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."

Comments

[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?

[feline_grace]

Duncan rests a hand at Paul's waist, another sifting gently through his curls as he hovers over him. His fair skin is luminous in the half-light and he smooths a hand down his arm and across his back. "I'm here, m'lord. I won't fail you."

A heavy hand strokes through his hair at Paul's gentle kiss. "You won't. I've heard rumors on the transport, a way to bind us together. Forever."

His voice is gentle as he kisses his hair. "I'm here, Paul. I will always be here." Whatever he fears, Duncan will shield him from.

[kwisatzhaderach]

Together. Forever. Paul has no idea what that means for the part of himself enshrined in other-memory or the gholas who will bear Duncan's likeness in the future, but he knows that the thought of binding himself to Duncan is one that makes him feel whole. The eternal promise that comes with never again being apart or having the other violently ripped away gives hope to the possibility of whatever lies beyond the vessel's limits.

But to embark on such a ritual without Duncan knowing the full extent of who it is he'd be tethered to? Paul shifts once more so he can look at Duncan, wanting to savor these moments of gentility and tenderness. "You are truly the best of us, Duncan," he says in a whisper, as if afraid to disturb the moment they're sharing. "And it would be my life and death's greatest honor to bind myself to you."

Once more his fingers trail Duncan's face, curving the length of that strong jaw before cupping his cheek. "You, Duncan, who are more noble than any of the Great Houses. Whose loyalty and strength are beyond question. Whose fealty is absolute. All that I know of compassion and duty, I have learned from you. My father was right to have chosen you and whatever Duke I might have become, I would have been a great one for having you at my side."

He can see it so clearly. The other life they might have led had his mother not been more in love with her ego than his father. "But you deserve the chance to choose too and it is honor and an abundance of love that compels me to ask despite my fears: Will you still choose me once you learn all that I am?"

Not what he'd done. No, Paul has made some small measure of peace with the life he was forced to lead while enslaved to Prophecy, but who he'd been born as? Even if they had lived that other life, half of him would still be Harkonnen even if he might never have known it. But if he had known? The way that he knows now? He does not know if Duncan could abide that. Or if he even wants to know. Paul himself would rather forget and wishes it wasn't one of the last truths he'd uncovered before the death of his true self during the Spice Agony but he never got the chance to turn away from it. He owes Duncan the courtesy of that choice. To look away if he wants. To see only the face that looks down upon him and not the bloodlines that make him up.

[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.