holyposition | IC Inbox

We had people who did that in my time. It's strangely comforting to know that the... tradition? Continues. People really don't change, do they? Just the trappings.

[He drags clever fingers over Tim's collarbones.]

What is the name of this song? I'm sorry I don't know any of them. Yet. I shall, I think, eventually.

I'm so very curious about it all. I think there must be music from so many places, too. Other countries.

[ Tim hums, looking thoughtful. It’s only here that he’s been able to put his sexuality and others like it into any kind of historical context, thinking of it before as just his sin, his burden to overcome. But Harry hails from a hundred years before him, and a hundred years before that there were other men sneaking around in the dark, looking at each other with the loving expressions that they both wear now, weighing the dangers against the pleasures and choosing the latter. It is a comfort. God makes some people this way, and always has. It’s no sin to admit to it. ]

I guess not. That is kind of comforting.
[ Also comforting, snuggling in closer to bury his head into the crook of his neck. He can smell a little more sweat on his skin now than when he arrived, but that pleases him. ]

This one’s called Land of Love. You can borrow this, if you want to get familiar. I brought the charger and the ear buds, they’re in the bag. It’s got more modern stuff on it, too.

[ Fingers trailing lower, feather-light over the curve of his ass. Simply learning the shape of him. ]

I’ll try my best to answer anything you want to know.

[Cuddling is so new. He tenses for a second but relaxes the next, cautiously draping an arm over Tim's waist.

He can smell Tim's hair and it is soothing. He kisses the top of his head softly, enjoying having him so close. Slowly, he lets his ankle hook over Tim's calf.]

'Land of Love.' I like that. Very much.

You wouldn't mind? And the library, perhaps it has more devices like this or the ah, radio?

[He goes quiet, keeping Tim close but not quite daring to run his hands over his body like he wants to. When he does speak again his voice is even softer than usual.]

I don't understand why you allow me this... this closeness. And please, no flattery, I don't require it. I just... I just don't understand. But I'm ever so grateful.

[The arm around Tim's waist tightens a little.]

It's difficult to remember how much good there is in the human heart. I believed it so easily, once. But I've been poisoned, Tim.

[He laughs, suddenly aware of what he's just said.]

Ah. Yes. But I think you understand my meaning. You remind me of the good, is what I mean to say.

You're free to it whenever you want.

[ No flattery, when every other word from his mouth is to sing Tim's praises. He can't help but chuckle at it. ]

Is it flattery just to tell you that I like it? I like you, and I like this.

[ ’I’ve been poisoned.’ It hurts his heart to hear him speak like that, this kind, gentle man, who hasn’t had an unkind word for anyone in the entire time he’s known him. Tim’s instinct is to argue, to convince him that he knows better, but deep down, he knows it’s not so different from what he confessed to Koby during the wolf games. Under dire circumstances, he’d become the worst version of himself, darkened his soul with things that can’t be washed away. It had only been a month. What if he’d endured the horrors for as long as Harry had? His spirit would have been chipped away until there was nothing left. ]

Poisoning is a good word for it. Because it’s not really you, it didn’t come from you. Your environment changed you. Made you do terrible things. But you can recover.

[ Tim pulls apart from him, just a bit, enough to pull the blankets over them. Keep his crisis of faith, his selfishness, his imperfections warm inside of him where they belong. If the illusion of his perfection gives Harry comfort, he’ll maintain it. ]

If I can help you do that, I’ll have done more good here than bad.

You are too kind. And no, I suppose it isn't. Thank you.

[The blankets help. He no longer feels as exposed, and his body gives up more tension. He pulls Tim back to him and he props himself up enough to kiss him lightly.

He wouldn't bat an eye at Tim's supposed imperfections, that's the truth of the matter.]

I wonder.

[He leans down and kisses Tim once more, one hand cradling his face. He means for it to be soft, sweet, but in a very short amount of time he's licking his way into Tim's mouth. He feels feverish with not lust but desire, something bigger than just wanting Tim's body.

It's no wonder Hawk warned him not to fall in love with Tim. It would be so very, very easy to do.]

Edited 2025-04-17 23:22 (UTC)

[ Harry doesn't want flattery, so Tim doesn't give it. He keeps his thoughts to himself, about how he's starting to look more alive and more healthy than he did a month ago. It's not something he can take credit for, but there's something to be said about the healing power of such deep affection. Not Tim's, but his own, the motivation to be strong for someone, worthy of them. It's something he understands well, the way he throws himself into his experimental affairs with his whole being or not at all.

It would be so very easy to give his all to Harry. He'd accept it wholeheartedly. And then what cruel ending would this place concoct for them?

And yet. He accepts the kiss with open arms, softly keening into it, settling onto his back as Harry leans over him, holds him, makes him feel so intensely loved. Arms snake around his back to urge him on top of him, as if he's learned nothing at all. ]

[It's warm under the covers, and the afternoon light is mellow. It feels safe. Which is maybe why instead of rolling back to his side Harry shifts the opposite way. One leg slips between Tim's, the other at the outside, as he rolls on top.

Harry's hands cup Tim's face as he kisses him, passionate without the immediate desperation from earlier. He pulls away only to kiss down the length of Tim's neck, his hands slipping to run over the impressive expanse of Tim's chest.

It's warm. It's safe. And he's never had the chance to explore someone like this, to marvel at the feeling of bare skin on skin and the taste of someone's sweat.

He squirms lower, mouth finding one of Tim's nipples. His tongue drags over it before he sucks at it, then again when his mouth relaxes. Harry places one ear to Tim's chest, hearing his heartbeat.]

Is this alright?

[More curious than nervous, although the nerves remain.]

[ For Tim’s part, it’s not the partial cover that’s making him feel safe here, because it’s not the nudity that’s making him feel vulnerable. Harry's expressed enough appreciation for his body that he can’t delude himself into disbelieving him, but the choice to put himself in such a state at all is an emotional one, moreso than a physical urge or even a lustful one. Already he’s confessed that he doesn’t like to do this, and never fully enjoys himself, without some strong emotional underpinning, and here he is now splayed out beneath him for round two, an opportunity to be slower and softer and even more emotional, with the initial neediness gotten out of the way.

It feels like a door’s being wedged open and made impossible to close again. And this time, the choice is fully his.

He sighs softly, affectionately, into the kiss, and spreads his legs a little to accommodate him. Tim wraps his arms around him, runs his fingers down his spine, feeling each knobby bump too easily still, every one a reminder of how miraculous it is that Harry is here with him at all. ]

Ah-!

[ A sharp gasp and jerk of his hips, cock twitching against Harry with renewed interest, is probably all the answer he needs. But still, Tim tries, heart racing beneath the other man's cheek. ]

Yeah, it's good.

[Harry wants to tell Tim that he'll always be safe with him. He wants to with all his heart, but he can't. The last time he thought that to be true it wasn't, and he'd done nothing but stand helplessly to one side while the person he'd thought to protect was pushed away to face danger alone.

He wants Tim to feel safe and loved. He can provide that now, he thinks. He just can't promise 'always' even if he's made up his mind to try anyway.

Tim is remarkably reactive, and at first Harry's sure he's hurt him somehow. But no, no. It's good. He looks up quickly to gauge Tim's expression just in case his body wants one thing while his brain wants another, sees no conflict, and returns to his careful exploration of Tim's well muscled chest.]

I've never done this.

[Offered up as a shy apology, 'this' encompassing so much. Hands creep over Tim's torso followed by lips.

Pectoralis major. Serratis anterior. Rectus abdominis. External oblique. He mentally names every muscle beneath his mouth, even though he doesn't want to.

Harry lifts his head and thinks about moving lower. Tries to picture taking Tim into his mouth. The thought makes him feel overwhelmed and so he squirms back up to kiss Tim's mouth again instead.

Softly, he bumps his forehead to Tim's.]

Still alright?

[He hates to ask, certain it will get annoying, but he can't not.]

[ Tim’s body and his brain are perfectly aligned, wanting and comfortable. The heat never truly left his skin, going from fooling around in the leather armchair to snuggling up and sharing that warmth here in bed, but it’s visible again, lighting up his body, freckled pink on firm muscle with a dark trail of hair. Every kiss is an affirmation to soothe his fears, every lap of tongue something to squirm about with anticipation. Sometimes, he’s been self-conscious about how reactive he can be, how his voice goes high and his eyes well up, far from any stoic masculine ideal.

But Harry looks at him like he put the sun in the sky all on his own, like some perfect, sacred thing. The shame doesn’t come. ]

Still good. Don’t worry. We’ve got all day.

[ With a pleased smile on his face, he cups Harry’s cheek, rolling his body underneath him in a slow grind, half-hard already with all the attention. ]

I’m sure whatever filthy things you’re thinking about doing to me will be wonderful.

All day. [The awe in his voice is apparent, sweetly hilarious. It's another of those ideas that he's having a hard time comprehending.

Harry's face reddens and he drops his gaze for a moment.]

I. I don't know what I'm thinking.

[He likes the feeling of Tim beneath him, though. Likes feeling his arousal, likes the scent of his skin. He hides his face against Tim's neck.]

I've never... never had a man in a bed before. It feels very strange, Tim. Lovely, but strange.

[He sighs and lets his hand drift down Tim's belly, following the line of his pelvis, skirting his cock to pet his thigh. He swallows thickly.]

I keep thinking we're about to be caught. Or that I'll do something foolish.

I could give you some ideas, if you want.

[ The pull of his lips going mischievous, but there’s no urgency to it. Interest, certainly, but feeling Harry’s body on his, the weight and the warmth of him holding him down right here, in this room where he’s given Tim his trust, his secrets, and now his body – it's nice. His flesh has the reaction that any man would have, to have someone precious pressed so closely to him, but there’s no rush.

In that way, this place is so different from the way things used to be for him. For both of them. He remembers, stroking his face, his hair, his shoulders, in gentle, soothing motions. ]

I remember that paranoia, too. I think you’ll be surprised how quickly you grow out of it here. Especially when my visits get to be a habit.

Habit. [Repeated with that same awe. He feels a little faint, contemplating it.

His hand finds Tim's cock and strokes it with a steady enough hand, less urgently before. Harry hums softly, the sort of absent noise a person makes when puzzling something out.]

What, ah. What ideas would those be?

[He shifts a little bit so he can actually see Tim, emboldened by the implication that Tim will return even if Harry fucks it up.]

[ For as open as he’s been up to now, Tim doesn’t have the easiest time putting words to his desires. The men that he’s been with the longest just know, somehow, they’ve become attuned to each other in ways that transcend words, or in Hawk’s case, he saw right through Tim from the start and it just so happened that their preferences compliment each other completely. He’s always been more comfortable in submission, in worship, trusting an authority figure to take care of him, doing what they say and receiving his divine reward.

For once, the imbalance in experience tilts in his direction. He gets the impression that Harry’s a pleaser, just like he is, so he’ll need a little nudge. ]

I liked the way you felt in my mouth. [ Getting hard in his hand, rocking his hips in tune with the languid pace. ] I bet you'd feel better inside me. Would you want me like this?

[ Whining underneath him, ankles on his shoulders. He can picture it, and it makes him ache. ]

Or from behind?

[ A new view, the lewd smack of thighs on ass. ]

I could get back on your lap, too.

[Harry's brain shorts out for a full minute at those mental images. While he processes, he keeps stroking Tim's cock.]

I.

How do you usually...?

[Harry exhales slowly. He's not going to let his nerves best him.]

My apologies, Tim. I am not trying to be, ah, indecisive with my affections.

[He pauses to kiss Tim's mouth gently.] I want you very badly. But I don't want you the way I've had... well.

You are terribly special to me, is all I mean to say.

[His hand stills and he looks Tim in the eye.]

I want to see your face, when you spend. I would like that very much. So if I'm to... to do that, then yes, just like this.

Please, tell me what you want, Tim.

[ The pause makes him squirm, half impatiently begging for more than just a hand, half uncertainty, that he's said too much, that he'll be wanton and whorish to him, off-putting - but he kisses him so sweetly that he has to laugh. It's a light, airy, gentle thing. ]

You're special to me too, you know. Like this sounds perfect.

[ Kissing him again, and wrapping his legs around the back of his thighs, loosely, in case he needs to get up. ]

Do you have...um.

[ Lube, vaseline, something. Harry doesn't have a wealth of experience, but he knows the human body, he hopes he doesn't have to spell it out. ]

[He looks at Tim blankly for a second, then laughs, ducking his head.]

Ah. Yes. The, the manor has provided... well. Yes. [But he kisses Tim again before he reluctantly slips away from him. He has to sit up and reach for the heavy wooden nightstand. The manor has apparently seen fit to stock every bedroom with Astroglide, and although he'd never expected to use it, Harry had read the label and then returned it to where he'd found it.

Still sitting up, covers pooled around his waist, he rereads the label again because his nerves have returned. His eyes flick to Tim, laying there all smooth skin and warm affection.

Stop it, Harry, he thinks, and takes a slow breath.]

Are you comfortable?

[ Tim looks up at him with nothing less than adoration, the thin sheen of sweat and disorderly state of his hair no issue to him when all his focus is on this lovely man. This lovely, attentive, gentle man, the type of person Tim would love if he knew what was good for him. ]

I am.

[ He rubs his ankle against Harry's leg, little affectionate gestures to make him comfortable, too. ]

Don't be nervous. I want you, Harry.

[Harry scoffs softly.] Tim, I'm afraid 'nervous' has been my constant state of being for my entire life. Please don't think it any fault of yours.

[Still he applies lube to his fingers, eyebrows lifting as he rubs them together to feel the texture. Finding it satisfactory (and oh, even here technology has made minute changes to things) he shifts back. His gaze has changed very subtly as he studies Tim's body - it's still beautiful to him, but now it is in fact a human body to be rearranged and, in a way, examined.]

Draw your legs up, please.

[ He lets out an amused huff, and punctuates it with a cheeky bite to his lips before doing exactly what he's told. Tim spreads his legs and shoves his hands under his knees, drawing them up to his chest and exposing him. It makes him feel nervous now, every part of him vulnerable under Harry's gaze, his hands. ]

Is that good?

Very good.

[He pauses to lean over and brush his lips over Tim's.] Lovely as ever.

[Harry shuffles his body a bit so that he can get between Tim's legs, weirdly more at ease now that he can focus on cause and effect. Warm, slick fingers slip over Tim's hole while Harry's gaze stays more or less on Tim's face to gauge his reaction.

Gently (of course) and slowly he presses a single digit in only when he's quite sure Tim is relaxed somewhat.]

You're doing marvellously, Tim.

[ Tim leans up into it, making sure to leave him with a good smack of his lips before he has to turn his attention elsewhere. After a deep breath in, and a long breath out, it's easy enough to relax. He's hardly new to this, even if it's not always this soft, this slow.

The intrusion prompts a soft gasp, and Tim's face flushes. His eyes are hungry, looking Harry up and down, searching his expression. wanting to see the digits disappearing inside him. He clenches around his finger, purposely, an invitation to come in deeper. ]

[Tim is clearly in no distress - seems, if anything, a little impatient. Harry's not to be rushed though, and so takes his time before introducing the second finger. Then eyes downcast to watch his hand he feels unerringly for Tim's prostate.

Sometimes it pays to have an intimate working knowledge of the human body, even if it does leave him looking a little like he's reading something particularly engaging.

His other hand moves to stroke Tim's cock a few times as well.]

[ Patience is not his strong suit, but despite the squirming and shifting, he likes being made to wait. It's not just about anticipation, but not being in control, having to prioritize someone else's pace, their needs over his own. There's comfort in not having to be the one thinking.

There's a sharp gasp when Harry finds what he's looking for, a jerk of his leg before Tim relaxes again. ]

Yeah. That's-- that's good.

[ Shifting downwards in rhythm, trying to fuck himself on Harry's fingers. Tim's breathing gets lighter, quicker, his body stretching to accommodate as it's done so many times before, but never with Harry. That makes it more special, makes him more eager. ]

[Harry is an extremely warm and generous person, but there is something in him that allows for distance when dealing with bodies. This is nothing like surgery of course, and Tim's expression and the sounds he makes are doing wonders for Harry's interest, but just that sliver of coolness lets him continue without feeling nervous. He finger fucks Tim, paying special attention to whatever makes him spasm involuntarily, until he himself is achingly hard. He wasn't sure he would be, so soon after the last time.

With real regret Harry pulls his fingers out and then shifts again, settling properly between Tim's legs again.]

You're doing very well.

[Softly, softly. At this rate Tim might be forgiven for thinking Harry's never raised his voice in his life.

He takes hold of his cock and lines himself up carefully before slowly - slowly! - pressing forward and in.]

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