Work Text:
For the tenth night in a row Blake wandered into Avon’s room and sat down on his bed. Avon sighed and passed him a glass. “I had intended to go to bed, Blake”
Blake grinned at him; “Don’t let me stop you. We can chat just as easily while you get ready.”
“Perhaps I prefer a modicum of privacy: - something which is in increasingly short supply over the past week or so.”
“Perhaps. But I like to have a chance to spend time with you in the evenings. You wouldn’t be so cruel as to deprive me, Avon, surely?”
“I am perfectly willing to deprive you if I only knew how to effect the deprivation.” Avon’s voice was a touch too deliberately acid, he had become accustomed to Blake’s intrusions and was afraid he could become far too used to his undivided attention. Now he poured from the bottle already on the side – Blake’s preferred nightcap; he acknowledged with disgust, how had he so quickly altered his routines to allow for – maybe even encourage – these visits? He seated himself again and waited.
Yet tonight Blake seemed abstracted, twirling the glass slowly between his fingers. He seemed to be steeling himself and Avon wondered what was coming. He glanced up at Avon and a frown furrowed his forehead momentarily; “Sit here with me, would you? I think – I think I need you closer tonight if you wouldn’t mind, Avon.”
Avon frowned back at him, already rising and moving to the bed; this was no mood he had met before and he didn’t know what had set Blake off. He faced him, standing close, looking down with concern he would not express by word or face, but which he knew full well that Blake would understand.
Blake shot a tight glance up into his eyes and back down as if hoping Avon would somehow intuit what was wrong – and something was clearly wrong – without him having to spell it out. Avon waited. Not patiently – that wasn’t one of his virtues and he knew it – but he could wait a long time for Blake. He took another step, this putting him deep into Blake’s normal comfort zone for other people. It felt more like the right place to be to Avon and he could see Blake relax a fraction more.
Blake took a gulp of his drink – and that was atypical as well – and reached sideways to put the glass down on the side before he sat further back on the bed in clear invitation that Avon seat himself beside him. More of a plea than an invitation, Avon found himself responding involuntarily. So close that their legs were brushing, arms and shoulders in contact. And again Blake slumped a little more, released a tiny fraction of his tension.
“I’ve been dreaming” a quiet thread of voice. “I’ve been dreaming about us, Avon.”
“Natural enough, we spend our days together. Your mind is just unwinding, reliving significant events.” Avon was scrambling to defuse the bomb that was now sitting in his room, that had been present from the first night Blake had come to him at night, and how had he never heard the ticking?
A huff of strained laughter, Blake cupped his hand upwards – on Avon’s leg. “What I’m dreaming is significant alright, but, Avon, it’s nothing that has happened. Not yet.”
Avon’s own hand seemed to have moved; he stared at their intertwined fingers in shock. “Tell me” a harsh whisper demanding that Blake make it clear, that he should say it, absolve Avon of the responsibility. Impatient, he pulled his hand clear.
He put it on Blake’s face instead, pulling it round gently, kneading lightly with his fingertips pushing into Blake’s hair. He gave up everything at the soft groan that was Blake’s reaction to Avon handling him thus, and curved his other hand to hold Blake’s head still while he bent to him. “What are you dreaming, Blake? What is it you want?”
“You, Avon. Only you. But you are everything.” Now Blake moved, sure at last. He turned as he slipped both arms round Avon to pull him closer still, to grip him to himself as he tilted his head and kissed him on his lips, soft but very sure. Avon shivered, tiny thrills ballet pirouetting along his spine as Blake took his mouth.
I want this. I’ve wanted this from the very beginning.’ Avon’s mind informed him even as his body responded to Blake; Blake in his arms, in his mouth, on his bed.
Blake pulled back, gasping, then bent in again helplessly to pull Avon closer, tighter, to kiss his mouth, his throat, mouth at his ear and lick inside then bite gently at the lobe, “Gods, Avon, you are so…” and he turned to kiss his lips again, tongue invading relentlessly to taste as deeply as he could. Then he moaned in self-abnegation and firmly put some – small – distance between their faces at least. Although his arms remained clasped hard round his body. Avon’s arms were just as tight around him, but he had to ask, had to be sure or his entire world was going to collapse when Avon left him in fury at his ‘manipulation’.
“Avon? I didn’t ask. You do want this? Me? I mean, I know you say I manipulate you but this is going faster than I…”
“Blake, what I have repeatedly told you is that you do not pay attention.” Avon’s voice was laughter not sarcasm, for once. “Trust me, if I did not want you, I am perfectly capable of removing you.” Blake was still looking worried, though his hands were roaming over Avon’s back instinctively, seeking his mate. Seeking to be closer, seeking the skin beneath the annoying clothes that were preventing Blake’s hands finding all the secret places on Avon’s body. Avon smiled and hollowed his back as Blake’s fingers tugged urgently at his shirt, allowing the material to be pulled free and Blake’s hand to delve lower inside his trousers against his skin this time. Both men gasped. “I want you. I want you now and I shall still want you tomorrow. Just don’t expect me to back off from telling you when you are being an idiot. That is not who I am. Lover or not.”
Blake’s eyes were blazing at the near declaration, closer than he had ever dared to hope for. “I love you” he told Avon huskily. “I love you so much, I haven’t been able to think straight. Now, I want, with your permission, to take you to bed and keep you there far longer than is at all reasonable.”
“But Blake, as I keep pointing out, you have very little conception of what is reasonable.” The laughter was still in Avon’s voice as he whispered into Blake’s ear as the two began the ages old rituals of loving and mate claiming; “under certain circumstances, a reasonable time may be forever.” He was sure of himself now and intended Blake to understand. Blake would know just what was being offered. He did.
“I do.” He said firmly, solemnly. Then his face altered as he smiled “Actually, you should know that I have no choice anyway, my love. I’ve been in love with you since I met you. Forever is not nearly time enough. Now…” and he tumbled them both backwards to lie together at last on Avon’s bed and began to make love to him as Avon laughed in response and reached for him in return.
Tomorrow would come soon enough with Blake’s cause and his own desires, amongst them the not-particularly–well-hidden desire to keep the rebel safe. For tonight, let them just be who they were, two men making love together and affirming the new bonds between them. Or perhaps, thought Avon ironically, simply acknowledging the bonds already forged. They belonged together. Then he let go of reason and let the fire burn.