(no subject)

[amicably_absent]

Glitch wanted to stay in the cabin forever, but Ambrose insisted on heading back, getting home the day before the trial was set to happen. He didn't elaborate on why, though it was fairly apparent that he wanted to attend, especially when he spent an hour the night before it setting out clothes, putting them in orders with numbers to clearly mark how they went on. It was a lot of work and planning.

Ambrose, also unlike Glitch, had no problems using the privilege of an attendant to help get ready. He gets dressed carefully in what is just shy of a dress uniform but speaks with position to anyone entitled to know it. The attendant helps him with his hair, getting the ringlets settled neatly, if not combed down in his usual manner. He thinks Glitch would protest it and, as he has been told, he needs to stop being ashamed of the line of steel in his scalp. A few touches of make up highlight his pale, striking appearance and he asks Wyatt to escort him down to the court house.

Wyatt has to be there anyway, as the first officer on scene with the small delegation of Viewers who will also present evidence through a mirror set up in court just for that, one with a moratanium frame that Ambrose thinks he might've designed.

The case isn't short, but the conclusion is foregone. He himself is unable to sit to testify, no headcase testimony can be taken by the court, but since he can't remember anything anyway, there would be no point in unnecessarily working him up into glitching.

He does that enough as it is. Each bit of testimony sets off glitches and skips, fragments of thought and getting caught in cycles. It's a hard, long few hours as they plow though it all. They plead guilty, but it's before sentencing that the judge asks if anyone has anything to say.

That's when he raises his hand. "I do, Your Honour."

The judge gives him a long look. "While you cannot testify, the court will recognise any additional statements you have to offer, Adviser Ambrose."

He stands up, smoothing down his military style coat with the tiny badges across the breast marking the medals he won't wear in public. "My learned judge, I would ask you to consider clemency in your sentencing of these men."

He takes a breath to give the noise a moment to subside. "I cannot and will not condone the acts of violence that have been committed, against myself and potentially against other individuals who have suffered violation at the hands of the Witch's surgeons. Justice and retribution is the domain of the court and the police, and it is unacceptable to have the public taking vengeance for actions that may - or indeed may not - have been committed. The court has already taken action against violent offenders, their headcasing is - believe me - punishment enough for their actions, leaving them incapable of directed malice of any consistent amount.

"But.

"The commonality of headcasing as political terrorism to silence dissidence and rebellion is not yet commonly seen, understood or recognised. Ignorance, in truth, is the enemy here. These men were wrong, but they acted in fear and ignorance. I personally feel no need to vengeance against these men, I pity them for being so scared during these dark times past that they cannot reach towards the better future we are all striving for. I pity their ignorance in attacking those who present a visible sign of their ongoing imprisonment, for the thoughts they had, the allegiances they held and not for any crime committed. Headcasing for crime is almost unknown now, but for political motivations? That has been far more prevalent in recent times. Punishment should be a learning aid, to educated individuals and society and this case and serve to educate these men, theoir families and society as a whole. Not just of the heinous acts taken against political prisoners such as myself, but a learning experience that the barbaric and harsh times of the Witch are over and we will once again strive towards a benevolent society of correction, not vengeance."

He bows his head. "Thank you." And he sits down, reaching for Wyatt's hand.

Comments

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

He gasps, every move urging him on, heat and pressure building in his lower belly. It feels so strange, to kiss and touch and hold Ambrose like this, and it feels brand new despite the fact he's done the same to this body for nights on end. Perhaps strange isn't the correct term. Perhaps a lack of it is more aptly put. There's a nagging feeling it should feel strange. That it should somehow feel awkward that it isn't Glitch in his arms.

But it doesn't.

It's different, but he never expected it to be any other way. "Ambrose..." he murmurs, letting go of his curls to drag his hands down his back and up again in wide, luxurious sweeps.

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Rocking a bit more on Wyatt, Ambrose tugs his hair from the grip to kiss his lover again, one hand resting on his broad chest to rub slowly over a nipple, circling and then teasing.

"Yes, Wyatt," he asks softly.

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And another thought strikes, one that speaks of playful unfairness, that Ambrose must have more of an inkling than Wyatt does... And just like that, what was just a matter of rolling a name over his tongue becomes a question of sorts, hoarse and slightly breathless though it is.

"Tell me what you like."

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"What I like...?" Ambrose hums, finger circling Wyatt's nipple and then pinching lightly to tug. "I like topping from the bottom. I like wild quickies while half dressed in discreet corners." He smiles slightly. "I like having things to occupy my mouth... I like the feeling of penetration. A lot."

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He swallows thickly, eyes glazing over and face heating up in response to his lover's almost casual detailing of dos, and all air rushes from his lungs at that tug.

He isn't sure what kind of noise it wrenches out of him, but he knows one thing for a fact. "You're in luck," he grinds out. "I like being pushed around."

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"I'd noticed. Just a little," he murmurs with another smile, circling his hips on Wyatt's. "Just lie back, Wyatt, relax for a moment."

He twists his nipple again, sliding down his body to nibble and tug on the other with his mouth.

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He's very willing to relax, to lift his hands to cradle the back of his head and hand over the metaphorical reins to Ambrose, if that's what he wants. And why wouldn't he, when both of them like it?

Pale eyelashes flutter for every sharp pang inflicted on him by deft fingers and moist, hot mouth. It isn't the pain that sends blood rushing to just beneath the surface of his skin. Not pleasure either. It's building sensation, and the context. It feels good just the same; it just doesn't feel good yet. He has an insistent hunch it will. Soon enough.

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It's making his nipples tender and sensitised. So that when Ambrose changes slides, slowly licking and then blowing cool air carefully over the damp skin in a light tease.

His fingers stroke Wyatt's hip.

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Goosebumps rise all over his chest and arms from that little hint of air alone, and he moans deep in his chest.

Yeah. That hunch was dead-on.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

He trails the tip of his tongue in a circle around the aureole and does it again, flicking his nail over the tip of the other one.

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Whether or not it's a violent response Ambrose wants, it's what he gets. Wyatt arches clear off the bundle of duvet and pillows, face twisting and teeth grinding from the sharp, lightning fast current of pleasure.

He sags back, hands holding on to the pillow near his head. "Oh, gods..."

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"That's it," Ambrose purrs. "Don't worry, I've got you, Wyatt." He slides down further, wetly closing his mouth on Wyatt's length, bobbing down and back up just to leave him slick and dripping.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

His legs part to make room, his hips twitch and tremble from being refused to move freely. His breath comes in erratic gulps of air and his head's spinning from the fact that Ambrose's mouth was just on his cock.

He whimpers. "Ambrose. Ambrose."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Shh," Ambrose soothes, coming up with a lick and breath over the other nipple and kissing Wyatt deeply. "I'm going to ride you, Wyatt. I like being on top when there's the luxury of lying down."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

The kiss ends much too quickly, and if there weren't for the words out of Ambrose's mouth, he'd cling to it like a dying man to the breath of life. "Yes," he groans. "Yes. Ride me."

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"Cheeky, don't go making demands," he almost purrs out. "Or was that just heartfelt agreement?" He straddles Wyatt's body, reaching back behind him to steady that hard, wet length.

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He blushes, hot and cold at the same time, looking up at Ambrose with barely a hint of blue left to his eyes. "Please. Please..."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Shh," he soothes again, a finger coming to rest on Wyatt's lip. "No need to beg." He pushes back, sinks onto Wyatt's cock with a low, deep, lusty moan. He gets the head in before pausing, dropping his head down and watching Wyatt's face.

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"Can't help it," he breathes out, whisper soft. "Want you so much."

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Ambrose smiles slightly, pushing back again, sinking down the rest of the way in a smooth motion, exhaling as he sinks down. He settles on Wyatt's hips, eyes closed, head bowed and focusing on breathing.

It's been so long... even if it hasn't been for his body.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

Even if his head is foggy with desire, Wyatt knows better than to start making demands. His hands loosen their grip on the pillow to softly trail up Ambrose's thighs. For a moment, he just watches in silence.

"...Sweetheart. Everything all right?"

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"Oh..." He barely breaths the sound. "More than all right, Wyatt. More than all right." He lifts his gaze; his voice is smoky and his eyes black with desire. He leans his weight on his hands, on Wyatt's chest, and rolls his hips in a small circle without lifting them at all. "Mm."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

Fire. White hot and relentless and perfect, and he moans out loud from it. There's something about the confidence with which Ambrose moves that strums all his strings at the same time. Breathing is becoming a real challenge.

"Ahh..."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

He moves back the other way, then just rocks back and forth, suggesting the movement he will eventually pick up, once again, without ever moving up. He tenses his body and relaxes with a sigh. "Feels so good."

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

It's torture, sweet, mind-frying torture, and it brings back memories of another time and a completely different place. A couch, and kisses and Glitch pressed close and on top of him. It took just one little thing to have him firing on all cylinders that time; it doesn't feel too different this time. He thinks maybe all it will take is one little thing, and he won't know until it's happening.

He squirms, staring up at Ambrose, brow knitted in concentration.