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janedavitt Mar. 23rd, 2005 04:50 pm)
janedavitt Mar. 23rd, 2005 04:50 pm)Here's some more of our Giles/Ethan fic. And writing this bit had me so nostalgic for pub lunches and feeling nicely sleepy afterwards.
Well, ready for bed, anyway... ::grin::
Previous parts here
The Power of Persuasion by Jane Davitt and Wesleygirl
Part Eight
After a meal that included three pints and a rather obscenely large ploughman's lunch each, not to mention a fair amount of pleasant, light-hearted conversation, Ethan was feeling better than he had in some time. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Rupert, to the point where he'd actually eaten less than he might have, but that didn't matter. The three pints of bitter had left Ethan feeling warm and comfortable, and it was with some regret that he pushed back his chair when Rupert did and got to his feet.
The cat reappeared as if from nowhere and jumped up onto the seat Ethan had just vacated, putting its paws up on the edge of the table and sniffing at the remains of the meal on his plate with interest. "Wondered where he'd got to," Ethan said. "Wouldn't think cheese and pickle would be good for him."
"We had a cat that used to eat peas," Rupert said. "And when they're hungry, I suppose they're not fussy." He reached out and gave the cat his hand to sniff before tickling it under its chin, reducing it to a writhing, purring, ecstatic state. "Not that this one seems to be starving," he added, stroking its exposed, rounded stomach as it peered up at him. "Over-fed if anything."
The cat decided to take the comment personally, curling up and attacking Rupert's hand, grabbing it with its front paws – and claws – while its back paws came up and scrabbled wildly. Rupert yelped indignantly and pulled his hand away. "Stop that," he said sternly. "Bad cat!"
The cat, apparently offended by Rupert's tone, ran off in a blur.
"Bit of a split personality," Ethan said, moving closer to look at Rupert's scratched hand, holding it in his own. "Well, I think you'll live. Shall I kiss it better?"
"It's deeper than it looks," Rupert said, his fingers moving to wrap around Ethan's hand. "I think you might need to do a little more than that to make me feel better." Ethan glanced up from his examination of what was little more than reddened skin. Rupert smiled. "But it's certainly worth a try, I suppose."
Ethan moved in and kissed Rupert, just a soft, lingering movement of lips over lips, still holding his hand. It felt almost unbearably intimate because it was so slow and gentle, and he knew that he must look more than a bit anxious when he opened his eyes and met Rupert's again.
"You were supposed to kiss my hand," Rupert said, although he didn't sound displeased about the change in plans.
"I was going for more of a systemic effect," Ethan said.
Rupert nodded, the look in his eyes warm, although his voice was light. "That's a reasonable approach. Perhaps we could go home and you could continue the treatment?" He flexed his hand. "It does seem to be working. You're obviously good for me."
"Am I?" Ethan asked before he could stop himself. He liked the idea that he might be a great deal more than he should have.
Rupert didn't answer at once, giving it a more serious consideration than Ethan had expected. "You – remind me. Of things I've been very successful at forgetting. That's a mixed blessing, but it's needed, I suppose. And you –" He glanced at the table, littered with their empty glasses. "Too much beer," he murmured, "but at the risk of being sentimental, you – wake me up. Arouse me in more senses than the obvious. Yes, you're good for me, Ethan." He hesitated and then added reluctantly. "In small doses, anyway. For the long term, it would have to go both ways; I can't... accept the way you live, the things you do in the name of Chaos." His grip on Ethan's hand tightened for a moment and then he pulled his hand free and sighed. "Sorry. More than you wanted to hear. Blame the beer."
As much as he didn't want to be, Ethan couldn't help but be hurt by what Rupert had said. "Right," he muttered. "I'd forgotten how maudlin you get when you've been drinking." It might have been one of the reasons they'd fought so bitterly just before Rupert had left him all those years ago; because a maudlin Rupert was so much less fun than the normal version, and Ethan hadn't been able to stir him out of his brooding no matter how hard he'd tried. "Let's go then, before we get the urge to drink more and you decide you don't like what you imagine I'm doing."
"I am not getting –" Rupert looked vaguely insulted. "On three pints?" He turned towards the exit. "And why do I get the feeling you ignored everything I said first? Did you miss the compliments entirely?"
"I got a bit distracted by the part where you can't accept the way that you think I live," Ethan said.
"That I think you live?" Rupert said as they emerged onto the road. "I'm sorry; did you make a New Year's resolution to stop doing spells that leave people altered for the worse?"
Ethan tucked his hands into his pockets to keep warm and deliberately walked beside Rupert instead of behind him, even though it meant he was essentially walking in the road. "I didn't need to make a resolution," he said. "The American government did that for me. Well, not exactly, but the end result is the same."
"Not forever," Rupert said. "When we've dealt with what was done to you there's no reason why you won't be able to do as much magic as you like." A car came up behind them, going too fast for such a narrow road, and Rupert's hand shot out, pulling Ethan to him until it had gone by. "Assuming you're not a road fatality statistic by then."
Tightening his own hand on the front of Rupert's jacket, Ethan grinned, pressing their bodies together a bit more than they already had been. "Why, Ripper," he said softly. "I didn't know you cared."
Making a frustrated sound that was close enough to a growl to be promising – Ethan infinitely preferred him angry to wistful – Rupert kissed him, a swift, hard press of his lips that didn't last for long enough to let Ethan respond. "Then you haven't been paying attention," he said.
Ethan opened his mouth to say something – he wasn't quite sure what – but was interrupted by the electronic shrill of a cell phone in Rupert's pocket. He hadn't even realised the man had one, and he quickly stepped back into the road, not wanting to take a chance on shorting the mobile out by touching Rupert while he took the call.
"Why are you –? Oh." Rupert gave him an apologetic look and took out the phone. "Yes?" He started to walk, moving towards the entrance to the cliff side track a short distance ahead. Ethan followed him, staying a careful distance away, but listening to what Rupert was saying with a caution he'd learned over the years. "Yes, it's going very well... I can't see why not.... No, I'm not, but don't worry. I can fax you the..."
Ethan could fill in the gaps enough to guess that Rupert was talking to his client with the odd taste in spells and he relaxed. Nothing to do with him then.
Rupert ended the call and tucked the phone away, turning around to see where Ethan was. "Mr. Carlton," he said ruefully. "Making sure I'll be finished by tomorrow and asking where the hell I was, but using rather more tact than that."
"He does seem very anxious to make use of your services," Ethan said, moving closer, watching Rupert's face to see if they might take up where they'd left off. "He's not the only one."
"Really?" Rupert asked, closing the gap between them. "Well, that's very flattering, but it leaves me with a difficult choice to make." The road was empty in both directions, the only sound the faint rush of the sea and the rustle of the wind in the hedge that ran alongside it. He hooked his hand in Ethan's jacket and walked back the few steps needed to bring them to the start of the track. Turning his head, Rupert nodded at it. "About fifteen minutes of walking along that, and we'll be back at somewhere with a bed and a table covered with papers I need to work on, unless you can convince me otherwise." He cocked his head to the side. "How good are you at being persuasive, Ethan?"
Ethan felt, if he were being perfectly honest with himself, a bit unsteady on his feet. He told himself rather firmly that it was the result of the three pints. "I'll try not to be offended that you've apparently forgotten," he said, attempting a normal tone of voice. "I do feel fairly confident in my ability to remind you." He wanted, truth be told, to get down on his knees right there, but Rupert wasn't nearly drunk enough for that.
"You know," Rupert said softly, releasing his hold on Ethan's jacket and sliding his hand up to curve behind Ethan's neck, in a possessive, warm grip, "so do I." His mouth brushed across Ethan's, teasingly light, and then returned for a deeper kiss, with Rupert's tongue flicking across lips Ethan was opening anyway.
With a soft moan, Ethan threw himself into the kiss, letting Rupert lead but following each move, each flicker of tongue, and giving as good as he got. He slid one hand underneath Rupert's jacket and around to the small of his back, pulling the other man closer as they continued to kiss until they were both breathless.
"Too persuasive," Rupert said, his voice husky as they broke apart. "And that bed's too bloody far, but I don't think –" He turned his head just as Ethan heard the sound of a dog, barking with excitement, the noise blended with the high chatter of children's voices coming from further down the track.
Rupert sighed, stepping back. "Hold that thought?" he suggested.
Ethan wanted Rupert even more than he had the night before, but he took a deep breath and turned toward the small crowd of children as they came in their direction. "I certainly won't be thinking of anything else," he said, smiling brightly at the dog, its tail wagging so vigorously that its entire hind end went back and forth.
One of the children looked at them curiously as they passed each other, but the rest were too busy talking amongst themselves to pay two adult men any mind. Ethan did turn his head to watch them cross the road safely, darting out when a car slowed and the driver waved them over.
"Quite a busy road," he commented. "Lots of traffic. All leaving the village, I hope you notice. Oh, speaking of which, you ought to check the battery in the rental when we get back." Not that he'd mind being stuck somewhere with Rupert, but given the option, he'd rather be stuck someplace with a few more amenities.
Rupert gave him an incredulous glance. "If you really think I'm going to start doing car maintenance when we get back –"
"If you think I'd let you, you're quite mad," Ethan said, grinning. "No, of course I didn't mean immediately." Still, he'd hate to have need of the car only to discover that it wouldn't start, so they'd have to check it later on in the afternoon.
If, of course, either of them was capable of getting out of bed at that point, and Ethan sincerely hoped that they wouldn't be.
"I promise I'll look at it," Giles said, starting to walk down the track and moving with a purposeful speed that Ethan approved of, even though the beer and the food had left him feeling more like strolling. Anything that could knock a few minutes off the time it would take to reach the cottage had his vote. "Later."
They made the rest of the journey back to the cottage without further interruptions from children, cars, or dogs. Ethan stood to one side and watched as Rupert unlocked the front door and then followed him inside, immediately turning Rupert and pressing him to the closed door, one hand on either side of Rupert's hips. "Is this the place where I persuade you?" he asked seductively.
"You already did," Rupert told him, leaning back against the door. "If you'd like me to seem unwilling, I'll try, but somehow –" His hand moved to circle Ethan's right wrist, and then slid down so that his fingers were interlaced with Ethan's. With a catch in his voice that had Ethan closing his eyes for a moment, remembering Rupert saying his name with just that intonation in the past, he brought their linked hands down so that Ethan's palm was cupping Rupert's cock, full and hard, and said, "I don't think I'll be very convincing."
Ethan pressed his palm more firmly against Rupert's erection, squeezing and feeling it harden further under his touch. "Yes, you do seem rather convinced," he murmured, rubbing himself against Rupert slowly as he brought his other hand down and began to unfasten Rupert's trousers. He was too eager to tease – not that he was ever much good at that – and in seconds he had Rupert's bare cock in his hands, stroking it and cupping Rupert's balls, feeling Rupert shudder in arousal.
"Ethan..." Rupert's head tilted, the slight shift in his position enough to make his cock slide through the circle of Ethan's fingers. Ethan leant in to give Rupert the kiss he clearly wanted, tightening his fingers as Rupert's hips jerked forward again. Rupert groaned and bit down hard on Ethan's lip, running his tongue over the spot a moment later in what, from Ethan's perspective, was an unneeded apology. Making Rupert lose control wasn't always a wise move, but he'd never been able to resist trying, and in circumstances like this it couldn't lead to anything but pleasure for both of them.
Pulling Ethan in close, Rupert kissed him roughly, tongue exploring the inside of Ethan's mouth. Ethan managed to get hold of Rupert's cock again, almost groaning as his fingers closed around the hard, hot shaft, and he couldn't help himself – he had to slide down to his knees and do what he'd wanted to do on the path outside, take Rupert's cock into his mouth and taste it.
Ripper's hands were in Ethan's hair, and they weren't gentle, either, which was just fine by Ethan. If this was only going to last a few days, he didn't want gentle or God forbid, loving. He just wanted Rupert's hands on him, Rupert's cock in him, wanted fierce careless shagging with no strings attached.
His world narrowed to a series of sensory impressions – the sharp, tiny pain as a strand of his hair was caught between Rupert's fingers, the ache of his knees pressing against the wooden floor, the tickle of wiry, curled hair against his face as he took Rupert in as deeply as he could.
It wasn't that he'd ever forgotten what Rupert felt like in his mouth, how he tasted, how he smelled; that indefinable scent that lay unchanging beneath the mixture of soaps used to wash body or clothes. No. He didn't think he could, and he'd never bothered trying. But there was a difference between a memory, time-dimmed and fingered threadbare, and the reality; less perfect – if he'd conjured this scene up in his mind, they'd both most certainly have been naked and he rather thought he'd have given himself a carpet to kneel on – but so infinitely preferable because it was real.
He could feel Rupert striving to stay still, out of a misguided consideration most probably, but that wasn't what Ethan wanted. Not this time. He wanted his mouth fucked by Ripper as simple as that, and as he most certainly wasn't going to stop doing this for long enough to say the few words needed to ask for it, he settled for moving his hand around to cup Rupert's arse, feeling the muscles tighten under his hand as he urged Rupert wordlessly to just stop holding back.
Rupert's hesitation was so brief as to be almost non-existent then he surged forward, driving his cock deep into Ethan's willing mouth. Ethan could feel the fabric of his trousers rough against his knees, his own cock tight and swollen behind the thinner cotton layer of his boxers as he eagerly sucked Ripper's cock with wide, slick movements of his tongue and a rhythmic, anxious indrawn breath through his nose.
He could feel the skin stretched thin, almost fragile, over the head of Ripper's cock, hot blood pulsing just beneath the surface. Ripper groaned, fingers tightening in Ethan's hair, head falling back against the door with a muffled thud, and Ethan tasted a slight hint of what was to come – salty sweet and enough to make him take Ripper in even deeper, wanting more.
They found a rhythm between one thrust and the next, with him meeting each smooth, forward tilt of Rupert's hips with parted lips and teeth, getting in as much stimulation as he could, sucking and licking with an enthusiasm that verged on avid before Rupert pulled back, leaving Ethan with nothing to do but wait for that next eager, welcome, invasion of his mouth.
Rupert was making sounds that didn't need to be words to tell Ethan how he felt, sounds that meant 'yes' and 'more', although there was nothing he could do with his mouth that he wasn't already doing and Ripper had to know that. They told him he was doing this right as if he didn't already know that, the way Rupert's cock was hardening and starting to spill small bursts of come, the intense taste mixing with his saliva as he swallowed.
Ethan made a little sound on the next thrust, not quite a whimper as Ripper's cock slid back far enough to threaten his gag reflex. It didn't matter – Ethan had trained himself to prevent it from being triggered years ago, and he'd had enough practice lately that it wasn't an issue. Every time it nearly happened, though, it made his own cock jolt with awareness.
He looked up, needing to see Rupert's face. He wanted to remember that this was Rupert and not some nameless stranger filling his shoes for a brief encounter.
He expected Rupert's eyes to be closed; for him to have withdrawn into himself this close to coming, allowing Ethan to see him without being seen.
But Rupert's eyes were open – his eyelids lowered slightly, yes, but open, and watching Ethan as if he wanted to be reassured as much as Ethan did that this was happening, that this was real.
The connection between them that Ethan had refused to believe still existed and didn't trust because it hadn't saved him from being abandoned last time snapped back into place with that shared look, undeniable and complete. Rupert's eyes closed a second later, a second too late, the smooth pattern of his thrusts changing into helpless, graceless jerks as his body reached the point where release was the only option.
Ethan dug his fingers into the hard muscle of Rupert's arse as the first wave of orgasm rippled through him, sucking harder and drawing a harsh groan from Rupert that would have made Ethan grin if his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied. The taste of Rupert's come flooded over Ethan's tongue and he swallowed quickly, urging Rupert with wordless lips to give up everything he had.
Rupert's hands loosened their grip in Ethan's hair and slid down. Ethan felt Rupert's fingertips tracing the hollows in his cheeks as Ethan sucked at his cock, more gently now, coaxing more shudders of release from him. Then Rupert's fingers brushed against his lips, tracing the shape of them, held open and parted by his cock, and Ethan swallowed one last time and pulled away.
"You know, the last time I did this for someone, I insisted on a cushion for my knees," Ethan said trying to sound jaunty in spite of his own swollen cock and the expression on Rupert's face.
Rupert didn't answer him immediately, which was probably an answer in itself, his breathing still rapid and his features not under control enough for him to be capable of hiding what he was feeling. Which, Ethan noticed with a slight, delightedly apprehensive shiver, was starting to look like anger. Rupert pushed away from the door and glanced down at his cock, still half-erect and wet, before shrugging and casually holding it in place with one hand as he drew up his zip half way, a gesture not lost on Ethan because it implied this wasn't over while at the same time leaving Rupert dressed again. He'd have preferred it if Rupert had just let his trousers drop to the floor, but he wasn't about to say that.
"Get up," Rupert said, extending his hand. Ethan eyed it cautiously and then he let himself be helped up. His hand was released at once, leaving him standing very close to Rupert.
Uncertain now, Ethan did what he usually did when he was uncomfortable – retreated further behind his facade of casual cheerfulness. "I do like it when you go all stern headmaster on me. Am I to play the naughty schoolboy?"
"I'll play any game you want," Rupert told him, the anger leaving his face to be replaced by determination that wasn't, somehow, an improvement. "I'm sure I've been given a leading role in several of your favourite fantasies over the years. Just tell me and I'll do my best to make them real for you, Ethan, if that's really what you want." The words should have been flavoured with the dry bite of sarcasm, but he sounded sincere, which didn't make sense. "But you've got to give me something first." He smiled, and the threat was back. "Or you can take care of this –" he flicked the back of his fingers against Ethan's erection, hard enough to sting –"the usual way. And no, I don't want to watch."
"If you're thinking that the usual way is with my own hand, you'd be wrong," Ethan said, more disturbed by Rupert's attitude than he wanted to be. This wasn't playing, it was serious, and he didn't like it. Still, he couldn't keep from asking, "What is it you want?"
"You know what I want, Ethan," Rupert replied, his voice uneven. "And it's not a strings-free fuck. I know where to get those as well as you do, and they're better than nothing, I suppose, but are they really better than what we could have if you'd stop holding back?" His face hardened and his voice steadied. "You never used to be this willfully blind. Or do you think anyone you've fucked could ground you and channel your power?"
That wasn't playing fair, and Rupert knew it just as well as Ethan did. "You aren't seriously suggesting that I owe you something because of a possibly misguided twist of fate that's given you the ability to help me with my little problem?" Ethan asked. He wasn't playing fair either, but he didn't see why he should when Rupert wouldn't. "Am I really the one who's being willfully blind? You're the one who left me, Ripper, not the other way around, and now you're implying that I'm the one with commitment issues because I don't fancy a repeat performance?"
Somehow, the look of defeat that got him as the truth of what he was saying hit home wasn't as satisfying as it should have been.
"You don't owe me anything," Rupert said, leaning back against the door and rubbing his hand across his face. "It's not as if I chose to be able to do it. The only choice I made – recently – was to help you, and I won't lie to you; that was through guilt as much as concern, although the concern was there." He put out his hand, but it was only to push Ethan aside so that he could walk past him into the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, shoving the scattered papers aside, his back turned so that Ethan couldn't see his face. "I'm not the only one who left, Ethan. The last few times, it's been you. Coming to me, taunting me, disappearing... except last time you threw in a twist and stayed for long enough that we ended up in bed." He twisted his head and stared at Ethan. "Payback time. And here we go again."
All of it just made Ethan... tired. He went over to Rupert, sitting down on the chair beside his but making no attempt to touch him. "So we just keep on doing the same old thing time and again?" he asked wearily. He knew that Rupert was right – that he'd been trying to pay Rupert back for having left him that first time, that he'd never forgiven him for it. But he didn't know how to let it go. He just wasn't built that way, and to expect him to embrace a possible future together with open arms and no fear... he couldn't do that, either. "I do appreciate what you're trying to do, Rupert. It's not easy. I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning – or two mornings from now, or a week from now – to find you've gone back to your old life. I don't want to be an interlude."
"I will be going back to my old life," Rupert said. "I never left it. Taking a few days – a week – whatever – to help save your life, and God knows how many others, given what was happening when you lost control– that's what I've been doing for years. Saving the world. Nice work, if you can get it." He turned his head to look at Ethan, looking older, looking... old. "I'm not going anywhere, Ethan. Back to Sunnydale if Buffy needs me, yes, but that's not likely, and I don't suppose you're being literal."
Ethan didn't know what Rupert was saying. "So where, exactly, does that leave me?"
Rupert sighed. "Dealing with my selfishness when you've got enough on your plate." He shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. "Damn. Maudlin. You're right. Sorry." His lips twisted into an apologetic smile. "And you still haven't – oh well. I suppose asking you to forgive me and try again killed the mood fairly effectively, didn't it?"
"I don't think you're selfish," Ethan said. That was, in fact, one thing that he was quite certain of. "Although yes, the mood does seem to be most sincerely dead." He leant back in his chair, looking at Rupert. "I am glad that we ran into each other again, and not just because you seem to be such an effective lightning rod to my storm. We had a lot of good times together, didn't we?"
Rupert relaxed a little. "We did. I suppose I should be grateful that at the moment there's nothing stopping us having more in the future as we're getting along, for the most part." He smiled at Ethan, looking a little less strained. "Feel free to celebrate; you've managed to walk back into my life and turn it upside down, just the way you like it."
What Ethan liked was to know that he had the power to turn Rupert's world upside down. Actually doing it was a secondary sort of pleasure which in no way measured up to the first. "Is it really all that bad?" he asked curiously, trying to grasp a concept as personally foreign to him as the cessation of the existence of gravity would have been to Sir Isaac Newton. "Do you hate surprises that much?"
"Such as the waking up as a demon variety of surprises?" Rupert asked dryly. "Well, yes, I do rather. That can't be news to you."
"I was speaking more generally," Ethan said. "It's a shame, really; not being able to see the beauty in the way things change. In the sheer, if you'll excuse the term, chaos of it all." He'd always thought that was one of the reasons Rupert liked him; because of his ability to rejoice in the midst of confusion.
"I can accept that there's something good and natural in growth," Rupert replied. "Even though it leads inevitably to decay and death, not to be morbid about it." He gave Ethan a challenging look. "But you force changes; make things chaotic deliberately; there's nothing beautiful about that. It's..." He hesitated, and then said with a helpless shrug, "Messy. It's messy, and that bothers me."
"I think I've seen you enjoy messy a time or two," Ethan said. He wanted to understand what Rupert was feeling. "I don't want you to be unhappy, Ripper. I've never wanted that. And I think you might find that I've mellowed with age, but I certainly wouldn't try to convince you that I've changed completely. I haven't. I doubt I ever will."
"You make it sound as if I'm very boring," Rupert said without heat. "Don't I get any brownie points for fighting demons at my advanced age and pulling off some pretty impressive spells in the last few years?" He grimaced. "Don't answer that. I'm sure you'd have been cheering for the demons." He shifted his chair so that they were facing each other. "I think we've both mellowed a little. To the point where seeing you again didn't inspire me solely with the desire to punch first, ask questions later."
"I wouldn't have been cheering for the demons," Ethan said quietly. He wasn't quite ready to admit that he regretted the way things had turned out the last time he and Rupert had been together, not when he knew he'd been well punished for it regardless of Rupert's intentions in turning him over to the Initiative. "Although I'm sure I would have enjoyed watching the fight." Feeling tired again, he rubbed his forehead, looking at Rupert with a sort of longing that he hoped didn't show in his eyes. "So what now? Do we work on this translation some more and get it over with?"
"I suppose I should," Rupert said without enthusiasm. "Can't say that I want to, no matter how insistent Carlton is. It's very close to done, anyway; just needs to be finished and checked over. But there's no need for you to do it." His gaze sharpened. "You're feeling tired again, aren't you? Why don't you go and rest?"
"You have until tomorrow, don't you? You could come lie down with me." Ethan was hopeful.
"If I do, you won't get much rest," Rupert said. "Unless we zip the sleeping bags up this time."
Rupert didn't sound as if he'd be easily persuaded. "It might do me some good to be close to you," Ethan said. "I can't be without my grounding element, after all."
That got him a lifted eyebrow. "The bed's less than ten foot away; how much closer do I have to be?" Rupert sighed. "Ethan, if I get into bed with you, we'll end up naked, and then we'll end up arguing again. Unless this time I manage to make you come hard enough that you don't say something annoying while I'm still feeling weak in the knees. Or is that a physical impossibility?"
"We don't have to argue," Ethan suggested. "And I don't think you being weak in the knees would be a problem if you were in bed with me. You'll notice that I'm not denying we'd likely end up naked." He slid his chair a bit closer to Rupert's and reached out to touch Rupert's arm, running his hand along it in something closer to affection than anything else.
Rupert's hand covered his. "How about a negotiated compromise? I come to bed with you, and if – oh God, why even bother with the 'if'? – when we end up naked, with all that usually entails, you don't say anything afterwards apart from –" Rupert pursed his lips in thought. "Actually, nothing is fine. A speaking glance perhaps. I'm not ruling out a happy sigh either."
Ethan grinned. "I think I can manage that."
Well, ready for bed, anyway... ::grin::
Previous parts here
The Power of Persuasion by Jane Davitt and Wesleygirl
Part Eight
After a meal that included three pints and a rather obscenely large ploughman's lunch each, not to mention a fair amount of pleasant, light-hearted conversation, Ethan was feeling better than he had in some time. He couldn't tear his gaze away from Rupert, to the point where he'd actually eaten less than he might have, but that didn't matter. The three pints of bitter had left Ethan feeling warm and comfortable, and it was with some regret that he pushed back his chair when Rupert did and got to his feet.
The cat reappeared as if from nowhere and jumped up onto the seat Ethan had just vacated, putting its paws up on the edge of the table and sniffing at the remains of the meal on his plate with interest. "Wondered where he'd got to," Ethan said. "Wouldn't think cheese and pickle would be good for him."
"We had a cat that used to eat peas," Rupert said. "And when they're hungry, I suppose they're not fussy." He reached out and gave the cat his hand to sniff before tickling it under its chin, reducing it to a writhing, purring, ecstatic state. "Not that this one seems to be starving," he added, stroking its exposed, rounded stomach as it peered up at him. "Over-fed if anything."
The cat decided to take the comment personally, curling up and attacking Rupert's hand, grabbing it with its front paws – and claws – while its back paws came up and scrabbled wildly. Rupert yelped indignantly and pulled his hand away. "Stop that," he said sternly. "Bad cat!"
The cat, apparently offended by Rupert's tone, ran off in a blur.
"Bit of a split personality," Ethan said, moving closer to look at Rupert's scratched hand, holding it in his own. "Well, I think you'll live. Shall I kiss it better?"
"It's deeper than it looks," Rupert said, his fingers moving to wrap around Ethan's hand. "I think you might need to do a little more than that to make me feel better." Ethan glanced up from his examination of what was little more than reddened skin. Rupert smiled. "But it's certainly worth a try, I suppose."
Ethan moved in and kissed Rupert, just a soft, lingering movement of lips over lips, still holding his hand. It felt almost unbearably intimate because it was so slow and gentle, and he knew that he must look more than a bit anxious when he opened his eyes and met Rupert's again.
"You were supposed to kiss my hand," Rupert said, although he didn't sound displeased about the change in plans.
"I was going for more of a systemic effect," Ethan said.
Rupert nodded, the look in his eyes warm, although his voice was light. "That's a reasonable approach. Perhaps we could go home and you could continue the treatment?" He flexed his hand. "It does seem to be working. You're obviously good for me."
"Am I?" Ethan asked before he could stop himself. He liked the idea that he might be a great deal more than he should have.
Rupert didn't answer at once, giving it a more serious consideration than Ethan had expected. "You – remind me. Of things I've been very successful at forgetting. That's a mixed blessing, but it's needed, I suppose. And you –" He glanced at the table, littered with their empty glasses. "Too much beer," he murmured, "but at the risk of being sentimental, you – wake me up. Arouse me in more senses than the obvious. Yes, you're good for me, Ethan." He hesitated and then added reluctantly. "In small doses, anyway. For the long term, it would have to go both ways; I can't... accept the way you live, the things you do in the name of Chaos." His grip on Ethan's hand tightened for a moment and then he pulled his hand free and sighed. "Sorry. More than you wanted to hear. Blame the beer."
As much as he didn't want to be, Ethan couldn't help but be hurt by what Rupert had said. "Right," he muttered. "I'd forgotten how maudlin you get when you've been drinking." It might have been one of the reasons they'd fought so bitterly just before Rupert had left him all those years ago; because a maudlin Rupert was so much less fun than the normal version, and Ethan hadn't been able to stir him out of his brooding no matter how hard he'd tried. "Let's go then, before we get the urge to drink more and you decide you don't like what you imagine I'm doing."
"I am not getting –" Rupert looked vaguely insulted. "On three pints?" He turned towards the exit. "And why do I get the feeling you ignored everything I said first? Did you miss the compliments entirely?"
"I got a bit distracted by the part where you can't accept the way that you think I live," Ethan said.
"That I think you live?" Rupert said as they emerged onto the road. "I'm sorry; did you make a New Year's resolution to stop doing spells that leave people altered for the worse?"
Ethan tucked his hands into his pockets to keep warm and deliberately walked beside Rupert instead of behind him, even though it meant he was essentially walking in the road. "I didn't need to make a resolution," he said. "The American government did that for me. Well, not exactly, but the end result is the same."
"Not forever," Rupert said. "When we've dealt with what was done to you there's no reason why you won't be able to do as much magic as you like." A car came up behind them, going too fast for such a narrow road, and Rupert's hand shot out, pulling Ethan to him until it had gone by. "Assuming you're not a road fatality statistic by then."
Tightening his own hand on the front of Rupert's jacket, Ethan grinned, pressing their bodies together a bit more than they already had been. "Why, Ripper," he said softly. "I didn't know you cared."
Making a frustrated sound that was close enough to a growl to be promising – Ethan infinitely preferred him angry to wistful – Rupert kissed him, a swift, hard press of his lips that didn't last for long enough to let Ethan respond. "Then you haven't been paying attention," he said.
Ethan opened his mouth to say something – he wasn't quite sure what – but was interrupted by the electronic shrill of a cell phone in Rupert's pocket. He hadn't even realised the man had one, and he quickly stepped back into the road, not wanting to take a chance on shorting the mobile out by touching Rupert while he took the call.
"Why are you –? Oh." Rupert gave him an apologetic look and took out the phone. "Yes?" He started to walk, moving towards the entrance to the cliff side track a short distance ahead. Ethan followed him, staying a careful distance away, but listening to what Rupert was saying with a caution he'd learned over the years. "Yes, it's going very well... I can't see why not.... No, I'm not, but don't worry. I can fax you the..."
Ethan could fill in the gaps enough to guess that Rupert was talking to his client with the odd taste in spells and he relaxed. Nothing to do with him then.
Rupert ended the call and tucked the phone away, turning around to see where Ethan was. "Mr. Carlton," he said ruefully. "Making sure I'll be finished by tomorrow and asking where the hell I was, but using rather more tact than that."
"He does seem very anxious to make use of your services," Ethan said, moving closer, watching Rupert's face to see if they might take up where they'd left off. "He's not the only one."
"Really?" Rupert asked, closing the gap between them. "Well, that's very flattering, but it leaves me with a difficult choice to make." The road was empty in both directions, the only sound the faint rush of the sea and the rustle of the wind in the hedge that ran alongside it. He hooked his hand in Ethan's jacket and walked back the few steps needed to bring them to the start of the track. Turning his head, Rupert nodded at it. "About fifteen minutes of walking along that, and we'll be back at somewhere with a bed and a table covered with papers I need to work on, unless you can convince me otherwise." He cocked his head to the side. "How good are you at being persuasive, Ethan?"
Ethan felt, if he were being perfectly honest with himself, a bit unsteady on his feet. He told himself rather firmly that it was the result of the three pints. "I'll try not to be offended that you've apparently forgotten," he said, attempting a normal tone of voice. "I do feel fairly confident in my ability to remind you." He wanted, truth be told, to get down on his knees right there, but Rupert wasn't nearly drunk enough for that.
"You know," Rupert said softly, releasing his hold on Ethan's jacket and sliding his hand up to curve behind Ethan's neck, in a possessive, warm grip, "so do I." His mouth brushed across Ethan's, teasingly light, and then returned for a deeper kiss, with Rupert's tongue flicking across lips Ethan was opening anyway.
With a soft moan, Ethan threw himself into the kiss, letting Rupert lead but following each move, each flicker of tongue, and giving as good as he got. He slid one hand underneath Rupert's jacket and around to the small of his back, pulling the other man closer as they continued to kiss until they were both breathless.
"Too persuasive," Rupert said, his voice husky as they broke apart. "And that bed's too bloody far, but I don't think –" He turned his head just as Ethan heard the sound of a dog, barking with excitement, the noise blended with the high chatter of children's voices coming from further down the track.
Rupert sighed, stepping back. "Hold that thought?" he suggested.
Ethan wanted Rupert even more than he had the night before, but he took a deep breath and turned toward the small crowd of children as they came in their direction. "I certainly won't be thinking of anything else," he said, smiling brightly at the dog, its tail wagging so vigorously that its entire hind end went back and forth.
One of the children looked at them curiously as they passed each other, but the rest were too busy talking amongst themselves to pay two adult men any mind. Ethan did turn his head to watch them cross the road safely, darting out when a car slowed and the driver waved them over.
"Quite a busy road," he commented. "Lots of traffic. All leaving the village, I hope you notice. Oh, speaking of which, you ought to check the battery in the rental when we get back." Not that he'd mind being stuck somewhere with Rupert, but given the option, he'd rather be stuck someplace with a few more amenities.
Rupert gave him an incredulous glance. "If you really think I'm going to start doing car maintenance when we get back –"
"If you think I'd let you, you're quite mad," Ethan said, grinning. "No, of course I didn't mean immediately." Still, he'd hate to have need of the car only to discover that it wouldn't start, so they'd have to check it later on in the afternoon.
If, of course, either of them was capable of getting out of bed at that point, and Ethan sincerely hoped that they wouldn't be.
"I promise I'll look at it," Giles said, starting to walk down the track and moving with a purposeful speed that Ethan approved of, even though the beer and the food had left him feeling more like strolling. Anything that could knock a few minutes off the time it would take to reach the cottage had his vote. "Later."
They made the rest of the journey back to the cottage without further interruptions from children, cars, or dogs. Ethan stood to one side and watched as Rupert unlocked the front door and then followed him inside, immediately turning Rupert and pressing him to the closed door, one hand on either side of Rupert's hips. "Is this the place where I persuade you?" he asked seductively.
"You already did," Rupert told him, leaning back against the door. "If you'd like me to seem unwilling, I'll try, but somehow –" His hand moved to circle Ethan's right wrist, and then slid down so that his fingers were interlaced with Ethan's. With a catch in his voice that had Ethan closing his eyes for a moment, remembering Rupert saying his name with just that intonation in the past, he brought their linked hands down so that Ethan's palm was cupping Rupert's cock, full and hard, and said, "I don't think I'll be very convincing."
Ethan pressed his palm more firmly against Rupert's erection, squeezing and feeling it harden further under his touch. "Yes, you do seem rather convinced," he murmured, rubbing himself against Rupert slowly as he brought his other hand down and began to unfasten Rupert's trousers. He was too eager to tease – not that he was ever much good at that – and in seconds he had Rupert's bare cock in his hands, stroking it and cupping Rupert's balls, feeling Rupert shudder in arousal.
"Ethan..." Rupert's head tilted, the slight shift in his position enough to make his cock slide through the circle of Ethan's fingers. Ethan leant in to give Rupert the kiss he clearly wanted, tightening his fingers as Rupert's hips jerked forward again. Rupert groaned and bit down hard on Ethan's lip, running his tongue over the spot a moment later in what, from Ethan's perspective, was an unneeded apology. Making Rupert lose control wasn't always a wise move, but he'd never been able to resist trying, and in circumstances like this it couldn't lead to anything but pleasure for both of them.
Pulling Ethan in close, Rupert kissed him roughly, tongue exploring the inside of Ethan's mouth. Ethan managed to get hold of Rupert's cock again, almost groaning as his fingers closed around the hard, hot shaft, and he couldn't help himself – he had to slide down to his knees and do what he'd wanted to do on the path outside, take Rupert's cock into his mouth and taste it.
Ripper's hands were in Ethan's hair, and they weren't gentle, either, which was just fine by Ethan. If this was only going to last a few days, he didn't want gentle or God forbid, loving. He just wanted Rupert's hands on him, Rupert's cock in him, wanted fierce careless shagging with no strings attached.
His world narrowed to a series of sensory impressions – the sharp, tiny pain as a strand of his hair was caught between Rupert's fingers, the ache of his knees pressing against the wooden floor, the tickle of wiry, curled hair against his face as he took Rupert in as deeply as he could.
It wasn't that he'd ever forgotten what Rupert felt like in his mouth, how he tasted, how he smelled; that indefinable scent that lay unchanging beneath the mixture of soaps used to wash body or clothes. No. He didn't think he could, and he'd never bothered trying. But there was a difference between a memory, time-dimmed and fingered threadbare, and the reality; less perfect – if he'd conjured this scene up in his mind, they'd both most certainly have been naked and he rather thought he'd have given himself a carpet to kneel on – but so infinitely preferable because it was real.
He could feel Rupert striving to stay still, out of a misguided consideration most probably, but that wasn't what Ethan wanted. Not this time. He wanted his mouth fucked by Ripper as simple as that, and as he most certainly wasn't going to stop doing this for long enough to say the few words needed to ask for it, he settled for moving his hand around to cup Rupert's arse, feeling the muscles tighten under his hand as he urged Rupert wordlessly to just stop holding back.
Rupert's hesitation was so brief as to be almost non-existent then he surged forward, driving his cock deep into Ethan's willing mouth. Ethan could feel the fabric of his trousers rough against his knees, his own cock tight and swollen behind the thinner cotton layer of his boxers as he eagerly sucked Ripper's cock with wide, slick movements of his tongue and a rhythmic, anxious indrawn breath through his nose.
He could feel the skin stretched thin, almost fragile, over the head of Ripper's cock, hot blood pulsing just beneath the surface. Ripper groaned, fingers tightening in Ethan's hair, head falling back against the door with a muffled thud, and Ethan tasted a slight hint of what was to come – salty sweet and enough to make him take Ripper in even deeper, wanting more.
They found a rhythm between one thrust and the next, with him meeting each smooth, forward tilt of Rupert's hips with parted lips and teeth, getting in as much stimulation as he could, sucking and licking with an enthusiasm that verged on avid before Rupert pulled back, leaving Ethan with nothing to do but wait for that next eager, welcome, invasion of his mouth.
Rupert was making sounds that didn't need to be words to tell Ethan how he felt, sounds that meant 'yes' and 'more', although there was nothing he could do with his mouth that he wasn't already doing and Ripper had to know that. They told him he was doing this right as if he didn't already know that, the way Rupert's cock was hardening and starting to spill small bursts of come, the intense taste mixing with his saliva as he swallowed.
Ethan made a little sound on the next thrust, not quite a whimper as Ripper's cock slid back far enough to threaten his gag reflex. It didn't matter – Ethan had trained himself to prevent it from being triggered years ago, and he'd had enough practice lately that it wasn't an issue. Every time it nearly happened, though, it made his own cock jolt with awareness.
He looked up, needing to see Rupert's face. He wanted to remember that this was Rupert and not some nameless stranger filling his shoes for a brief encounter.
He expected Rupert's eyes to be closed; for him to have withdrawn into himself this close to coming, allowing Ethan to see him without being seen.
But Rupert's eyes were open – his eyelids lowered slightly, yes, but open, and watching Ethan as if he wanted to be reassured as much as Ethan did that this was happening, that this was real.
The connection between them that Ethan had refused to believe still existed and didn't trust because it hadn't saved him from being abandoned last time snapped back into place with that shared look, undeniable and complete. Rupert's eyes closed a second later, a second too late, the smooth pattern of his thrusts changing into helpless, graceless jerks as his body reached the point where release was the only option.
Ethan dug his fingers into the hard muscle of Rupert's arse as the first wave of orgasm rippled through him, sucking harder and drawing a harsh groan from Rupert that would have made Ethan grin if his mouth hadn't been otherwise occupied. The taste of Rupert's come flooded over Ethan's tongue and he swallowed quickly, urging Rupert with wordless lips to give up everything he had.
Rupert's hands loosened their grip in Ethan's hair and slid down. Ethan felt Rupert's fingertips tracing the hollows in his cheeks as Ethan sucked at his cock, more gently now, coaxing more shudders of release from him. Then Rupert's fingers brushed against his lips, tracing the shape of them, held open and parted by his cock, and Ethan swallowed one last time and pulled away.
"You know, the last time I did this for someone, I insisted on a cushion for my knees," Ethan said trying to sound jaunty in spite of his own swollen cock and the expression on Rupert's face.
Rupert didn't answer him immediately, which was probably an answer in itself, his breathing still rapid and his features not under control enough for him to be capable of hiding what he was feeling. Which, Ethan noticed with a slight, delightedly apprehensive shiver, was starting to look like anger. Rupert pushed away from the door and glanced down at his cock, still half-erect and wet, before shrugging and casually holding it in place with one hand as he drew up his zip half way, a gesture not lost on Ethan because it implied this wasn't over while at the same time leaving Rupert dressed again. He'd have preferred it if Rupert had just let his trousers drop to the floor, but he wasn't about to say that.
"Get up," Rupert said, extending his hand. Ethan eyed it cautiously and then he let himself be helped up. His hand was released at once, leaving him standing very close to Rupert.
Uncertain now, Ethan did what he usually did when he was uncomfortable – retreated further behind his facade of casual cheerfulness. "I do like it when you go all stern headmaster on me. Am I to play the naughty schoolboy?"
"I'll play any game you want," Rupert told him, the anger leaving his face to be replaced by determination that wasn't, somehow, an improvement. "I'm sure I've been given a leading role in several of your favourite fantasies over the years. Just tell me and I'll do my best to make them real for you, Ethan, if that's really what you want." The words should have been flavoured with the dry bite of sarcasm, but he sounded sincere, which didn't make sense. "But you've got to give me something first." He smiled, and the threat was back. "Or you can take care of this –" he flicked the back of his fingers against Ethan's erection, hard enough to sting –"the usual way. And no, I don't want to watch."
"If you're thinking that the usual way is with my own hand, you'd be wrong," Ethan said, more disturbed by Rupert's attitude than he wanted to be. This wasn't playing, it was serious, and he didn't like it. Still, he couldn't keep from asking, "What is it you want?"
"You know what I want, Ethan," Rupert replied, his voice uneven. "And it's not a strings-free fuck. I know where to get those as well as you do, and they're better than nothing, I suppose, but are they really better than what we could have if you'd stop holding back?" His face hardened and his voice steadied. "You never used to be this willfully blind. Or do you think anyone you've fucked could ground you and channel your power?"
That wasn't playing fair, and Rupert knew it just as well as Ethan did. "You aren't seriously suggesting that I owe you something because of a possibly misguided twist of fate that's given you the ability to help me with my little problem?" Ethan asked. He wasn't playing fair either, but he didn't see why he should when Rupert wouldn't. "Am I really the one who's being willfully blind? You're the one who left me, Ripper, not the other way around, and now you're implying that I'm the one with commitment issues because I don't fancy a repeat performance?"
Somehow, the look of defeat that got him as the truth of what he was saying hit home wasn't as satisfying as it should have been.
"You don't owe me anything," Rupert said, leaning back against the door and rubbing his hand across his face. "It's not as if I chose to be able to do it. The only choice I made – recently – was to help you, and I won't lie to you; that was through guilt as much as concern, although the concern was there." He put out his hand, but it was only to push Ethan aside so that he could walk past him into the room. He pulled out a chair and sat down at the table, shoving the scattered papers aside, his back turned so that Ethan couldn't see his face. "I'm not the only one who left, Ethan. The last few times, it's been you. Coming to me, taunting me, disappearing... except last time you threw in a twist and stayed for long enough that we ended up in bed." He twisted his head and stared at Ethan. "Payback time. And here we go again."
All of it just made Ethan... tired. He went over to Rupert, sitting down on the chair beside his but making no attempt to touch him. "So we just keep on doing the same old thing time and again?" he asked wearily. He knew that Rupert was right – that he'd been trying to pay Rupert back for having left him that first time, that he'd never forgiven him for it. But he didn't know how to let it go. He just wasn't built that way, and to expect him to embrace a possible future together with open arms and no fear... he couldn't do that, either. "I do appreciate what you're trying to do, Rupert. It's not easy. I don't want to wake up tomorrow morning – or two mornings from now, or a week from now – to find you've gone back to your old life. I don't want to be an interlude."
"I will be going back to my old life," Rupert said. "I never left it. Taking a few days – a week – whatever – to help save your life, and God knows how many others, given what was happening when you lost control– that's what I've been doing for years. Saving the world. Nice work, if you can get it." He turned his head to look at Ethan, looking older, looking... old. "I'm not going anywhere, Ethan. Back to Sunnydale if Buffy needs me, yes, but that's not likely, and I don't suppose you're being literal."
Ethan didn't know what Rupert was saying. "So where, exactly, does that leave me?"
Rupert sighed. "Dealing with my selfishness when you've got enough on your plate." He shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. "Damn. Maudlin. You're right. Sorry." His lips twisted into an apologetic smile. "And you still haven't – oh well. I suppose asking you to forgive me and try again killed the mood fairly effectively, didn't it?"
"I don't think you're selfish," Ethan said. That was, in fact, one thing that he was quite certain of. "Although yes, the mood does seem to be most sincerely dead." He leant back in his chair, looking at Rupert. "I am glad that we ran into each other again, and not just because you seem to be such an effective lightning rod to my storm. We had a lot of good times together, didn't we?"
Rupert relaxed a little. "We did. I suppose I should be grateful that at the moment there's nothing stopping us having more in the future as we're getting along, for the most part." He smiled at Ethan, looking a little less strained. "Feel free to celebrate; you've managed to walk back into my life and turn it upside down, just the way you like it."
What Ethan liked was to know that he had the power to turn Rupert's world upside down. Actually doing it was a secondary sort of pleasure which in no way measured up to the first. "Is it really all that bad?" he asked curiously, trying to grasp a concept as personally foreign to him as the cessation of the existence of gravity would have been to Sir Isaac Newton. "Do you hate surprises that much?"
"Such as the waking up as a demon variety of surprises?" Rupert asked dryly. "Well, yes, I do rather. That can't be news to you."
"I was speaking more generally," Ethan said. "It's a shame, really; not being able to see the beauty in the way things change. In the sheer, if you'll excuse the term, chaos of it all." He'd always thought that was one of the reasons Rupert liked him; because of his ability to rejoice in the midst of confusion.
"I can accept that there's something good and natural in growth," Rupert replied. "Even though it leads inevitably to decay and death, not to be morbid about it." He gave Ethan a challenging look. "But you force changes; make things chaotic deliberately; there's nothing beautiful about that. It's..." He hesitated, and then said with a helpless shrug, "Messy. It's messy, and that bothers me."
"I think I've seen you enjoy messy a time or two," Ethan said. He wanted to understand what Rupert was feeling. "I don't want you to be unhappy, Ripper. I've never wanted that. And I think you might find that I've mellowed with age, but I certainly wouldn't try to convince you that I've changed completely. I haven't. I doubt I ever will."
"You make it sound as if I'm very boring," Rupert said without heat. "Don't I get any brownie points for fighting demons at my advanced age and pulling off some pretty impressive spells in the last few years?" He grimaced. "Don't answer that. I'm sure you'd have been cheering for the demons." He shifted his chair so that they were facing each other. "I think we've both mellowed a little. To the point where seeing you again didn't inspire me solely with the desire to punch first, ask questions later."
"I wouldn't have been cheering for the demons," Ethan said quietly. He wasn't quite ready to admit that he regretted the way things had turned out the last time he and Rupert had been together, not when he knew he'd been well punished for it regardless of Rupert's intentions in turning him over to the Initiative. "Although I'm sure I would have enjoyed watching the fight." Feeling tired again, he rubbed his forehead, looking at Rupert with a sort of longing that he hoped didn't show in his eyes. "So what now? Do we work on this translation some more and get it over with?"
"I suppose I should," Rupert said without enthusiasm. "Can't say that I want to, no matter how insistent Carlton is. It's very close to done, anyway; just needs to be finished and checked over. But there's no need for you to do it." His gaze sharpened. "You're feeling tired again, aren't you? Why don't you go and rest?"
"You have until tomorrow, don't you? You could come lie down with me." Ethan was hopeful.
"If I do, you won't get much rest," Rupert said. "Unless we zip the sleeping bags up this time."
Rupert didn't sound as if he'd be easily persuaded. "It might do me some good to be close to you," Ethan said. "I can't be without my grounding element, after all."
That got him a lifted eyebrow. "The bed's less than ten foot away; how much closer do I have to be?" Rupert sighed. "Ethan, if I get into bed with you, we'll end up naked, and then we'll end up arguing again. Unless this time I manage to make you come hard enough that you don't say something annoying while I'm still feeling weak in the knees. Or is that a physical impossibility?"
"We don't have to argue," Ethan suggested. "And I don't think you being weak in the knees would be a problem if you were in bed with me. You'll notice that I'm not denying we'd likely end up naked." He slid his chair a bit closer to Rupert's and reached out to touch Rupert's arm, running his hand along it in something closer to affection than anything else.
Rupert's hand covered his. "How about a negotiated compromise? I come to bed with you, and if – oh God, why even bother with the 'if'? – when we end up naked, with all that usually entails, you don't say anything afterwards apart from –" Rupert pursed his lips in thought. "Actually, nothing is fine. A speaking glance perhaps. I'm not ruling out a happy sigh either."
Ethan grinned. "I think I can manage that."