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Weird, Amir thought, his gaze fixed on Arthur as he adjusted the straps of his tactical gear for the fifth time in as many minutes. Amir's predisposition to having his already limited filters fail him was, expectedly, reasonably quick to rear it's head
“Are you fidgeting?” he blurted. It wasn’t a question, not really. It was a statement disguised as one, a rhetorical inquiry designed to elicit… well, Amir wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to elicit. Probably an explanation. Arthur, however, operated on a relatively strict “bullshit threshold” which, on a good day, was low. Today, Amir suspected, it was subterranean. This was likely one of the two, maybe three questions Arthur would tolerate. Any infraction, perceived or otherwise, could put him in the doghouse. Again– the doghouse being, Arthur not ignoring him, but failing to humor him, which was almost worse.
Arthur paused, a single, withering glance in Amir’s direction. “No,” he replied curtly, the single syllable dripping with sarcasm. “I am not.”
“Listen, Boss–” Amir began, a wry chuckle escaping him as he raised his hands in mock surrender. “You’re talking to someone with a master’s degree in can’t-stay-still-er- ness. You’re totally fidgeting. You’ve been at it for, like, five minutes?”
“Have I?” Arthur sounded unconvinced, not of the fidgeting itself, but of the sheer audacity of Amir pointing it out. “Well then. Since you’re so observant, why bother asking?”
“I… conversation starter?” Amir offered lamely, wincing internally.
“What is there to discuss? Not sure what’s so compelling about this.”
“Because it’s weird. You’re being weird! And even moodier than usual–” Amir snorted, realizing mid-sentence that he was, yet again, sticking his foot firmly in his mouth.
Arthur’s lips pressed into a thin line. Before Amir could apologize, or Arthur could unleash a scathing retort, he looked away, his jaw clenching visibly.
“Uh… that was. Sorry. I’m sorry,” Amir stammered, his own expression falling as Arthur slowly shook his head, closing his eyes.
“You’re right,” Arthur admitted, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m feeling pretty shit right now. Might be best not to talk to me for a bit.”
“Arthurrrr…” Amir whined. “Hey. C’mon. That’s not fair. Don’t shut me out! I know I’m pretty much useless when it comes to the serious stuff–” He offered a weak laugh. “But I can listen! I’m a really good listener. You know that!” A pause, less certain. “…Right? You do know that.” The words sounded more like a question directed at himself.
Arthur sighed, his gaze drifting downwards, focusing on the handle of his sword.
“I know,” he replied with a nod. “I just… Dammit.”
Amir worried his lip, shifting closer and bumping shoulders with Arthur in a silent offer of support.
Arthur's lips pulled into a thin line, “There’s… there’s this date. Eleanor and I… we… commemorate it, every year. Every year.” Arthur picked up his sword, his thumb tracing the worn fabric of the wrapped handle. “Didn’t this year. She didn’t even mention it, and I know she didn’t forget… So I guess I feel at odds.”
A sudden, almost overwhelming urge to touch him washed over Amir. He gave in to it, lacing their fingers together. He was rewarded with a half-hearted squeeze. There was more to the story, Amir knew, but he didn’t need the details. He understood the gist. It was important to Arthur.
It brought into sharp relief the vast differences in their backgrounds, the different lives they’d led… only to end up here, together. Funny how things worked out. Amir had gone from never knowing loss to… well, losing everything. Everything he’d strived for, everything he’d cared about.
He glanced sideways at Arthur, squeezing his hand gently. It wasn’t to say he hadn’t gained anything in return.
“I’m guessing talking about it is off the table. At least for now,” Amir ventured, his tone light, but lacking its usual playful lilt. “You said you feel at odds. So… part of you thinks it’s a good thing?”
“Bollocks,” Arthur cursed, sounding defeated. “I… yeah. Suppose I do. And I feel like total shit because of it.”
Amir released his hand, instead carefully wrapping an arm around Arthur’s waist, pulling him closer. Arthur leaned into him, sighing wearily. He gave a quiet, amused huff as Amir tilted their heads together, closing his eyes.
“Thank you,” Arthur murmured, a small, almost hesitant smile touching his lips as Amir reached for his opposite hand and pressed a loud kiss to his knuckles.
Seeing Arthur so vulnerable was still… jarring. Amir knew it was a hard-won vulnerability, earned through persistence, through a constant push and pull. He’d clawed and dug until he’d carved out a small space in Arthur’s armored heart, and– after much tension and unnecessarily complicated dances– had finally occupied it.
The smile was an improvement, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Come oooon… give us a smile–”
Arthur gave him a look. “Okay, okay, no smile! That’s fine. Now… what can we do to make Arthur feel better…”
Beside him, Arthur huffed—another amused sound, another point on Amir’s internal scoreboard.
“Well. When Amir is upset, you like to say–” Amir began, trailing off pointedly before loudly clearing his throat.
“Amir? Get some rest. World won't stop turning if you sit down for a while,” Amir lowered his voice, a vague impression of a British accent lilting his words, imitating what Arthur could only imagine was his own voice.
“There it is!” Amir exclaimed with a triumphant laugh. “There's my favorite smile! You know, you really should smile more. You have a nice smile–and it's good for the soul–”
“Not smiling,” Arthur mumbled, turning his face away, chewing the inside of his cheek.
“Right. Of course not. Buuut–do you at least agree with past-Arthur's words of wisdom?” Amir leaned in, one dark eyebrow arched as he stage-whispered, “Because I won't tell him if you don't.”
“Rest?” Arthur sighed, slowly pulling away. “Although I have it on good authority that past- Arthur would also agree that settling this over a bottle would do quite nicely… I suppose a little rest won’t hurt. Join if you'd like."
“Do you really need to ask?” Amir grinned.
The mood had shifted, but the improvement was fleeting. It was achingly apparent as they settled beside each other on the sofa. Arthur's posture was stiff, his gaze distant as he stared at some ambiguous point in the room. The anniversary, the underlying discomfort, the lingering pain… it was all still there, a palpable weight between them.
Amir wanted to do something. Surely he could alleviate some of the burden. His specialty was distraction, after all. But he also knew that overstepping, disrespecting Arthur’s memories, was a very real possibility. There was a time and place for jokes, and this wasn’t it. Arthur clearly didn’t want to talk about it. Not right now, anyway.
But Amir shared something with him that the others in the Hex didn’t in the same capacity: closeness. Affection. Love.
Arthur cast him a sidelong glance as Amir sidled closer on the sofa, perching his cheek on Arthur’s shoulder and reaching for his hand. Gently, Amir pried Arthur’s hand from the hilt of his Skana, cradling it in his own, tracing the lines and ridges with his fingertip. Arthur visibly deflated beside him, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders. He wasn’t blind to Amir’s intentions: comfort, offered without expectation. Content with mere presence.
Arthur felt… lucky. In this moment, he wasn’t just Arthur the military man, the hero, the stupid, pining brother. He was simply Arthur. No titles, no pretense. Just a man who’d been in the wrong place at the right time, managing to save someone who’d suffered a similar fate, albeit through less consensual means. At least it had only cost him half his eyesight and a gnarly scar.
Arthur turned his hand over in Amir’s, clasping their fingers together. A small smile touched his lips, mirrored by a secretive grin from Amir. He watched as Amir’s fingers danced up his forearm, loosely wrapping around his elbow and pulling him closer. Arthur readily complied, allowing himself to be drawn in. His eyelids fluttered shut as Amir leaned in for a kiss, the angle a little awkward, the embrace a little clumsy, but… it was needed. The imperfections were easily remedied with a slight shift, a readjustment. They exchanged slow, lazy kisses on the sofa, until Amir, cautiously at first, then with increasing confidence, urged him to lie down, positioning himself between Arthur’s splayed thighs.
All things considered, it hadn't taken Amir too terribly long to grow accustomed to being open and forward about his wants and desires– once he'd surmounted that hurdle, it had become so, so easy with Arthur. The transparency, the forthrightness– there had been some inhibitions he'd needed to shed first, and there were still some that remained, even now…
But Amir had always been a little too flirty for his own good.
The difference was just that now he meant it.
In contrast, Arthur was… A little more difficult. He'd come around, too, but he still got a little embarrassed at times, when he felt he'd been too forward. As if Arthur being too forward about sex wasn't a one way ticket to making Amir extremely, painfully hard.
There were still some things that needed to be ironed out, still territory within their trajectory left unexplored. But Amir was nothing if not persistent.
Plus, he liked seeing what he could all get away with before receiving push-back. Those boundaries were important to him, considering his tendency to get carried away whenever it came to anything that elicited particularly strong feelings.
Typically, Amir was more than happy to let Arthur take the lead… But the fact that he was in dire need of a suitable distraction was very apparent.
Plus… Wouldn't this be nice? Arthur spent nearly every waking hour of the day leading The Hex. Always on. Always listening. Micromanaging. Challenging that Vik– whoever that weird Scaldra guy who happened to be a huge dick, was. And… whatever else he did. Amir had never really concerned himself with the technicalities; maybe therein laid part of the problem? Could he be doing more to help?
No, Amir decided. They all had their part to play, and Amir's was no less important than the rest of theirs– enough that he'd even learned Lettie’s praise, if indirectly. It had taken him more than long enough, with no shortage of Aoi’s encouragement, for him to accept that, and he wouldn’t undermine his own progress now.
But here it was… Different. Here he could do something, and maybe– maybe– if Amir tried hard enough, Arthur could let the world support its own weight for a little while.
Climbing on top of Arthur left precious little space for his intentions to be misinterpreted. It was the first time Arthur had actually looked at him, today– already a strong start, even with his furrowed eyebrows. Amir had decided to let his actions do the talking, and pressing his lips against Arthur's was a much stronger conversation opener, this time around.
Hands settled around his waist, a squeeze that somewhat lacked the efficacy it might have had without… Whatever it was that they were composed of and wore, now, but still translated tactilely. A lot of what they experienced now largely involved the intention behind the action, rather than solely the action itself.
Amir hummed, fully settling his weight on top of Arthur, earning him a quiet groan. He knew Arthur liked this– Amir’s weight pressing him down.
A comfortable pressure and buzzing warmth. Body powered by a still-organic engine, purring loudly in his chest, vibration resonating into Arthur's breastplate. This, he could feel.
One hand found the side of Arthur's face, gently cupping it, thumb stroking over his scarred cheekbone as their lips moved together in a familiar rhythm. Arthur’s responsiveness emboldened both his resolve and actions alike, opposite hand migrating downwards, forgoing the usual, tempered dance.
Pressure against the innermost part of Arthur’s thigh. Amir's hand gripping the firm, smooth chitinous jacketing; offering just the slightest amount of give, enough for Amir to see the way his fingers left small, temporary indentations. He squeezed, feeling rather than hearing Arthur's breath hitch against his lips.
Amir had taken to learning Arthur the same way he dissected and deciphered code. Parsing and troubleshooting bugs and deploying necessary fixes or alterations, testing the adjustments he had attempted. Getting confused when they didn't work, but determined to make them. Being even more confused when they did work, where he then had to ask; why is this working?
Where Arthur remained somewhat ambivalent towards the non-utilitarian aspects of their Protoframe bodies, the same couldn't be said for Amir; It all excited him, and he endeavored to excite Arthur in the same capacity, albeit with different means.
The softer portions of what could only be described as his exoskeleton, were slightly more sensitive to touch. Largely temperature and pain, but if he squeezed hard enough, a different kind of response could be provoked.
Fortunately, his newfound grip-strength left him well equipped for matching or handling Arthur in most fields.
Clawed fingers pressed in and clung, dragging along the length. Not unlike muscle, just tougher. Like it was protected by a thick hide. Arthur groaned quietly into the kiss, his arms coming up to wrap around the back of Amir's neck as he spread his legs a touch further; he was really racking up those victories, now.
Amir couldn't say it was in his nature to be rough, exactly, but… He'd be hard pressed not to acknowledge his own predisposition to being a bit of a freak when it came to sex. Inexperience and isolation had not led to Amir's hesitation or caution–rather the opposite– and when Arthur continued to respond positively, he doubled down. Confident in the knowledge that whatever he was doing, he was doing it right.
Quick work was made of the two pins that fastened his codpiece to the bottom of his breastplate, and when Amir reached behind him, he almost eagerly lifted his hips to allow him to continue unimpeded, culet snapping off of its mounting brackets with only some fumbling.
Ideally, teasing him would have been nice– for him, not Arthur. Stimulating him without directly touching him, just to see what would happen, just to see how long it would take for him to lose patience and growl out his demands.
But… There was a time and a place, and Arthur wasn't exactly in a good one. He needed a distraction, and he needed to trust. Amir could stand to bear the weight of that responsibility, at least for a short while.
Plus… This wasn't something Arthur gave lightly. Trust and submission. The fact that he had it now was a kind of almost… paralyzing knowledge that might have otherwise made Amir freeze up. Choice paralysis and executive dysfunction forming a lethal combination.
But the need and want to be more, be better, for someone else… Was a highly effective counterspell. At least for a little while.
So, no, it wasn't something Amir would take for granted.
And it wasn't something he could afford to mess up, either.
Metal capped digits traced the junction of his inner thigh and groin– inherently an erogenous zone, even now. Small mercies, he supposed, Arthur's cock stirring against the back of his hand, already half hard. The same dark, chitinous skin as the surrounding area– slightly softer, warmer. Nicer to squeeze, to hold-– gently, because it was still difficult to gauge just how firmly he was gripping things, sometimes. That had always been an issue, even before all of this.
He stroked him slowly, from base to tip, palming his head, a searing heat against his sensitive palm. Arthur groaned into the kiss, which Amir was quick to take advantage of– licking onto his mouth without a semblance of finesse, but with enough passion and enthusiasm to make up for it, considering Arthur didn't really do gentle or nice, regardless.
His opposite hand trailed downwards, too, skirting up his thigh and pressing between his splayed legs, grazing over his perineum, pressing, and–
“Sol’s bleeding– hells A-amir–” Arthur rasped, back arching sharply off of the mattress, a sound dangerously close to a whine escaping him.
“I– uhh…” Amir began, voice quieter and lower than he'd intended, thick with arousal, “Too soon?”
Arthur took a deep breath, “No. Sol, no, you can go on,” He almost sounded like he still had it together, but the faint tremble in his voice betrayed his affectedness.
A fact which Amir relished.
Beneath his dexterous fingers and skilled hands, Arthur came apart wonderfully– the soft, breathy sounds he released equally as novel as they were addictive. A telltale, audible, real indicator that Amir had, in some capacity, succeeded in getting Arthur to forget about… Everything, if only for this short, fleeting moment.
A brief pause, Amir's hand leaving him for mere seconds, the rustle of fabric and a pleased hum. The sound of a tube being uncapped– Arthur's cock throbbed in his hand when Amir’s hand came back down between his legs, thumb massaging circles against his taint as the tips of two now lubricated digits carefully pressed inside the clench of his hole. Tight, so tight and hot around his fingers, but Arthur warmed up quickly, going lax beneath him, too involved in the press of their lips together to delegate much of his focus elsewhere.
In seemingly no time, they were pressed fully inside of him, curling and spreading, motions careful, gentle, mindful of his sharper appendages, as he worked him open. His actions were a near-perfect mimicry of what Arthur had done to him, had taught him– Amir always learned best by both example and positive reinforcement.
It was… strikingly easy, forgoing the performance. Amir wasn't… pretending to be anything. He wasn't pretending to be confident, he wasn't pretending to know what he was doing, or pretending like he really had some form of leverage over Arthur– that… just wouldn't be him.
No, Amir couldn't realistically see himself asserting dominance over him, nor could he be a firm, guiding hand or presence in the way that Arthur had been. Amir was no guardian. He wasn't a hero. But he could be a safety net, lying in wait for whenever Arthur felt the burden of being one was too great.
No. Maybe he couldn't pick him up, not even his Protoframe body could manage that, but he could still hold out a hand and help him to his feet, whenever he was ready to rise to them again.
And boy could he ever love him– he did. So much that it hurt, sometimes. Which… he was reasonably certain was not a good thing, but was it ever a powerful one. It was in love that he'd seen Arthur was having a hard time, and in love that he'd decided he knew exactly what to do to take his mind off of it.
“I… Uh… This feels weird to ask, but… Can you maybe turn ov- woah ! Okay, Okay ,” Amir cleared his throat, watching with raised eyebrows as Arthur flipped over and rose up on his knees without further prompting, front pressed flush against the cushions, cheek resting against his folded forearms.
“Get on with it,” Arthur gruffed, before adding, as an afterthought, voice quiet, “Please.”
He didn't need to be begged… But did it ever feel nice to hear those words from Arthur. If he wasn't careful he could almost get used to this.
To say he could barely get his cock out fast enough would be a gross understatement, fumbling with the pins that held his auxiliary armor in place, cursing inwardly. It only took a matter of seconds, but it felt far too long when he had Arthur on his hands and knees, waiting for him, after he'd asked so nicely.
He groaned quietly as he took himself into his hand, casting a downwards glance– a subconscious action born out of both curiosity and paranoia, what if something had changed further ?-- as he liberally applied more lube. He stood up on one knee behind him, the other planted on the floor, stilling him with a hand on his hip as he carefully pressed inside.
While he had learned well from Arthur’s example, collectedness and sensitivity level were not a learned thing. Amir folded in under ten seconds, whining when the heat of Arthur's body wrapped around him, one hand gripping his hip, the opposite finding his waist as he bowed over him, eyes shut in concentration.
Beneath him, Arthur groaned quietly, cheeks adorned by a healthy flush. The noises Amir was making– short, whiny pants– served to do more for him than the feeling of Amir pressing inside of him itself.
Feeling Amir’s heart pounding harshly enough for it to reverberate against his back, though… That was nice. And when Amir steeled himself enough to start moving… Well, that was nice too.
It was easy to think Amir to be someone rather… unassuming. His presence didn't demand attention– if anything, he didn't like drawing too much serious attention to himself. It was easy to be the jester, easy to laugh and make lighthearted jokes and generally, not be taken too seriously. Arthur knew better, of course, but… Even he found himself underestimating him.
The amount of sheer power he had packed within his short frame betrayed his natural athleticism. Transformed body fine-tuned for stamina and speed, with thick, firm thighs, strong legs and a slender upper body. He looked good, of course he did, but he was built for performance over aesthetics, first and foremost.
Arthur very quickly found his floundering grasp on self-restraint a distant concept, fingers gripping into the fabric, forehead tipped against the cushions as his chest heaved. Amir fucked him properly, gripping onto him just the right side of too harshly, pulling him back into his thrusts as he moved– fast, harsh movements of his hips, the wet slap of chitinous skin against skin slightly muffled, but loud in the silence of their shared space. Disrupted only by the combined sounds of their panting and groans, Amir’s pitiful whimpers that went straight to Arthur's cock, hanging heavy and hard between his spread thighs.
Unbeknownst to him, Amir very quickly succeeded in what he'd initially set out to do– turning Arthur's brain to mush, coherent thought suddenly and effectively evading him as he melted into a puddle beneath him.
Demonstrably, Amir was indeed a fast learner– and rhythm and coordination were something he had in his spades. Arthur had his full attention– mind a mantra of ArthurArthurArthur with a clear, concise objective within both sight and reach.
The arch of Arthur's back and the splay of his thighs had lowered his hips to exactly where Amir needed them. Arthur very quickly found himself helpless against the onslaught, not a single thought or anxiety, troubled or otherwise, plaguing his mind with the press of Amir's long, slender cock nudging past his prostate with each stroke.
It could have been seconds, minutes, or hours where Arthur lay suspended in bliss– it had been so, so long since he'd felt safe enough to confide in anyone in such a way. To know that, whatever happened, no harm would come to him, and he would enjoy it.
And it had taken its toll– pent up and frustrated from years of never being able to just… let go. His entire body shook, trembling beneath Amir as he came apart, length throbbing as come pulsed from the tip and a deep, throaty moan escaped his lips. Amir fucked him through it, pace faltering as Arthur’s inner muscles contracted, almost uncomfortably tight. Enjoyable as it certainly was, it wasn't Amir’s own pleasure he was chasing, he tried to grit his teeth, clenching his eyes shut as he hastily reached down to take Arthur into his fist, stroking him through the remainder of his orgasm as he rode it out.
His resolve was short-lived; he keened, high and long as he shuddered on top of him, following suit in mere moments, orgasm coaxed out of him with the spasmodic tightening of Arthur around his cock, “Oh. Oh– Oh God–” Metallic digits dug into Arthur’s hip harshly enough to smart, the bite of static shock trembling through his flesh as Amir’s thin grasp on self-restraint and composure slipped.
A humbling reminder for Amir, if nothing else; physical enhancements and increased aptitude for stamina and endurance could really only carry him so far without the sexual experience to back it up. The fact that he’d even lasted this long remained a small mercy– carried almost entirely by sheer concentration and dedication to succeed in what he’d set out to do– make Arthur come so hard he stopped thinking and maybe even almost passed out– though the latter endeavor was perhaps a little overambitious.
Limbs weak from the lingering effects of his orgasm, Arthur melted into the cushions of the sofa– dimly aware of the conspicuous stain that was undoubtedly now blooming on the fabric. He grimaced, grunting when Amir pulled out of him before urging him to flip over onto his back to– yeah.
Flop down, a complete dead weight on top of him. Arthur snorted, but draped his arms around his shoulders, hooking a leg around his hip. Endorphins alight, a bone-deep contentedness bled outwards from his chest, numbing his limbs and unburdening his head; a welcome, needed reprieve. Like this, it was almost second nature to squeeze him tightly. Amir grunted quietly, returning the embrace with as much force as he could muster, rubbing his cheek against Arthur’s shoulder.
Amir sighed softly– a light, relieved, and happy sound that earned the smallest of smiles; although not a soul present could attest to the fond expression that might have been found on Arthur’s face.