The Office of the Crown (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
palace_marton) wrote2005-02-03 10:21 am
palace_marton) wrote2005-02-03 10:21 am
Entry tags:
Reconciliations and Redundancies. {Sean/Marton}
.
Angry, Sean confronts Marton about Will.
Sean opened his door. “Ah, Marton. Thanks for coming.” He stepped back and held the door open, closing it behind Marton and following him into the living space.
Christ, he looked good! Sean threaded his hand through his hair and tried to steady his pulse rate by sheer willpower. The black trousers and dark green shirt Marton was wearing clung in all the right places, the muscular outline of shoulders and upper arms, the long, lean thighs and the sweet curve of his . . .
“What? Sorry?” Marton had spoken, turned and was smiling at him. Fuck! How did he even start to address this, his well-rehearsed speech deserting him and his mind a complete blank.
“Sean?”
Sean was staring at Marton’s face, tracing the curve of his jaw with his eyes and following the line of his throat where it disappeared into the vee of the open-necked shirt. He swallowed, opened his mouth, “I like your hair.”
Marton’s eyebrows raised, “Thank you.” and Sean cursed himself silently for his distraction.
“Curls suit you.” he added. “Told you often enough. You never listened though, not to me.” He turned and walked toward the drinks cabinet. “Will’s had better luck, has he?”
Jeezus, but that sounded bad and he didn’t have the nerve to turn around and see the expression on Marton’s face. He fumbled with a glass and managed to pour himself a drink, uncaring of the early hour.
“Will?” Marton sounded thoughtful. “Is this why you wanted to see me? About Will?”
Steeling himself, drink in hand, he turned and faced him. Marton was watching him closely and Sean tried to school his features to neutrality. “I did wonder, yeah. Heard on the grapevine ‘bout you seeing him. Is it true then?” He ducked his head, sipping the drink he didn’t really want.
“Yes it is.”
And didn’t that hurt! Sean sucked in a breath and tried not to show it.
“Sean?” He saw Marton take a step toward him and lifted the hand with the drink in it, as if to ward him off. He stopped and Sean glanced up, got caught in his gaze and couldn’t look away.
“And what does Will think?” He spat, retaliating against a hurt Marton was unaware he’d inflicted, conscious of how rough his voice sounded, how accusing his tone. “He want it too or you just decided and he’s gone along with it, ‘cause God knows Will’s not one to turn down affection now, is he? No matter what’s good for him!” The words spilled out in a rush but none of them were the ones he’d meant to say, nor were any of them true. He knew damned well that Marton was better than that, would never do that, but what he truly wanted to know he couldn’t bring himself to voice.
Why him? Why not me?
It was all he could do to stop himself from screaming it out.
Marton had come closer, Sean could smell the spice of his cologne, his own special scent, and could see the fine gold hairs on his arms where his sleeves were rolled up. “You know me better than that.” His voice was gently accusing in return.
“Do I?” If I did, he thought sullenly, I knew the wrong things, obviously. Or nothing at all. Because somewhere along the line, I did something wrong and you dumped me for it; too nice or too polite to tell me why!
“Sean. What is it? What is it really?”
“Nothing!” Sean looked up, protested. “What I said! Was worried about Will, is all.” He went to move past Marton who shifted, getting in his way. Without thinking, Sean put up a hand and shoved him aside, only to feel a grab and yank on his forearm and then his whole body swinging around, his glass falling un-noticed onto the carpet, liquid spilling.
“Don’t!” It was an order and the tawny eyes demanded obedience. Out of habit, Sean relaxed, ceasing his attempt to struggle and subsiding into sullen silence. Marton glared at him. “What the hell is going on, Sean? You call me down here, won’t say why and the second I walk in the door you’re on the attack? And don’t give me any more of that rubbish about being concerned for Will. It may be true, but it’s not all of it.”
“It’s enough, isn’t it? Will, I mean. For you.” Staring at the carpet wasn’t very adult of him, but Sean was completely at sea now and unwilling to face the wrath he’d unintentionally unleashed.
“Is that what this is about?” Marton sounded vexed rather than angry and Sean chanced a quick look up. The amber eyes were puzzled. “Sean, we talked about this.” Conciliatory again, but Sean wasn’t having any of it.
“You talked!” He bristled. “I just had to listen and accept!”
There! He’d said it. Now his eyes came up and he stared right back at Marton, his face reflecting his true feelings. He pointed an accusing finger.
“And I bought it, to start with. Sounded all good and fucking noble and just like you. But not now, Marton! Not now, when you turn around and need a fuck and go elsewhere for it! What was it? What did I do, eh, that you couldn’t come back to me?”
*
Marton was flabbergasted for a moment, then he had a few seconds in which to think and realized how badly thought out his ‘plan’ had been. Though in his own defense, he’d been pretty desperate at the time and had seized on the first idea that had seemed as if it would work.
And it had, only he’d not taken into consideration Sean’s insecurities, nor anticipated that time would thin out his scant excuse even more. Damn!
Still, a part of him was saying that Sean had no right to question him, to address him in this manner and while he tried to ignore that innate arrogance, it still came though in his stance and in the tone of his voice.
“I did what I thought was best at the time.” he reiterated. “None of what I said was a lie, Sean and time has proven me correct. You and Eric are happy, aren’t you?”
Sean simply stared at him and Marton had the sinking feeling that, this time, his flimsy cover was not going to hold.
“Aren’t you?” he insisted, his heart beginning to thump in his chest and the urge to take flight, to get away before he revealed more than he cared to, took hold.
“You’re lying.” Sean said flatly, his eyes dark.
Empathy. He was picking up on Marton’s fear and interpreting it correctly, damnit.
“I . . .” The urge to simply squash Sean’s objections under the heel of majesty was nearly overwhelming, but Marton knew that if he did their friendship would essentially be over and that was the last thing he wanted.
Looking into those accusing, hurt, green eyes and lingering over the golden good looks that had captured him so effectively and so completely all those years ago, Marton felt a rush of . . . affection?
Not love. Not the desperate, aching pain that had been with him for so long, nothing like that. The echoes of it, he could still feel, but it was more distant than he was used to, as if it were slowly abating.
Marton wiped a hand across his face and took a couple of steps away, turning on his heel to face the other way, thinking. No. He’d been right, it simply wasn’t there anymore; the intensity of the love he’d held secret for so long was fading. It wasn’t that anything particular had happened to change it, more that distance had loosened the fierce grip Sean held on his heart, giving him time and space enough to begin to heal. He could hear Sean behind him, waiting for him to speak and he swung back.
Honesty suddenly didn’t seem so difficult and Sean seemed to sense the relaxation of tension in Marton’s tall frame, his own stance mirroring it unconsciously. Marton smiled and it was a tender, warm thing. He lifted his hands and laid them on Sean’s shoulders, drawing him in close for a hug.
Sean wrapped his arms around Marton’s waist with a rough sob that might have been relief and Marton kissed his temple. “Love you.” he whispered softly, letting his erstwhile lover know he was not angry. “You did nothing wrong, I swear. It was me. I did it for me.”
“You . . .?” Sean pulled back a little, enough that he could see Marton’s face clearly, the almost rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, the smile in his eyes.
Marton nodded. “I love you.” he repeated. “I loved you. I had to send you away.”
*
“Oh Christ, Marton . . .”
Marton laid his hand across Sean’s mouth. “Shh. No. It’s over and done.” He dropped his hand and replaced it with his mouth, a soft, chaste pressure.
Sean returned the kiss and leaned back, still within the circle of Marton’s arms. “All this time?”
Marton nodded and Sean raked a shaky hand through his hair, pushing back his fringe which immediately flopped back into his eyes. Marton smiled softly and carded back the strands himself as Sean let out a shaky breath. “I wish . . . I wish somehow it could have been different, you know?”
“I know.” Marton kissed his forehead. “Don’t worry. There were plenty of times I did, too.” A smile flashed across his face. “But then you’d not have Eric.”
“And you? . . . Is it Will?”
Marton shook his head. “No.” He said. “That just . . . happened. Will’s my friend and we’re good together. I enjoy his company, that’s all.”
“So it’s . . . Oh God, I’m sorry. I had no right.” Sean felt like shit! How could he not have known? But then Marton was extremely good at hiding things, especially feelings and especially from Talents.
“You had every right. I should have had the courage to tell you the truth in the first place. I’m the one who’s sorry. Left you dangling for so long, thinking you’d done something. I know you better than that.”
Sean let out a soft chuckle, moved back in and pressed himself up against Marton, relishing the contact. “We done apologizing now?” he asked. “Missed this.” he whispered, his lips against Marton’s throat. “Missed you!”
He felt Marton swallow, shift his weight and his hands clenched into fists where they rested around Sean’s waist. Encouraged, Sean laid a kiss beneath the curve of Marton’s ear, on the tender spot where the vein throbbed close enough to the surface that he could feel it’s pulse against his lips.
Marton’s head dropped and a tiny sound escaped, Sean threading his fingers through the soft curls, shifting his hips and locking them against Marton’s, widening his stance. “Feel so good.” His tongue traced the path of the vein down to where it disappeared into the shirt, reveling in the taste, the warm scent, re-acquainting himself with the feel of Marton.
A soft moan came to his ears and the realization that it was he who had uttered it bought Marton back to reality. He pulled away, unable to escape completely, but far enough that he could look at Sean and shake his head. “No.” he was gentle but firm. “Sean. No backward steps. Please.”
It was unlike him to ask and Sean had little choice but to comply, regretfully ceasing his ministrations. He nodded his understanding but still pulled a face. “One day.”
Marton’s smile was gentle, if not a little pained. “Yeah. One day.”
Sean’s eyes glinted with tears and Marton had a idea that his own were similarly bright. He tugged him closer. “Love you.” He couldn’t say it enough, rested his forehead against Sean’s. “Always have, always will.”
Angry, Sean confronts Marton about Will.
Sean opened his door. “Ah, Marton. Thanks for coming.” He stepped back and held the door open, closing it behind Marton and following him into the living space.
Christ, he looked good! Sean threaded his hand through his hair and tried to steady his pulse rate by sheer willpower. The black trousers and dark green shirt Marton was wearing clung in all the right places, the muscular outline of shoulders and upper arms, the long, lean thighs and the sweet curve of his . . .
“What? Sorry?” Marton had spoken, turned and was smiling at him. Fuck! How did he even start to address this, his well-rehearsed speech deserting him and his mind a complete blank.
“Sean?”
Sean was staring at Marton’s face, tracing the curve of his jaw with his eyes and following the line of his throat where it disappeared into the vee of the open-necked shirt. He swallowed, opened his mouth, “I like your hair.”
Marton’s eyebrows raised, “Thank you.” and Sean cursed himself silently for his distraction.
“Curls suit you.” he added. “Told you often enough. You never listened though, not to me.” He turned and walked toward the drinks cabinet. “Will’s had better luck, has he?”
Jeezus, but that sounded bad and he didn’t have the nerve to turn around and see the expression on Marton’s face. He fumbled with a glass and managed to pour himself a drink, uncaring of the early hour.
“Will?” Marton sounded thoughtful. “Is this why you wanted to see me? About Will?”
Steeling himself, drink in hand, he turned and faced him. Marton was watching him closely and Sean tried to school his features to neutrality. “I did wonder, yeah. Heard on the grapevine ‘bout you seeing him. Is it true then?” He ducked his head, sipping the drink he didn’t really want.
“Yes it is.”
And didn’t that hurt! Sean sucked in a breath and tried not to show it.
“Sean?” He saw Marton take a step toward him and lifted the hand with the drink in it, as if to ward him off. He stopped and Sean glanced up, got caught in his gaze and couldn’t look away.
“And what does Will think?” He spat, retaliating against a hurt Marton was unaware he’d inflicted, conscious of how rough his voice sounded, how accusing his tone. “He want it too or you just decided and he’s gone along with it, ‘cause God knows Will’s not one to turn down affection now, is he? No matter what’s good for him!” The words spilled out in a rush but none of them were the ones he’d meant to say, nor were any of them true. He knew damned well that Marton was better than that, would never do that, but what he truly wanted to know he couldn’t bring himself to voice.
Why him? Why not me?
It was all he could do to stop himself from screaming it out.
Marton had come closer, Sean could smell the spice of his cologne, his own special scent, and could see the fine gold hairs on his arms where his sleeves were rolled up. “You know me better than that.” His voice was gently accusing in return.
“Do I?” If I did, he thought sullenly, I knew the wrong things, obviously. Or nothing at all. Because somewhere along the line, I did something wrong and you dumped me for it; too nice or too polite to tell me why!
“Sean. What is it? What is it really?”
“Nothing!” Sean looked up, protested. “What I said! Was worried about Will, is all.” He went to move past Marton who shifted, getting in his way. Without thinking, Sean put up a hand and shoved him aside, only to feel a grab and yank on his forearm and then his whole body swinging around, his glass falling un-noticed onto the carpet, liquid spilling.
“Don’t!” It was an order and the tawny eyes demanded obedience. Out of habit, Sean relaxed, ceasing his attempt to struggle and subsiding into sullen silence. Marton glared at him. “What the hell is going on, Sean? You call me down here, won’t say why and the second I walk in the door you’re on the attack? And don’t give me any more of that rubbish about being concerned for Will. It may be true, but it’s not all of it.”
“It’s enough, isn’t it? Will, I mean. For you.” Staring at the carpet wasn’t very adult of him, but Sean was completely at sea now and unwilling to face the wrath he’d unintentionally unleashed.
“Is that what this is about?” Marton sounded vexed rather than angry and Sean chanced a quick look up. The amber eyes were puzzled. “Sean, we talked about this.” Conciliatory again, but Sean wasn’t having any of it.
“You talked!” He bristled. “I just had to listen and accept!”
There! He’d said it. Now his eyes came up and he stared right back at Marton, his face reflecting his true feelings. He pointed an accusing finger.
“And I bought it, to start with. Sounded all good and fucking noble and just like you. But not now, Marton! Not now, when you turn around and need a fuck and go elsewhere for it! What was it? What did I do, eh, that you couldn’t come back to me?”
*
Marton was flabbergasted for a moment, then he had a few seconds in which to think and realized how badly thought out his ‘plan’ had been. Though in his own defense, he’d been pretty desperate at the time and had seized on the first idea that had seemed as if it would work.
And it had, only he’d not taken into consideration Sean’s insecurities, nor anticipated that time would thin out his scant excuse even more. Damn!
Still, a part of him was saying that Sean had no right to question him, to address him in this manner and while he tried to ignore that innate arrogance, it still came though in his stance and in the tone of his voice.
“I did what I thought was best at the time.” he reiterated. “None of what I said was a lie, Sean and time has proven me correct. You and Eric are happy, aren’t you?”
Sean simply stared at him and Marton had the sinking feeling that, this time, his flimsy cover was not going to hold.
“Aren’t you?” he insisted, his heart beginning to thump in his chest and the urge to take flight, to get away before he revealed more than he cared to, took hold.
“You’re lying.” Sean said flatly, his eyes dark.
Empathy. He was picking up on Marton’s fear and interpreting it correctly, damnit.
“I . . .” The urge to simply squash Sean’s objections under the heel of majesty was nearly overwhelming, but Marton knew that if he did their friendship would essentially be over and that was the last thing he wanted.
Looking into those accusing, hurt, green eyes and lingering over the golden good looks that had captured him so effectively and so completely all those years ago, Marton felt a rush of . . . affection?
Not love. Not the desperate, aching pain that had been with him for so long, nothing like that. The echoes of it, he could still feel, but it was more distant than he was used to, as if it were slowly abating.
Marton wiped a hand across his face and took a couple of steps away, turning on his heel to face the other way, thinking. No. He’d been right, it simply wasn’t there anymore; the intensity of the love he’d held secret for so long was fading. It wasn’t that anything particular had happened to change it, more that distance had loosened the fierce grip Sean held on his heart, giving him time and space enough to begin to heal. He could hear Sean behind him, waiting for him to speak and he swung back.
Honesty suddenly didn’t seem so difficult and Sean seemed to sense the relaxation of tension in Marton’s tall frame, his own stance mirroring it unconsciously. Marton smiled and it was a tender, warm thing. He lifted his hands and laid them on Sean’s shoulders, drawing him in close for a hug.
Sean wrapped his arms around Marton’s waist with a rough sob that might have been relief and Marton kissed his temple. “Love you.” he whispered softly, letting his erstwhile lover know he was not angry. “You did nothing wrong, I swear. It was me. I did it for me.”
“You . . .?” Sean pulled back a little, enough that he could see Marton’s face clearly, the almost rueful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, the smile in his eyes.
Marton nodded. “I love you.” he repeated. “I loved you. I had to send you away.”
*
“Oh Christ, Marton . . .”
Marton laid his hand across Sean’s mouth. “Shh. No. It’s over and done.” He dropped his hand and replaced it with his mouth, a soft, chaste pressure.
Sean returned the kiss and leaned back, still within the circle of Marton’s arms. “All this time?”
Marton nodded and Sean raked a shaky hand through his hair, pushing back his fringe which immediately flopped back into his eyes. Marton smiled softly and carded back the strands himself as Sean let out a shaky breath. “I wish . . . I wish somehow it could have been different, you know?”
“I know.” Marton kissed his forehead. “Don’t worry. There were plenty of times I did, too.” A smile flashed across his face. “But then you’d not have Eric.”
“And you? . . . Is it Will?”
Marton shook his head. “No.” He said. “That just . . . happened. Will’s my friend and we’re good together. I enjoy his company, that’s all.”
“So it’s . . . Oh God, I’m sorry. I had no right.” Sean felt like shit! How could he not have known? But then Marton was extremely good at hiding things, especially feelings and especially from Talents.
“You had every right. I should have had the courage to tell you the truth in the first place. I’m the one who’s sorry. Left you dangling for so long, thinking you’d done something. I know you better than that.”
Sean let out a soft chuckle, moved back in and pressed himself up against Marton, relishing the contact. “We done apologizing now?” he asked. “Missed this.” he whispered, his lips against Marton’s throat. “Missed you!”
He felt Marton swallow, shift his weight and his hands clenched into fists where they rested around Sean’s waist. Encouraged, Sean laid a kiss beneath the curve of Marton’s ear, on the tender spot where the vein throbbed close enough to the surface that he could feel it’s pulse against his lips.
Marton’s head dropped and a tiny sound escaped, Sean threading his fingers through the soft curls, shifting his hips and locking them against Marton’s, widening his stance. “Feel so good.” His tongue traced the path of the vein down to where it disappeared into the shirt, reveling in the taste, the warm scent, re-acquainting himself with the feel of Marton.
A soft moan came to his ears and the realization that it was he who had uttered it bought Marton back to reality. He pulled away, unable to escape completely, but far enough that he could look at Sean and shake his head. “No.” he was gentle but firm. “Sean. No backward steps. Please.”
It was unlike him to ask and Sean had little choice but to comply, regretfully ceasing his ministrations. He nodded his understanding but still pulled a face. “One day.”
Marton’s smile was gentle, if not a little pained. “Yeah. One day.”
Sean’s eyes glinted with tears and Marton had a idea that his own were similarly bright. He tugged him closer. “Love you.” He couldn’t say it enough, rested his forehead against Sean’s. “Always have, always will.”