(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.

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[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose leans down, stroking Wyatt's face tenderly. "There's not such thing as too close, handsome. Just a compliment that I really am as good as I like to think." He kisses him slow and deep and tender, cupping the back of his neck and head to guide him into the kiss.

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Wyatt melts into the kiss, relaxing from the softly spoken reassurances, and little by little, the embarrassment fades away. His hands move, touching Ambrose wherever he wants to; up his back, down his sides and his arms and his face, through his hair and skimming the zipper embedded in his head. Apart from that, Ambrose is still in charge. He's still in control and stoking the fire to his own liking.

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Ambrose keeps kissing him, rocking his hips slowly and softly, pushing back against him and letting his own weight drag him forward just a little bit. "Okay again," he asks softly, not wanting to do anything that makes Wyatt uncomfortable.

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"I love you so much," he whispers back. "It just...gets the better of me at times." He smiles. "I'm okay. I was more than okay to begin with."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"I love you too," Ambrose whispers. He smiles and sits up a bit more, twists his hips back and forth to settle and goes back to his slow, self indulgent movements.

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And Wyatt lies back, his hands returning to rest on and caress Ambrose's strong thighs, watching him from under hooded eyelids.

"Love me like you want to. Any way you want to."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

"I intend on it," Ambrose positively purrs, returning to his same slow drag and push, riding Wyatt in a slow, measured way designed to drive Wyatt crazy and keep himself comfortably burning until he is ready to kick it up a notch.

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It doesn't take long before his legs move restlessly, curling and kicking out in something approaching frustration, before he's squirming and blushing from the top of his head to almost down to his waist, and every breath ends with a moan of his lover's name.

If this is what going crazy feels like, he'll gladly join the loony bin any day.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose twists on Wyatt, pausing impaled deep and shifting his weight back and forth. "Yes, Wyatt," he asks, breathless and flushed and tense. "Do you want more? Less? Talk to me."

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The answer should be simple, with just two options to choose from. More, or less.

More.

Less.

Shouldn't be a big deal, and it wouldn't be if they didn't both hold such promise that Wyatt isn't sure he can make the choice. But that's before he looks up and into the black depths of Ambrose's eyes and sees the passion in them. That makes it so much easier to choose. One of his hands seeks out his lover's, and holds on tight.

"Everything. I want everything you have to give, Sweetheart."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose goes one better and catches both Wyatt's hands in his, holding onto them and he continues to move, slow rocks back and forth, deep movements that speak of deep love and passion without being wild in any way. "I have a lot to give, Wyatt."

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He moans, shivering at the thought and the intimacy of the gesture. There's just something so incredibly sensual about Ambrose's hands in his hands, holding his hands; moving with him. Being in control.

Strong.

Just right.

"Give it to me. Please Ambrose, I need you. Want you."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

With a small flutter of his lashes and soft sigh of breath, Ambrose regards Wyatt. "If you're sure," he murmurs, before shifting his weight, putting him knees into the floor firmly before drawing up and smoothly dropping back down again.

It isn't hurried, but it isn't the languorous tease of before. It's a steady, satisfying motion and rhythm, hands still clutching tightly to Wyatt's.

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Every last nerve in his body sings with sensation; everything sounds and feels like pleasure, and he's strung so tight he thinks he would snap if there weren't for Ambrose holding him down and keeping him steady.

And yet, it doesn't stop him from expressing his encouragement loudly, with moans and whimpers of surprise. He's harder than he thought possible, and bit by bit, he's starting to ache with the need to move for release, but when ever that feels good, he couldn't possibly object to anything.

"Yes, yes-- Yes."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

He has to untangle their hands to get more movement, the leverage behind him, to lean forwards on his hands because his legs are trembling softly as he moves. He would draw it out, but this is something so different, so much more intimate than anything he's known before, watching Wyatt's eyes as he can feel him deep inside.

"Move with me," he asks softly. "Please."

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Being given permission is one of the sexiest things Wyatt has ever known, and the only restraint there was, was of his own making. And still, he moans, reaching for Ambrose's hips the moment his voice does wicked things to his entire body and his brain deciphers what it means.

It means he can move.

And move he does, encouraging Ambrose to lift himself up just a little bit before sinking back down, and that's when he pushes up. Bright lights explode behind his eyes. He's overheating and he doesn't care, because it's nothing at all compared to the fire that burns between them.

"Yes, yes, feel me Ambrose, gimme all you've got, make love to me, love me."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose reaches to just stroke a hand as it curls on his hip before leaning his hands back on Wyatt's chest. He shifts as he's urged to, pushing back and still not quite expecting Wyatt to meet the movement, to push up into him, sending sparks up his spine and jolting through his cock with pleasure. He can feel sweat trickling down the side of his face and it's almost a pleasure in itself he feels so sensitised.

He cannot stop himself doing it again. He needs more.

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He moves his hips faster and faster, driven by deeply rooted instinct and a need to satisfy his lover, and somehow the touch of his hands is light, gentle. He thinks maybe if he wasn't so consumed by making love, if his focus lay more squarely on just himself, he would be bruising Ambrose's hips. But he doesn't. He doesn't even need a firmer touch, they're moving together so perfectly. Maybe that's why he doesn't dare speak louder than whisper soft.

"Touch yourself, Ambrose, or I will. Wanna see you make a mess all over me."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

The light touch is more than enough to keep him moving, rolling with the thrusts to make himself jerk and moan with want and lust and love. That's the difference. He's had sex before. He's never made love.

"Don't need touching," he panted softly. Not if Wyatt let him keep moving how he needed to.

[less-hugging.livejournal.com]

His breath catches in his throat from the mere implication that all Ambrose needs is his cock. Even if it isn't true, it's incredibly erotic, and unfortunately, it's just the ticket to send Wyatt careening off track.

He crashes, completely blindsided, hard and wailing and blushing like a ripe, red plum in the face.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Slamming back, feeling Wyatt jerk up abruptly against him and coming suddenly, deep in him, it's entirely something else for Ambrose, because he's never really been keenly aware of his lover before, not like this.

He just needs a tiny bit more, hadn't but now he does to catch up, and all it takes is on finger pressing under his sac and up to massage his prostate from the other side and he's coming, near silent.

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He keeps moving his hips through his orgasm, staring hungrily at Ambrose as he joins him, and if he wasn't already shivering and trembling from the force of the pleasure coursing through him, the sight and smell and feel of slick, white splatters on his skin would be more than enough.

It sends an extra few jolts through him, making him twitch and arch his back, and the way Ambrose squeezes around him is an added bonus. A very nice, very enticing, very sensual added bonus. He moans, scooping up every last drop of cum and smearing it all over his torso. Into his abs and his belly button and between his pecs and into his aching nipples.

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose rolls his hips as few last time, soaking the way Wyatt moved under him, in him still an he shamelessly leans back, arching his body to Wyatt's gaze as the last of his orgasm shudders through him.

He looks down onto Wyatt with a slow smile at the shameless way he luxuriates in the feeling of cum over his skin. He wriggles his hips slightly.

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It startles a low moan out of him, but more than anything else, with all the pleasure buzzing through his system, it comes out as more of a chuckle.

"Oh, Ambrose..."

[amicably-absent.livejournal.com]

Ambrose smiles and leans down, wrapping his arms lazily around Wyatt's neck and kissing him slow and deep. He shifts to try and stop Wyatt slipping from his body, inevitable as it is.