( he tries to decide whether he should be offended or not in the space between one stern, unflinching blink and the next, letting the washed up, burnt out look of embry settle over him like a balm, like medicine. obviously ash knows embry fucks people — has fucked people while they've known each other of course, of course. it'd be completely unfair for him to stay celibate or somehow loyal towards a man who he left, who moved on, allegedly. the tabloids know what america's hottest bachelor look like. the right hand of the strongest pillar in american politics is not particularly subtle about his promiscuity either — ash has shook hands with his model dates, has introduced them to his now dead wife at state functions. so. it's not the act of fucking that has him so upset. it's been years since ash has seen him so manic, which means it's the i tried to be you half of that statement that really has a bee in his bonnet.
still, there's an almost magical clarity that comes with embry being on his knees. ash can see things clearer from up here, something soothed to peace in his chest. i tried to be you. he tried to dom someone, then. he hurt them, or himself, in the process. maybe both. either way, it's not something to be glazed over, and ash wouldn't do that to him anyway — he's the rocky shore in embry's tumultuous sea, steadfast and unchanging. his leg moves to press the heel of his foot against embry's balls, giving him more of a nudge than a kick there, feeling him out. not wholly disinterested, then — maybe shame for whatever he did? maybe regret? )
Take your shirt off.
( his head tilts, imperious. despite that they're both obviously aroused by it, the demand is a little — well, it's a strange line to cross. verbal acknowledgement. ash isn't scared of his feelings for embry, isn't bothered by wanting him. he purposely squeezes his cock through his sweats, rough and hard, thumbing his cockhead against the soft cotton. )
And talk now, while you can still use your voice, little prince. I'll say it again — tell me what happened. I won't say it a third time.
[ the breath he sucks in when ash fondles his balls with his feet fills his lungs with a pathetically small amount of air, most of it strangled somewhere in his throat, too stubborn to make it far. his head droops like he wants to be nowhere else but face down on the carpet, his thoughts a blazing minefield of confessions. anger blitzes to the forefront of his mind. he doesn't want to undress, doesn't want to shed one more layer when he's already flayed open, vulnerable in the worst way — as if ash hasn't already seen the darkest parts of his mind, the jagged corners that compel him to run toward sure destruction time and time again.
but he hasn't seen this. he hasn't seen the filthy monster that liked every bit of what he'd done to danny tonight, his terror and his tears and the way he struggled against him until he begged for his cock with hatred and lust drenching his sobs.
he strips, undoing his buttons and pushing his shirt down his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. sweat glistens in the hollow of his throat, his skin flushed from all his aggressive, poorly thought out fucking. his gaze flits to ash's hand, his mouth going dry at the sight of him squeezing himself. ]
I fucked someone. His name's Danny. [ he sounds eerily calm for how badly he wants to claw at the walls like someone's hysterical victorian wife. ] It wasn't — I didn't plan to. I was gonna — I don't know, talk to him. Rough him up a little, maybe. He had... some compromising pictures of me. So I was gonna politely threaten to cut off his goddamn balls if he didn't give them up.
[ had that really been his plan? he stalked danny for days, drugged him, broke into his room in the middle of the night and tied him to the goddamn bed. it was only supposed to be a talk, right? everything feels so fuzzy in his head now, like when he hits the bottle hard, only he's dead sober right now and wishing he wasn't so that he might have something to blame. ]
I bound his cock like you used to do to me.
[ used to, because it's been so long since they'd had that kind of time together. years apart with jenny, and then in the aftermath, ash was careful never to go back to the romance they had before his proposals, taking embry quick and dirty in locked rooms in the white house. he was starved for it, happy for even a sliver of ash's attention, but he wonders what it would be like to wake up to his sleepy morning face, to have pancakes in bed and watch tv and have hours and days of domestic bliss together. fuck, he's worse off than he thought. ]
He cried. [ embry's face twists, misery clouding his wintery gaze. there's so much he's hiding from ash, but he can't hide this. ] I... I liked it.
( luckily, embry talks. in the lull of space between i bound his cock and he cried, ash leans forward from his lax repose and palms a big hand through embry's thick hair, rewarding him with affection for his brutal honesty. sure, hearing about embry's sexual exploits will never not kill something soft and warm inside him, but ash is a man who will always prefer the brutal truth to a convenient lie, and he's grateful. cupping the back of his head, he drags embry forward, pressing his cheek on the length of ash's inner thigh, so close to his bulging erection he might as well have it tucked in his cheek, rested on like a pillow.
it's awhile before he speaks, sorting through his thoughts. his hand idly sifts through embry's hair, not wanting to say anything too brashly, but still wanting to comfort him in the tense, charged silence that follows his confession, on bent knee before his king. seeking absolution or punishment, or maybe a little of both. after a time, ash takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with it, pressing his thumb to embry's mouth for him to suck on. )
Remember Carpathia? ( a question that requires no answer — of course he does. ash's eyes hood with the memory. ) I nearly lost you. You were held together with Carpathian morphine and my patchwork stitches, all of it done in the field, because I couldn't move you without killing you. The last thing you needed was to be bent over a rucksack and fucked with a fistful of Vaseline, but that's exactly what I did. I had to. I was so mad at you, I needed you so badly, I had to. And I'm not sorry that I did it.
( maybe it's different to embry, but it isn't to ash — they both did things that shouldn't have, and there were consequences for each. for ash, he tore embry's stitches open so often that night, they nearly found the bottom of their meager supplies, and it was still barely enough to take the edge off. three months of losing embry to his physical therapy. it also just — got him embry, for a time, which was worth any setback, any karmic retribution he had to pay. embry's consequence for danny will probably unveil itself soon, but it will be manageable, because that's the only option ash is willing to give him. he'll make it through to the other side, if he has to drag him by the neck, screaming.
he can tell embry isn't sorry, either. but he is guilty about it, shamed, which means he probably wants to suffer for his actions. which is fine by ash, because he loves making embry suffer. )
I like it when you cry, too. You're no worse than me.
( ash isn't one to claim moral superiority when he doesn't believe in his own goodness, but he knows embry does, knows that's why he's the president and why embry is his vice president, because even if he doesn't want to be with ash, he does believe in him. shifting, he pulls his thumb from embry's mouth, giving him a smack on the cheek, before pulling down the waistband of his sweats and letting his cock spring free, gripped in the palm of his wet hand. he sets his leaking cockhead to embry's lips, stomach muscles bunching at the visual — the brief walk down memory lane, of every time he's had his cock near embry's lips and teeth before, every coy look, every snarling frustration. )
[ the weight of ash's hand is a comfort and a threat at once, embry's heart pounding and his thoughts swimming, his half-lidded gaze unfocused. the pink of his lips part without thought, his tongue welcoming ash's thumb as a part of his brain unspools to that night in the woods, two bullets and ash's cock in him. logically, he knew how close to death he'd been, can remember the razor's edge of terror, the way he couldn't stop shaking, how fucking cold he felt. he remembers morphine clouds. he remembers blood, and ash's anger, and pain so good it makes his dick throb even now.
but it was different. even back then, when he hated ash, he loved him, too. he's too far into this, too loyal, too devoted to even imagine a time when he didn't love ash colchester. he'll love him even if he never marries him, even if ash never kisses him or even looks at him again. he'll love him until he's dead.
with danny, there has to only be hatred. maybe danny feels about him the way he feels when he thinks of abilene, and that's — christ, he wants to vomit. a wounded sound grates in his throat, his eyes sticky, and he's suddenly bereft of ash's thumb, his mouth achingly empty. the slap that comes doesn't hurt him, but does disorient him further, his thoughts relentlessly tangled. ]
I needed him, too, but it wasn't like — not like you and me. [ there's nothing like you and me. ] I just — [ his hand curls tight around ash's calf. ] I wanted to protect you. But then when I saw him in that bed... I only thought about all the things I wanted that you never let me have.
[ a horrible, ugly thing to say, when ash has given him so much, and yet embry's selfishness knows no bounds, a gaping hole as wide as his sacrificial streak. the sight of ash's cock dries up the words on his tongue, his breath heavy and his mouth open as if ash has physically pried it open himself, and then he's pushing forward, taking him in with a moan, coming from freshly fucking another man and just as hot for ash's cock as ever. ]
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no subject
still, there's an almost magical clarity that comes with embry being on his knees. ash can see things clearer from up here, something soothed to peace in his chest. i tried to be you. he tried to dom someone, then. he hurt them, or himself, in the process. maybe both. either way, it's not something to be glazed over, and ash wouldn't do that to him anyway — he's the rocky shore in embry's tumultuous sea, steadfast and unchanging. his leg moves to press the heel of his foot against embry's balls, giving him more of a nudge than a kick there, feeling him out. not wholly disinterested, then — maybe shame for whatever he did? maybe regret? )
Take your shirt off.
( his head tilts, imperious. despite that they're both obviously aroused by it, the demand is a little — well, it's a strange line to cross. verbal acknowledgement. ash isn't scared of his feelings for embry, isn't bothered by wanting him. he purposely squeezes his cock through his sweats, rough and hard, thumbing his cockhead against the soft cotton. )
And talk now, while you can still use your voice, little prince. I'll say it again — tell me what happened. I won't say it a third time.
no subject
but he hasn't seen this. he hasn't seen the filthy monster that liked every bit of what he'd done to danny tonight, his terror and his tears and the way he struggled against him until he begged for his cock with hatred and lust drenching his sobs.
he strips, undoing his buttons and pushing his shirt down his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. sweat glistens in the hollow of his throat, his skin flushed from all his aggressive, poorly thought out fucking. his gaze flits to ash's hand, his mouth going dry at the sight of him squeezing himself. ]
I fucked someone. His name's Danny. [ he sounds eerily calm for how badly he wants to claw at the walls like someone's hysterical victorian wife. ] It wasn't — I didn't plan to. I was gonna — I don't know, talk to him. Rough him up a little, maybe. He had... some compromising pictures of me. So I was gonna politely threaten to cut off his goddamn balls if he didn't give them up.
[ had that really been his plan? he stalked danny for days, drugged him, broke into his room in the middle of the night and tied him to the goddamn bed. it was only supposed to be a talk, right? everything feels so fuzzy in his head now, like when he hits the bottle hard, only he's dead sober right now and wishing he wasn't so that he might have something to blame. ]
I bound his cock like you used to do to me.
[ used to, because it's been so long since they'd had that kind of time together. years apart with jenny, and then in the aftermath, ash was careful never to go back to the romance they had before his proposals, taking embry quick and dirty in locked rooms in the white house. he was starved for it, happy for even a sliver of ash's attention, but he wonders what it would be like to wake up to his sleepy morning face, to have pancakes in bed and watch tv and have hours and days of domestic bliss together. fuck, he's worse off than he thought. ]
He cried. [ embry's face twists, misery clouding his wintery gaze. there's so much he's hiding from ash, but he can't hide this. ] I... I liked it.
no subject
it's awhile before he speaks, sorting through his thoughts. his hand idly sifts through embry's hair, not wanting to say anything too brashly, but still wanting to comfort him in the tense, charged silence that follows his confession, on bent knee before his king. seeking absolution or punishment, or maybe a little of both. after a time, ash takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with it, pressing his thumb to embry's mouth for him to suck on. )
Remember Carpathia? ( a question that requires no answer — of course he does. ash's eyes hood with the memory. ) I nearly lost you. You were held together with Carpathian morphine and my patchwork stitches, all of it done in the field, because I couldn't move you without killing you. The last thing you needed was to be bent over a rucksack and fucked with a fistful of Vaseline, but that's exactly what I did. I had to. I was so mad at you, I needed you so badly, I had to. And I'm not sorry that I did it.
( maybe it's different to embry, but it isn't to ash — they both did things that shouldn't have, and there were consequences for each. for ash, he tore embry's stitches open so often that night, they nearly found the bottom of their meager supplies, and it was still barely enough to take the edge off. three months of losing embry to his physical therapy. it also just — got him embry, for a time, which was worth any setback, any karmic retribution he had to pay. embry's consequence for danny will probably unveil itself soon, but it will be manageable, because that's the only option ash is willing to give him. he'll make it through to the other side, if he has to drag him by the neck, screaming.
he can tell embry isn't sorry, either. but he is guilty about it, shamed, which means he probably wants to suffer for his actions. which is fine by ash, because he loves making embry suffer. )
I like it when you cry, too. You're no worse than me.
( ash isn't one to claim moral superiority when he doesn't believe in his own goodness, but he knows embry does, knows that's why he's the president and why embry is his vice president, because even if he doesn't want to be with ash, he does believe in him. shifting, he pulls his thumb from embry's mouth, giving him a smack on the cheek, before pulling down the waistband of his sweats and letting his cock spring free, gripped in the palm of his wet hand. he sets his leaking cockhead to embry's lips, stomach muscles bunching at the visual — the brief walk down memory lane, of every time he's had his cock near embry's lips and teeth before, every coy look, every snarling frustration. )
Open up.
no subject
but it was different. even back then, when he hated ash, he loved him, too. he's too far into this, too loyal, too devoted to even imagine a time when he didn't love ash colchester. he'll love him even if he never marries him, even if ash never kisses him or even looks at him again. he'll love him until he's dead.
with danny, there has to only be hatred. maybe danny feels about him the way he feels when he thinks of abilene, and that's — christ, he wants to vomit. a wounded sound grates in his throat, his eyes sticky, and he's suddenly bereft of ash's thumb, his mouth achingly empty. the slap that comes doesn't hurt him, but does disorient him further, his thoughts relentlessly tangled. ]
I needed him, too, but it wasn't like — not like you and me. [ there's nothing like you and me. ] I just — [ his hand curls tight around ash's calf. ] I wanted to protect you. But then when I saw him in that bed... I only thought about all the things I wanted that you never let me have.
[ a horrible, ugly thing to say, when ash has given him so much, and yet embry's selfishness knows no bounds, a gaping hole as wide as his sacrificial streak. the sight of ash's cock dries up the words on his tongue, his breath heavy and his mouth open as if ash has physically pried it open himself, and then he's pushing forward, taking him in with a moan, coming from freshly fucking another man and just as hot for ash's cock as ever. ]