Moving On

[feline_grace]

A continuation from here

Duncan watches Paul rest for some time. The light never truly fades into darkness, merely shifting from something bright into something more subdued. His hand stays in Paul's, thumb brushing slow circles into the back of his hand should he twitch in a nightmare. The shadows creep across features Duncan had long ago committed to memory.

The tug he feels is subtle, just behind his ribs, but it is one Duncan recognizes. The dead have need of him, and when the Atreides call, Duncan will always answer. He will see them to their final rest.

"Paul." Gently he shakes his shoulder. He hates to disturb his rest, but he had promised to stay with him, to not leave him alone. "We have work to do."

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[feline_grace]

Paul's words are kind and as warm as his touch. His devotion is forever, House Atreides stitched into the very fabric of his soul. When he'd been taken in, offered shelter and purpose and his skills were rewarded with kindness, Duncan knows he'd found his home.

He cups his cheek, his face soft. "My boy. My lord. I will always choose you. Without hesitation, without regret." With a nudge he draws him down for a kiss. "My only regret is that I was not able to stay with you through your trials. I would have shouldered the burden with you."

A kiss to his forehead, "I would willingly and freely reaffirm my bond to you. Forever."

sorry for the wait, busy weekend! <3

[kwisatzhaderach]

Duncan's tenderness is everything he'd been missing. It is love for love's sake. Not because it is expected or being used for leverage, but because it is felt and true. Paul lets himself be pulled into its warmth, dipping his head for the kiss that eases all of his fears and words that remind him that no matter his genetic lineage, he is Atreides through and through.

The Spice Agony might have killed the parts of him that Duncan had nurtured, but here beyond the grasp of Prophecy, Paul Atreides lives again and he wants so desperately to be good and to be loved. "To forever, then," he says softly while turning his head back up to reclaim Duncan's mouth. The promise is the last lock on the door to other-memory. He uses it as a barricade against everything he'd learned upon drinking the Water of Life, including his genetic heritage.

He's beyond the grasp of the Bene Gesserit and once they leave this place, whatever it is, they'll leave behind the people who have been brought here under his reign. With Duncan, he'll get to start over and that gift is one he wants to return in kind, deepening their kiss with a desire to reaffirm more than just the bond they'll forge.

"Will you let me have you?" he asks quietly against Duncan's mouth, anticipation and nerves twisting him up as he cradles Duncan's jaw, his thumb pressed under that strong chin so that their lips brush against each other as Paul speaks. "In every way our bodies allow?" His body's still young, primed by youth and desire, and even if he's never been with another man before, there's nothing about Duncan that feels unfamiliar and he knows that the second he's inside of him it will feel exactly like home.

No worries!

[feline_grace]

When Paul's eyes go distant, Duncan stills, waiting for him to return. It reminds him of a troubled young man, coming to him to fret about his dreams. Paul had needed solace and Duncan had always offered it to him in jest, in affection or in distraction.

Always patient, always faithful, Duncan waits for Paul to return to him.

A soft sound into the next kiss, shifting their bodies. Fondly he smooths a large hand through his hair. "You have always had me," a gentle tease.

"Yes." Of course Duncan will offer up everything he is for his Paul. "I'll show you what to do."

[kwisatzhaderach]

The endless patience and grace make it so much easier for Paul to fall into this. To cast off the last link in the chain that bound him to prophecy. He lets all that he was fall away, a cocoon of tyranny he's all too happy to climb free of. And there, waiting for him, is Duncan.

Paul smiles with the levity, freely giving himself up to the deliberate way Duncan helps soothe him with words and affection. The touch to his hair helping him to breathe easier despite the way his next inhale is sharp with need. "You always do," he teased in turn. There isn't a single one of Duncan's instructions that Paul has not held dear and sought to perfect.

His hand dips, curving over the length of Duncan's throat, then smoothing back through his hair. He rests it upon the bed and pushes himself up, just enough to look down between their bodies. "Every inch of you is perfect." It's not just idle flattery. Seeing all of Duncan makes Paul want to leave his mark on him. His blessing. The Atreides seal of approval stamped across Duncan's entire being. He settles for starting with his mouth, then his neck, worrying the skin there with his teeth but only after murmuring, "Where should we begin?"

[feline_grace]

Duncan laughs warmly, tipping his head back to allow his Paul to mark up his neck again. His hands rest at his waist, gently encouraging Paul to roll to the side. "We'll need something to ease the way."

There is a small washroom adjacent to their bed and he pads inside to explore. A small container of oil will do the trick and he brings it back, smiling at the sight of Paul in the bed. He's relaxed, his long and lean body comfortably sprawled.

"Lay on your back," he instructs, moving to straddle his thighs. Carefully Duncan oils his fingers, reaching back to begin to ready his body for Paul.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The evidence of where his mouth has been is a thrill. Like seeing Duncan in their house colors or signing in the Atreides battle language, Paul flourishes with pride at seeing how effortlessly Duncan wears his mark. It makes the sight of him as he goes easier to bear. All bare, bronzed skin and feline grace, watching Duncan move like this is its own pleasure. One that makes his nerves spike and his excitement pulse heady through his cock.

He welcomes Duncan back with a hand that smooths up a thickly muscled thigh, shifting to sit up on an elbow to better touch him now that he's within reach. "And deny myself the opportunity to admire you up close?" The suggestion of Duncan beginning to open himself is one Paul wishes he could see for himself. Another time. They have forever, after all, and it's only the promise of forever that has him lying back.

"Is it harder then? With another man?" He wears his curiosity openly, as if they're talking battle strategy or strike formations and not how eager Paul is to join their bodies together as evident by the hand he drops to curl around himself, already achingly hard again especially with the sight of Duncan looming over him, naked and perfect.

[feline_grace]

A scarred brow lofts as a smirk curls his lips, gently teasing as he rumbles a laugh at Paul's choice of words. His free hand reaches out to ghost over where Paul is touching himself.

"Not more difficult, it just requires a little extra time, a little extra planning." Duncan makes a soft, hungry sound as he keeps readying his body.

"Gurney was always impatient." Because warriors would sometimes find comfort in one another's arms. Sex was life affirming and when they often trafficked in death, the reminder was what kept them human.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The gentlest brush is enough to fan the fires of his desire for Duncan. The gentle embers flare hot enough for him to suck a breath in to steady himself but Paul feels all that control loosen as Duncan makes a sound he's never heard before.

And then the blaze burns away all his careful neutrality to let Duncan ready himself without his help at the mention of Gurney. His two masters entangled in a way that sears itself across his imagination with the kind of lurid fascination one stares at a bonfire with. Paul shifts, sitting up from beneath the arch of Duncan's thighs to seek out the oil, dipping his fingers in them like a consecration before reaching around to let his touch join Duncan's.

"Was it better?" Paul asks with lips that press a kiss to Duncan's stomach as the glide of his touch finds the source of Duncan's heat, saving his next question for the pressure that comes with pushing a finger in alongside Duncan's. "When he was impatient?" The warmth that envelops him, the tightness, makes him ache so profoundly that he understands why Gurney couldn't wait. It takes all of Paul's control to keep from pulling Duncan down into his lap.

"Or do you prefer it slow?" He'll give Duncan whatever he wants, knows that there will be times when the need overwrites his ability to wait, but in this first time joining their bodies together, Paul wants it to be exactly as Duncan has imagined it. Every tenderness, every bead of affection, something Paul gives willingly as he kisses his fevered skin again before titling his head up to watch him as they work together to make him ready.

[feline_grace]

Duncan reaches to cup the back of his neck, keeping Paul close as he continues to touch himself. The gentle press of careful fingers drives the air from his lungs and he bends to kiss him. This is no dream, this is Paul beneath him, warm and eager and so ready. As their fingers slip inside him, Duncan groans both at the sensation and the memories of tangling with the Warmaster.

"The moment drove how urgent we were," he explains after a beat. "And who was readying themselves."

He can finally talk about Gurney without a sharp pang of grief. He survived the attack and the betrayal, that was all Duncan could hope for. Perhaps this was a fraction of the peace promised to everyone on this train.

Another few quick movements, his fingers working his body open before he nods down at Paul. "Lie back, love." It's an easy thing to catch hold of Paul and guide him into the warm clutch of his body.

Home. This is everything he had ever dreamed about.

[kwisatzhaderach]

It doesn't surprise him that their men found comfort in each other and that they shared without reservation. Loyalty and trust were the foundations of the House and Paul recognizes that the surest way to share in that when not in the battlefield was in each other's bunks. The Atreides fought with love and ardor. That was what had made them so formidable. It was why the Harkonnen would never have stood a chance without the aid of the Sardaukar, because the Atreides did not just fight for their House, they fought for each other.

His heart feels the ache of knowing just how deeply bittersweet each farewell must be for Duncan as he leads them to the light. It makes him hold tighter to Duncan, seeking to press deeper into him with ardent desire and a fierce need to protect him from further loneliness. I'm here, he wants his body to say and when Duncan has him lie back, Paul reaches to steal one more life-affirming kiss before doing as he's told.

Staying still however is an impossibility as Duncan guides him into the tight heat of his body. His own seeks to bury itself in the warmth that briefly struggles to accommodate him, a momentary resistance that he steadily pushes past until he's snugly enveloped by Duncan, guided deeper with hands upon Duncan's hips.

"Duncan." The sound is guttural, raw. A wanton noise of pleasure and relief at the sensation of finally feeling whole. Complete. Home.

Paul arches after the entirety of himself is sheathed, trying to get just that much deeper, seeking out noises from Duncan he's never heard until now as he tilts his head back to relish the feel. He wants to watch, to consume the sight of Duncan as Duncan consumes every inch of him, but he also needs to brace himself first, to let himself be briefly overwhelmed by the idea of an eternity of this. Of them.

"I would have bound myself to you in life," he gasps when he can finally speak beyond the hungry sounds of desire, lifting his head to lock his eyes with the one man he's loved with all of himself. His gaze is blown, wild with all the love and need pumping through him at the sight and feel of Duncan. "I'll give you everything in this one," Paul promises when he finally reaches up to guide Duncan down to meet his mouth, wanting to be joined at every possible angle.

[feline_grace]

And in Duncan's deepest hidden dreams, he would have taken Paul into his bunk in the barracks, let the men know how much he loved their lord. A dream he could never have given voice to before and one that feels so real as he breathes through the pressure of Paul breaching his body.

Anything for Paul.
Anything for his love, his lord.

A quiet groan into the kiss as his fingers catch Paul's curls, bringing a lock to his lips. "We have each other now. That's what matters." Duncan rolls his hips, fingers clenching in the sheets as his head tips back with a sound of pleasure.

[kwisatzhaderach]

There's a gentle ferocity to this that Paul doesn't take for granted. It's a hunger borne of a lifetime of want, of secret fantasies, and hidden desires. How he'd only ever been able to dream about the possibility of seeing Duncan like this, carnal and open, despite wanting to drag his swordmaster into the shadows to see how riled he could get them in the privacy of whatever corner they could make their own. And then the reward that would come after, the praise and adoration that he'd lavish on him in the barracks, where he could trust the men inside to keep their secret.

They don't need to keep anything secret now and Paul has to remind himself of that as an obscenity tears through him at the feeling of Duncan moving, taking more. It's the same cadence in which they used to practice. A slow circling, a quickening tempo, a parry in the way that Paul grips Duncan's hips hard enough to bruise in his efforts to keep from bucking up into him.

There's a tenderness to this too that he doesn't want to let slip away. The way that Duncan's hair brushes his skin, the kiss to his own, how Duncan looks as he guides them both through their pleasure. Paul is stricken with love for all of it. All of him. "You're every bit as perfect as I knew you'd be," he pants with a fondness in his voice that's only rivaled by the roughness underneath it. The ragged breath he's taking as he arches to give Duncan something more, a little bit of edge to see if he can get him to come undone. "My sword," he pants, "my shield. My everything." Because it isn't just about what he can give to Duncan's body, he wants his heart to ache with how full it is too.

[feline_grace]

"My Paul, my love, my lord." The words are spoken like vows, pressed into his skin as he rolls his hips, groaning his pleasure into his skin. They move slow and easy at first, Paul learning the cadence and the motions as Duncan guides him and ever the good student, Paul excels.

Duncan sucks a mark into his chest, a red mark against his fair, perfect skin.

He is no longer alone. Bound by duty and love, but free to express those hidden, secret feelings without reproach.

[kwisatzhaderach]

If finally making love to Duncan is this exquisitely overwhelming and perfect, then Paul cannot fathom what the process of binding themselves to each other must look like. The beauty of finally having this is juxtaposed only by the agony of knowing he won't be able to make it last. Not when everything about Duncan is warm and tight and safe. And certainly not when Duncan sets his mouth to his chest, sucking at the skin there in a way that further loosens his grasp on coherency.

"Duncan," the gasp is sharp and high as Paul clutches at those maddening hips, whittled into need by the way they move and the mark he can still feel like a brand on his chest. "Another," he pants, eager and wanting the proof of their union everywhere. No longer wishing to go without the feeling of Duncan in his skin or lungs.

He breathes him in, a bracing breath that comes out ragged. This is everything and the gravity of that, the intensity has his toes curling with the effort to make it last just a little longer as he arches up to give Duncan more even as his skin goes tight with the feeling of an inevitable end. Paul wants to keep them like this, suspended in the throes of ecstasy, and to keep Duncan wrapped around him so neither of them have to feel the pangs of separation ever again.

[feline_grace]

As Paul begs for another mark, Duncan gently takes one of his hands from his hip and slips it between them. He can read the tension in Paul's body, moving to keep them both steadily riding towards that perfect crest.

It only takes a few careful strokes before his body folds forward with a low, punched out groan, his body shuddering out his release.

Paul. His Paul.

They will rest. They will find a way to bind their souls together in every way that they couldn't in life.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The steely feel of Duncan in his grasp is like holding hot iron. Paul is overwhelmed with what it means to know exactly how affected Duncan is, how primed he is for everything their bodies can do together and when the splash of it marks him in an altogether different way than the mouth that had left imprints in his skin, Paul's own release follows with a buck of his body and a moan that bellows out of him with enough force he has to throw his head back.

In the come down, Paul has enough sense to gather Duncan down to his body, letting his larger one blanket him. It means slipping from the sheath of it, but he relishes the contact despite the shivers it inspires. His kisses are ceaseless, dotting Duncan's forehead, worshipping at his temple, and feathering into his hair. "All of me," Paul promises breathlessly, "belongs to you."

He rubs then taps the word in between Duncan's shoulderblades. Blessing. "Rest, Duncan. We have forever."