when it's all said and done

[nedofpies]

Who: Ned and Daneel
What: The sun is down, the power is out.
Where: House 20
When: Day 100, twilight

The old adage about not knowing what you have until it's gone seems particularly relevant to Ned tonight. He'd thought things were bad enough with just the food shortage, just the lack of communication with the outside world, just the ignorance of where they are and who brought them here, just the occasional bout of horrific nightmares or monstrous transformations. Now, it would seem, they are going to have to learn to live without electricity, as well.

Perhaps, he thinks, walking back towards the house, it won't be permanent. Perhaps the power will be back in a few days and things will return to normal.

(But he'd heard stories from the older residents, about how the food used to be replenished. That had changed, and there were no signs of things going back to the way they used to be. So to hope for anything other than the worst possible scenario seems like foolish optimism, to him.)

Ned gets back a few minutes after the sun has set, as light is rapidly fading from the air. He lets himself inside and reaches for the light switch automatically, hand pausing halfway there to drop back down again. Under one of his arms is a bundle of wood, destined for the fireplace, if only he can manage to get it lit on his own. Ned can navigate easily enough - he has a good sense of the space and where things are that would get in his way - but once he's at the fireplace, he is at a bit of a loss. He has vague and distant memories of family camping trips when he was young, but it's been years and he doesn't remember much. How should he arrange the wood? How does he check that the chimney is open and he won't end up getting soot on everything?

There's a packet of matches in the hall, he remembers; perhaps it is best to start there.

Comments

[nedofpies]

Daneel's caution and tenderness are helpful; Ned slows down, lets out a shaky breath and doesn't let his eagerness get the best of him. This is, after all, rather a big deal, for him. It's not the sort of thing he had ever thought he would do, would be capable of doing. He wants to enjoy it as fully as possible, to make it last. So he relishes it, the slow shift of Daneel's body against and within his, the warmth and texture of skin, the feel of his mouth, the sound of his voice.

"God, you're really good at this," Ned doesn't exactly have anything to compare it to, but he couldn't care less. He clings to Daneel tightly, hooking a leg around Daneel's back, drawing him in even closer. He knows, logically, that what he feels shifting underneath Daneel's skin isn't exactly muscles, but whatever it is, he likes the feel of it. There's a heat building in the pit of his stomach, gradual but insistent.

Along with the steady build of arousal, his shyness and habitual sense of restraint falls completely by the wayside. He doesn't care that there's more than a hint of desperation in his voice when he begs Daneel to go faster, when he presses his forehead and tightly-closed eyes against the curve of Daneel's neck and starts babbling all sorts of things about how much he loves him. Ned tilts his hips in a way that makes every thrust of Daneel's send a jolt through him, until the crescendo starts to become too much. Acting without thinking too much first, Ned takes one of Daneel's hands and sets it against his cock with a wordless sound of entreaty.

[thezerothlaw]

Faster, deeper, long slow strokes -- whatever Ned wants, Daneel is only too glad to try it. If he's good at it, perhaps that's only an artifact of a mentality entirely focused on his partner. What, after all, is his own pleasure in this but a reflection of Ned's? He listens, he tries, he adjusts.

Daneel wraps his hand around Ned's cock, and begins stroking in time with his thrusts. His touch is gentle, as always, but he judges what force he uses carefully: enough for pleasurable friction, not enough to hurt.

To ask Ned to orgasm, to ask him to rush over that crest with Daneel's guidance -- well, it's not something he can do. It's selfish, in a way, wanting this to happen, to drink in Ned's pleasure and remember it, always, to know he did this and can do this and that he is loved, even if he doesn't know what he can return of it.

"Please," he murmurs, not entirely sure himself what he's asking.

[nedofpies]

Daneel might not understand, logically, what it is he's asking for, but Ned's brain isn't operating on the level of logic at that moment. He's hardly thinking at all, merely responding to Daneel's increasingly precise movements. There's something so fundamentally different about being sexual with another person, about the way he can't quite anticipate what Daneel will do, about knowing that Daneel - in his own unique way - is enjoying himself, is present with him in this moment,

So when Daneel asks, Ned knows what it is he wants, because it's the only thing he is really capable of giving at the moment. He was poised on the edge of it, trying to hold it off as long as he could, to savor the moment. But then Daneel says that one word, and how could Ned possibly refuse him? It isn't just a matter of choice, though: the thought of Daneel asking him, wanting this from him, is the final grain that tips the scale. He lets go, whole body shaking with the force of it.

There's an echo in his ears of what he realizes was probably quite a loud shout, as bit by bit his mind comes back into focus. Every inch of him feels hot and sensitive and perfect, and he can't seem to remember how to move. For now, just breathing, feeling his heart pounding away in his chest, is as much as he can manage.

[thezerothlaw]

The entire experience has been surprisingly intense, even for Daneel, especially for Daneel, but it's he himself now who still has some semblance of rationality. He pulls out, and sets to rearranging Ned carefully, to make sure he's comfortable and will remain so.

Daneel curls himself around Ned, his arms protectively around him, after first drawing their mouths together to kiss him, lingering and delicate. What he feels for Ned is... complex, whatever name he can put to it. It isn't like what he's felt for anyone. It's hard to even have a context to compare.

He lets out a soft "shhh," calming, reassuring. He is here, and he has done something which he thinks is very good.

[nedofpies]

Ned lets himself be rearranged, heavy-limbed but beginning to catch his breath, finally. He's glad that Daneel stays close to him, kisses him back, muzzy and dazed and ardent. When he feels capable of speaking again he swallows, says softly, "Thank you."

The way he says it makes it clear, he hopes, that he doesn't just mean for the sex. He means for everything. For sitting with him by the fire. For doing research trying to figure out how to make him happier. For all the things - little and enormous - that Daneel has done for him. He is thanking Daneel for existing, for changing his mind about so many things, for expanding his horizons.

"Love you," he murmurs, and it's different, saying it now as opposed to in the heat of the moment, as it were. But he means it every bit as much.

[thezerothlaw]

There are many layers of meaning there, in that small expression of gratitude, and Daneel thinks he understands -- or at least, he hopes he does.

"Thank you," he repeats, threading their fingers together. He's thankful for many things: the experience, the trust, Ned's confession of love -- he wants very much to be able to say the same, to return it, but he's not sure it's accurate. He can't say it if it isn't true, not if he might harm Ned by being wrong, and affection is a far easier thing to claim than anything as profound as love. Is there even a difference? To him, it doesn't seem like there should be, but... someone human might feel differently. That's the problem.

So he tucks himself against Ned, warm and solid, and he hopes that's enough.