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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[kwisatzhaderach]

Besting Duncan in anything had been a rare and momentous thing when they'd been alive. There was a reason he was the pride of the Atreides. Yet those scant few times he'd been able to get one over on his swordmaster had left Paul beaming for days after. Incorrigible in his brief victory.

Paul feels something new and illicit curl inside of him as he hears the noises he can pull from Duncan with his mouth alone. It is a different kind of triumph, one he noises his own approval of as Duncan swears, making sounds he's never heard from the man before. The fervor it ignites in him has him chasing the thrill of such sounds. He introduces his teeth, biting and sucking with enough intent that by the time he leans back, sitting up in Duncan's lap, he can see the gleam of his handiwork.

"Always." There's tenderness in the way he bends back down, weight settled on one hand while his other strokes over the color that he's introduced along Duncan's neck. "And this," he murmurs against Duncan's lips, thumb pressing into the mark, "is what always looks like."

Paul kisses him slower, softer. Relishing in the gift that it is. His fingers pet through Duncan's hair, stroking back through it as he tilts the man's chin up to better explore his mouth. All of Duncan's strength, the weapon of his body, is his and Paul is warmed by the truth of that. He wants to go slow, wants to savor this, but when his mouth moves to one of Duncan's broad shoulders to leave a twin mark there with the same biting determination a hunger unfurls in him and Paul realizes that he's been starving all his life.

For this. For Duncan. He groans and moves his mouth to the center of Duncan's chest, then over the swell of one pectoral. Right over his heart while Paul's hands skirt over his side, taking his weight into his knees as he curls over the man, burying his face into the sweet taste of Duncan's skin. This is his. "Always." He leaves another mark.

[feline_grace]

For Duncan loyalty and love were always intertwined. It was the Atreides way. They earned the loyalty of their men by showing them love. Respect. But his love for Paul always ran deeper, quiet like the deep rivers on Caladan, or the whisper of spice in the air on Arrakis. It had been forced into quiet, a love he could never have acted on or given voice to until now.

He will always belong to Paul.
He will always love Paul.

Each sharp sting of teeth is soothed with lips and tongue and Duncan groans at the warmth of it, the quickening hunger as if Paul wishes to consume him, tasting his skin with every pass of his lips.

Roughly he toes off his boots, focusing his hands on the warmth of Paul's skin, hands sliding from his shoulders to his waist, committing every inch of him to his memory.

"Always," he answers, voice rough with want. His fingers tap at Paul's chest again. Blessing.

His blessing, his touchstone, his Paul.

[kwisatzhaderach]

Prescience had made love difficult for Paul. There was something preordained in the way he clung to Chani to teach him the ways of the desert, leaning on her the way he might have leaned on Jamis, and in turn she had chosen to love him. But how much of that was her choice? How much of anything on Arrakis had been anyone's choice?

But on Caladan? Paul knew he'd been loved. Not because of who his mother had engineered him to be but because of who his father and masters had taught him to become. Before destiny had been a threat, it had been a promise cast in the image of ocean waters and tall castles and a rank of men he could trust with his life. Before his visions turned to Arrakis, Paul had always thought his future lay with Duncan and the rest of House Atreides.

Duncan whose council had always been sound. Duncan whose laughter could always inspire the same from Paul. Duncan who had haunted his dreams long before anyone else, making their time together precious for how ominously finite it would feel every time he woke with Duncan's death hanging at the edges of his awareness. Duncan who feels very much alive beneath him now.

Even in this there is an element of play familiar to their rapport. Paul grins against Duncan's chest as he feels the man arch and twist to kick off his boots, every effort felt as his hands chart the length of his swordmaster's sides, pinning his hips down to settle him with his slighter weight. He wants to consume Duncan, to swallow him whole like a sandworm beneath the dunes, but there is something powerful in the way he can explore this man, learning what takes him apart so that Paul can be entrusted with putting him back together again.

It's a blessing to know each other like this and so Paul covers the hand on his chest with one of his own, squeezing it before bringing it to his lips. "Up," he encourages, teasing the heel of Duncan's palm so he can urge the larger body beneath his own to shift higher up onto the bed. He wants more room to work his way down it and once Duncan complies, Paul brings his hands to the waistband of the trousers currently in his way.

"You'll be the only man I've ever known," he murmurs as he bends to kiss Duncan's stomach, fingers deftly working at button and zipper alike. "The only one I've ever tasted." His mouth skims lower, exhilaration making him run hotter than an Arrakeen rooftop, as Paul shifts his own body down the length of Duncan's so his mouth can seek out the shape of him through his pants. "The only one I'll ever have in my bed."

When Paul finally has Duncan's pants open, he looks up at him through a curtain of curls to lock their gazes. "You were always meant to be mine," he tells him just before freeing Duncan's cock. "This was always meant to be mine," are Paul's last words before he closes his eyes and wraps his lips around the head of Duncan to seal it in the hot sheath of his mouth; taking his first intimate taste and moaning with the knowledge that it won't be the last. They'll have this forever and Paul is eager to move them through infinity together as he starts to take Duncan deeper.

[feline_grace]

The day he had been introduced to a young Paul Atreides was the day Duncan’s world changed forever. He had been proud that his Duke would trust him with Paul’s education but there had been so much more to it. He had no peers, no others his own age, only a life of duty and lessons upon lessons. It had been an unspoken agreement between himself and Gurney that they would never see Paul buckle beneath that weight. When it became too much, when he seemed quiet and withdrawn because his dreams were becoming too much, they would sneak him into the barracks with the rest of the men who would welcome him with easy affection and smiles. They loved their young master and he gave that love back to them freely. There were songs accompanied by Gurney’s baliset and shared laughter between men.

Duke Leto had only caught them once, admonishing Duncan later with a ghost of a smile that he expected his swordmaster to be stealthier in the future.

Embraces were freely given where Paul was concerned, and Duncan etched every one of them into his memory. The joyful smile, the way Paul called his name before launching himself into his arms.

Somewhere along the way, easy affection began to burn brighter, deeper and more certain. He could never truly have Paul, but he could love him all the same.

And then they found one another in this realm beyond death with nothing to hold them back. Paul’s words feel like a promise, like certainty and as he did in life, Duncan offers up everything that he is for those words. For Paul.
He was always meant to be his.

His skin is overheated, burning with want as layers are stripped away. Duncan rumbles out a laugh as Paul directs him, smiling as he obeys. Muscles tense as Paul presses vows into his skin, promises that he will always belong to him. Duncan holds himself steady and still as Paul wraps a sure hand around him.

Softly he brushes a hand through his hair, looking down the length of his body at Paul. His Paul.

Duncan fights to keep his hips still, to yield and to allow Paul to take what he needs from him. He has always considered himself a vocal lover, generous with his affections and responses and now is no exception.

[kwisatzhaderach]

Love hasn't been this easy since Caladan. Paul recognizes this for what it is. What they haven't yet called it aloud but both know to be true. He's known it his whole life. In the way he could throw himself at Duncan and be caught full force. How there was never a single secret he felt he couldn't share.

Duncan isn't the only one whom the Duke had spoken with about discretion. Paul's conversation had been less teasing, however. His had been solemn and sympathetic. A reminder that duty would eventually come calling and that to distract anyone else's from their own was a selfish quality the Atreides could not indulge. Love them, Paul, his father had said of their men, doing Paul the courtesy of not naming the object of his moon-eyed stares while setting a gentle hand atop his own. But don't fall in love with them.

He had failed that lesson spectacularly and though he'd done his duty by keeping such feelings to himself in life, in death he refuses to be bound by such propriety. Here, he wants only to give Duncan every kindness, every affection, and every pleasure. Paul's mouth hungers for it, pulling Duncan deeper down the back of his throat without any sense of skill or artistry. Need drives him while instinct guides his hands. Keeping hold of Duncan at the base so Paul can swallow as much of him as he can.

When his throat resists and he chokes, Paul pulls off coughing and laughing. The mess of his inexperience is arousing in its own right. Something new after a lifetime of having all his future experiences laid out before him. His best surprises were apparently awaiting him here, beyond the reach of other memory and the Bene Gesserit. "We could never have done this before now," Paul rasps, voice already rough from desire and the way he'd tried to swallow Duncan whole.

He grins up from beneath the length of him, wolfish with satisfaction, as he presses his lips to the underside of Duncan's length, murmuring against it to heighten the way he teases, "Your noises would have given us away." He loves them though and it's obvious in the way Paul goes right back to sucking Duncan back into his mouth, hungry for the feel of Duncan's hands in his hair and his vocal appreciation rumbling in the room.

[feline_grace]

As Paul pulls off with a cough, Duncan's chuckle mirrors his own. His hand settles in his hair, eyes fond and warm with affection and a love he hasn't yet given voice to. Sex has always been something he'd enjoyed, laughter and passion between men or women and to share it with Paul makes it even more precious.

"Aye," he laughs quietly, thumb brushing along Paul's cheek. "I'd have been more than court marshaled by now." The muscles of his thighs twitch as Paul leans in again. "But it would have been worth it."

Duncan drops his head back to the pillow with a chuckle, "Subtle in combat, m'lord. Not in bed." Not with him. Not with Paul warm and hungry over him and ready to ask more of him. Because he would give Paul anything. Everything.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The blush in his cheeks is something Paul only becomes aware of when Duncan brushes his touch over them. His skin feels hot and tight, vibrating with an energy that comes from this new and heady exploration of Duncan's body. It's not his desire to key them both up, wanting only to treat Duncan to the kind of boneless rest that comes after orgasm, but it's hard not to readily delight in all that's being offered to him.

He's fighting back a grin when he wraps his lips back around him. The joy is as infectious as the arousal and while he tamps down one by filling his mouth with the shape of Duncan's need, Paul works to settle the other by dropping a hand between his thighs to palm himself through his pants.

There's no doubt in his mind they'll do everything together, finding all the ways in which their bodies can become one and exacting pleasure even when they're separated, but Paul wants this first. To bring Duncan over the edge. Dauntless in his pursuit, he uses his fist to pump everything he can't yet fit into his mouth. And frankly, there's a lot. He'd never expected less from Duncan but the reality of it is dizzying. An intoxicating challenge he'll embark on one day.

For now, Paul takes his cues from Duncan's noises. Going back to the things that make the man groan, teasing with his tongue when he can elicit a string of curses, and tormenting him with the heat of his mouth around his balls when his jaw needs a break. By the time he has him in his mouth next, he can taste the effect he's having on him and it makes Paul's own need pulse just as fervently against the heel of his hand, an ache that might as well be a warning for how close he is just from the simple pleasure that comes from finally getting to undo his swordmaster.

[feline_grace]

Duncan's world narrows down to the warm slide of Paul's mouth, his hands, his touch. Pleasure pools hot and molten low in his belly as his hands reach to touch any part of Paul that he can as he does his level best to drive him over the edge.

His breath comes quicker, short panted groans as he nears his peak. It will be over far too soon, but there will be other moments like this, tangling their bodies together in passion and in heat.

The thought of those future moments is enough for Duncan to bleat out a warning as his orgasm washes over him in a series of jarring waves.

As the aftershocks subside, Duncan reaches down to draw Paul into his arms, to hold him close, to kiss him. His Paul. His lord and his love.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The intricacies of their intimacy is one Paul undertakes with a ready enthusiasm. Learning the ways he can undo Duncan will come with time but for now the thrill of his first time with him is enough to buoy Paul's own pleasure. There's an undeniable allure to unraveling the man. To the sounds that Duncan makes and the threadbare composure that holds him together until the very end when he gives himself up to the feeling of Paul's mouth with a shout.

All he can taste is Duncan. It's new and sudden and not entirely natural to him but Paul's greed is overshadowed by his inexperience and so he swallows everything until the final twitch of Duncan's orgasm has him softening in the heat of his mouth. The rush of it is like a high he's never known. An exhilaration no sandworm ride can compete with. He's all too happy to climb back up Duncan's larger body, letting those needy hands draw him in, to meet the mouth he can never get enough of.

The taste is shared between them. A tongue that licks into Duncan's mouth, proof of his own devotion still on his taste buds, before he draws back enough to pant, grinning with triumph and affection even though he's still hard in his own trousers. "Would it have been worth the court marshaling?" he teases with a grin, deliriously happy and nuzzling into Duncan's throat.

Paul's kisses soften, dotting along Duncan's jawline then his cheek as he stays there half curled atop the man's bigger body. It's enough to bask in the afterglow even with his own need still trapped between them.

[feline_grace]

If Duncan were asked, he'd be hard pressed to remember the last time he'd been intimate with anyone. There may have been passing flings in the barracks or in the city nearest the Atreides keep, but those were quick and brief in nature. None of them compared to the heat, the intensity of what he had shared with Paul.

He meets his kiss with a quiet, pleased sound. Tasting himself on Paul's tongue was an unexpected pleasure and one that he chased eagerly.

"Aye, more than worth the court martial," he affirms, smoothing a hand down his back. A grin quirks his lips. "Perhaps a second if you'd have me help you now."

[kwisatzhaderach]

All of Duncan's ready enthusiasm is chased with Paul's own; a twin hunger that he knows will never be satiated but that's part of the thrill. There's a safety in the pleasure because Paul knows there are no stakes to it. Nothing hangs in the balance of their intimacy because it's theirs to make of it what they will and so far it's colored in laughter and joy and the effortless way they both keep coming back to each other's mouths.

It's the best Paul has ever had and he feels anticipation throb between his legs in a telling beat as Duncan offers himself. "Surely no one can fault you for just trying to help," Paul reasons with a wolfish grin, delighted in the play that still exists between them and how easy Duncan makes it to indulge.

[feline_grace]

There is a heady sort of freedom in this life beyond. They can take and offer up whatever liberties and intimacies they wish from one another. No consequences, no rules. Only love mingled with laughter.

Duncan nips at his lower lip, basking in that sharp grin as his hands find Paul's body and keep him close. Fingers help rid him of his clothing, lips reverently brushing over every newly exposed inch of skin. "Then allow me to help you, my lord, my love."

His heavy hand presses against the firm outline of Paul's arousal.

[kwisatzhaderach]

Something wistful leaves Paul's lungs at the sentiment. Relief and reverence both braided together as Duncan whispers his affections against his skin. Exaltation in the way he arches into the touch of those lips whenever they chart whatever new stretch of skin has been exposed.

But then Duncan's hand is pressed against him and Paul's breath trembles out of him. A gasp that comes from finally being touched by hands he'd only ever been able to fantasize about. "Duncan."

The shape of him is hard and eager. A ready outline of the desire he's felt all his life. He drags in another breath, this time one that's edged in tight laughter as he arches into the weight and sifts his fingers through Duncan's hair.

"I used to dream about this," he confesses while the mood is still light, smile lingering in the corner of his mouth. "Not knowing if it was a vision or a wish." Paul steels himself with a bracing breath before giving himself over to the shiver of pleasure and the knowledge now that it had perhaps been a bit of both.

[feline_grace]

The way Paul gasps out his name will live in his memory forever. Hunger and want and years of quietly hidden desires finally spilling out of both of them.

From his exploration of Paul's stomach, Duncan looks up with a quirked smile, fingers just tracing the outline of him. Lips and teeth scrape lightly across the shell of his hip as he tugs his pants down to free his cock. "Then we should make them both reality, m'lord."

And with careful fingers, Duncan catches him in his hand and draws him into his mouth.

[kwisatzhaderach]

Anticipation makes Paul's breath come in quicker as he tilts his head down to watch Duncan descend upon his body. All that hair tickling at his skin like a delicious aftershock to the way Duncan's lips make him shiver. That smile is wicked and Paul's own quirks to meet it, breathless in his desire and the beautiful contrast of their bodies as they're revealed to each other.

He has no words for what comes next. Not just being exposed to Duncan for the first time and how his cock twitches with ready enthusiasm, but for the blissful finality of finally knowing what the heat of Duncan's mouth feels like after a lifetime of longing. Paul's head falls back and his body flexes with barely restrained desire to chase more of that heat as a moan carves itself free from the center of his chest.

Duncan's name is a litany on his lips. Prayer and caution. He's already achingly hard from having him down his own throat earlier and from chasing the arousal that had been lit inside of him after their first kiss. To have this too? Paul feels himself falling apart from the thrill of it and uses his grip in Duncan's hair just to keep himself together long enough to properly enjoy the gift of Duncan's mouth.

[feline_grace]

The sound of Paul moaning his name is enough to make his own body twitch again in hopeful anticipation. He reaches to encourage his fingers in his hair, gripping him firmly as he basks in finally being able to show Paul how much he needs him, how those years of hidden want can finally break free.

But for all the time he spent aching for Paul, Duncan never sought out a man with similar build. He did not want lies. If he could not have his Paul, he would have no substitute.

Duncan teases him with his tongue, applying every skill he's learned to bring Paul to a similar crest of pleasure.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The voracious desire Duncan has for him is felt in every lash of that too-clever tongue and the heat of his wicked mouth. It's unlike anything Paul has experienced, too in his own head and wrapped up by prescience to ever fully appreciate anything he and Chani did as something more than destined, but this feels fated in a way that doesn't hang on him like a threat. It's a gift. A blessing.

Paul unfurls into it like a Caladan flower after the rain, opening to the sensations that lick heat up his spine and make his breathing go ragged. He gasps, a stammered and unexpected noise of pleasure breaking out of him like waves on a rock. "Duncan, that–" feels incredible. Praise warps itself past coherency, giving over to blind desire as Paul moans.

His thighs tremble as he feels every part of him beginning to tighten, a bow drawn taut, and then in the molten hot furnace of Duncan's mouth, Paul's grip falters and he looses the arrow of control he'd been holding back. He comes with his fingers tight in Duncan's hair and Duncan's name a hitched gasp in his chest, burying himself unintentionally down the length of Duncan's throat in a mad rush of need, wanting to bury all of his spent devotion as deep as he can into this man he wants to simultaneously worship and ruin so as to build him back up with the altar of his affections.

As he comes back to himself in the aftermath, Paul's laughter is a wreck in his throat, more groan than chuckle, while he carefully unlatches himself from Duncan to pet through his hair instead. Part apology, part praise. On his next breathy laugh, Paul says, "I have so much to learn." And who better to take up such instruction than the swordmaster he's longed for.

[feline_grace]

Careful hands stroke in slow paths along his skin, guiding Paul back to him as his breathing starts to slow. Duncan places a reverent kiss at his knee, his hip, over his heart, lingering at the side of his throat, chuckling quietly. "And I have always loved teaching you."

The blanket on the bed is serviceable, and Duncan tugs it up over their twined bodies, another small measure of comfort in this new life beyond.

Fingers toy gently with his curls, his lips pressed to Paul's temple, Duncan is content. "I would dream of what it would be like to hold you like this," he confesses, voice soft.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The trembling aftermath is a release of a different kind. Tension from carrying himself through a lifetime of prophecy and finally feeling the last of its strings cut from him leaves Paul grateful for the grounding touches. Strong hands, a gentle mouth, and arms that have always been the most reliable shield the Atreides could ask for. He coils instinctively into Duncan as the blanket is drawn over them, one long leg catching across Duncan's hip to better braid their bodies together.

Every tender caress pulls Paul closer, until his face is tucked into the safety of Duncan's throat where he can bring the smell of him into his lungs. These quiet confessions make him ache for a past that could never have been but that they'd both longed for so desperately. "Sometimes, after waking from a nightmare, I'd slip out to sit in front of your quarters." A gamble to be sure. Thufir and Dr. Yueh were the only ones who slept in the castle with any regularity, but to catch Gurney or Duncan inside was hardly guaranteed.

Paul's fingers tour the length of Duncan's arm, trailing from shoulder to wrist where it wraps around him before bringing his hand between their bodies so he can turn his face down into it. "I would tell myself each time that tonight would be the night I asked to come in and that if you let me, I'd ask you to take me away." From Caladan. From the looming threat of Arrakis. From the visions that have felt like a trap since they started.

His breath comes out ragged, a sigh of possibility before he kisses Duncan's knuckles. "And then I would remember the kanly and our responsibilities and go back to my room, wishing I was with you wherever you were."

[feline_grace]

The confession is a mournful one, for as much as they quietly loved one another, they were bound to their duties. To their House. Duncan softly sweeps a thumb across the curve of his cheek. "It was impossible then."

He lifts Paul's hand to settle it over his heart, tapping twice before covering it with his own larger hand. "You were always with me, no matter where I was sent."

A quiet hum as he considers. "We can do anything we want now. We're free." A smile colors his voice as he kisses Paul's hair. "No obligations, no duties."

"As long as we're together, I am content."

[kwisatzhaderach]

The knowledge is comforting. To know he wasn't alone in the way he longed for the impossible. The affection turns the curve of his mouth into a smile and as he's reminded of their blessing, his hand flattens to better seal itself over Duncan's heart.

"Free," Paul echoes wistfully. A concept he's not known since childhood. Before his dreams were revealed to be visions, harrowing and inescapable. He never thought he'd be lucky enough to live a life outside of prophecy and now that it's before him, he only wants to spend it with Duncan.

"Then we will always be together," Paul vows, his face turning up to kiss Duncan with a liberty that still feels thrilling and forbidden even though they've neither duty nor decorum to abide by.

Settling in closer, his leg anchoring Duncan to his body, Paul's fingers rub small circles into Duncan's flesh as he ponders aloud, "How much of this vessel have you explored?" The fear of old grudges and fallen foes briefly makes his body coil with apprehension, but Paul staves it off with a deep breath, choosing to luxuriate in the safety they presently exist instead of worrying about threats that might never come.

[feline_grace]

Always. The word rings true in his thoughts as he shifts to wrap Paul in his arms and to keep him close. At the question he exhales slowly, "It feels infinite. I have only ever moved in one direction." His lip curls faintly. "I left many Harkonnen behind."

At the frisson of tension he firms his hold, as if he could shield Paul from everything from their small bed.

"We should escape this place. Find our own way." They're free to make their own path now.

[kwisatzhaderach]

The mention of Harkonnen only draws Paul tighter. A python coil that wants to choke that part of him out of existence. That wishes he could forget what other-memory had revealed to him while alive. He can see the clear delineation between who he was before the Spice Agony and who he had become. He knows, with a certainty that comes from enduring prophecy, that he is currently the part of himself that died while undergoing the transition.

Before Duncan, he had been walking these halls wearing the skin of the creature that had killed him. An other self. And while the tyranny and war he spread throughout the Imperium is one he can lay at the feet of Prophecy, Paul cannot excise himself from the genes that make up half his nature even if it was nurture that had honed him into the gentle spirit wrapped up in Duncan's arms.

He wants to leave with him. He wants to go anywhere with him. But would Duncan still love him knowing what he is? Paul shifts, rolling on top of him to better look down at his swordmaster. The shadow of darkness that had haunted the doorway of his thoughts lingers behind Paul's gaze again, even though his touches to Duncan's hair and cheek are tender.

He wants to tell him. Aches to tell him. But this thing between them is so precious and sacred that Paul does not want to risk its end when they are still at the beginning. He knows the honor of the Atreides blood in his veins is stronger than the Harkonnen ambition he was cursed with purely because when he looks down at Duncan, he wants to give him everything. Including the ugly truth of what he is.

For now, he tempers it by smiling and teasing Duncan, "All this time here and now you want to leave? Are you sure you weren't just waiting for a willing cohort to help you escape?" He knows that's not the case, but Paul still taps Duncan's nose, a playful bid for levity against the current of dread slowly rising in him as he staves off the confession he knows must one day be aired between them.

[feline_grace]

Duncan may not be as skilled as the Bene Gesserit at reading micro expressions and emotional tells, but a swordmaster has to be observant, to catalog every moment and physical tell. He allows Paul to shift over him, hands holding him close.

Something is wrong. Something is troubling Paul and every instinct roars up from deep within his chest. Protect. Defend.

He smiles at the touch, craning his neck up to kiss him. "Was I not clear? I was waiting for you, m'lord. I couldn't move beyond without you."

[kwisatzhaderach]

"Ah, yes, the most willing cohort you know," he continues to tease, meeting Duncan's smile with his own and following it with another kiss. He considers him then, all bronze muscle and a halo of dark hair. Paul aches with how much he loves him. How much he would have given to have had this while he'd been alive. Another path. A choice.

"I would go anywhere with you. I could be anywhere with you and be content." Paul's fingers brush a few strands of hair back and out of Duncan's face, following the length of them down and bringing the ends up to brush across his lips, feeling the feather light touch of them. He would have given anything to have kept some part of Duncan after he'd sacrificed himself. To have him here, whole, and warm is a blessing.

Paul bows his head and kisses the center of Duncan's chest. "I don't want to lose you again," he whispers with the edges of fear in his voice. There's so many variables and he doesn't have the gift of prescience here to help him find his way. He sinks back down, lowering his body to lay across Duncan with his ear pressed to his chest, listening for a heartbeat. "How can we leave this place and know there's anything beyond it? That we won't be separated once we finally find a way off?" Will Duncan even want to get off with him once he knows the truth of what he is?