After they were both spent Ford nestled in next to Macnair on the bed. He was still a little disgruntled about the mismatch between Macnair's unblemished skin and his, but it wasn't worth dwelling on when he had the other man's arm around him and his chest beneath Ford's fingers.

I love this, Ford thought. He wouldn't say that, though; there wasn't enough distance from the accidental confession on Saturday for him to feel comfortable using a word like love, even if he was referencing a moment instead of a person. He didn't want Macnair to think he meant something more serious about it and get scared off, which was a concern no matter what he'd written in his letters to Ford since then.

Macnair's body stiffened against him, and for one hazy panicked moment Ford thought maybe he had said it out loud after all and that was what Macnair was reacting to. Ford hadn't meant to say anything, but he hadn't meant to say anything at the club, so who was to say it hadn't happened?

"What?" he asked, pulling back from Macnair's chest slightly with a sinking feeling in his stomach.

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Set by Lady!

Greengrass pulling back, even if only slightly, sent his heart racing. He tried to take a deep breath, tried to swallow the stubborn lump in his throat, and when he tried to speak it only came out as a strangled, "Nothing."

He didn't want to lose this, and yet the realization was finally dawning that in less than twenty-four hours it would not be Greengrass in bed next to him, but Tatiana. It wasn't that she wasn't attractive or pretty or desirable—he could see the allure of her, even if he wasn't personally affected by it—and it wasn't as though he thought he'd be repulsed by her, but it wasn't the same as this.

Valerian shifted slightly, turning his body towards Greengrass, his gaze traveling down from Greengrass' eyes to the spot where his body disappeared under the sheets that rested atop their bare skin. He would never have this with Tatiana, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to, but she was the one who would be a permanent fixture in his life, not Greengrass, and it set off a panic in his head.

"It's—I'm alright," he reassured, even as his breath came out shaky.

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He clearly wasn't, but on their first night back together Ford wasn't sure he could be so bold as to say that. It wasn't as though they'd been confidantes before, and no amount of sweet words on paper gave him the right to pry into a matter if Macnair didn't want to tell him about it.

Ford moved to a sitting position on the bed, with the sheets pooled over his lap. "Should I go?" he asked, biting his lip. He didn't want to, certainly, but there was clearly something the matter, and if Macnair didn't want to tell him... well, what if it was about him? He'd rather go than stay where he wasn't wanted and make everything worse.

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Set by Lady!

Greengrass sat up. Valerian did, too. He reached out and placed a hand on Greengrass' back, his other reaching out to grab Greengrass' thigh, as if prepared to hold him in place if he tried to leave. "No, I don't—" he began, giving a little tug on Greengrass' thigh before letting go. Greengrass leaving was the worst scenario, because then he'd be left to his thoughts, still in the afterglow but without anyone to hold onto. Valerian laid back down slowly and opened his arms, an invitation for Greengrass to curl up next to him again.

"It's stupid, really," he sighed, trying to relax his body despite the nervous jitters that coursed through his body. "In any case, I don't think it's anything you want to hear about." Despite that, he wanted to talk about it—he wanted to be able to be vulnerable, to open up to Greengrass, to let himself have that with someone—but talking about her was the most selfish thing he could do right now.

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The gestures assured Ford that Macnair really did want him to stay and wasn't just saying it to be polite (or if he was just saying it, he was doing too convincing a job). Ford still wasn't convinced that he ought to stay if there was something the matter, but after a brief hesitation he accepted the invitation back into Macnair's arms. He leaned his head on Macnair's shoulder, but kept his head tilted to keep an eye on his expression.

The excuse Macnair gave was bewildering. Hadn't they just written to each other that they wanted to spend time together, and for this whole thing to be more than physical? When Ford imagined what it would be like to be with someone, romantically instead of just sexually, this was more or less the crux of it: getting to share how you were feeling and what you were thinking, and having support through it. Was Macnair backtracking from the things he'd said in his letter, or had his meaning been something different from what Ford had understood?

"Well, it's up to you," Ford said carefully. He didn't want to seem as though he was pressuring Macnair one way or another, particularly since he didn't have the faintest idea what this was about. "But if you want to talk, I'll listen."

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Set by Lady!

Valerian wrapped his arms around Greengrass, trying to shake himself from the sudden nerves that seemed determined to ruin his evening. He felt guilty; tonight was supposed to be about him and Greengrass, not Tatiana, and yet there was no way to enjoy any of this so close to his wedding without his mind trailing to that. He pondered Greengrass' words, knowing Greengrass well enough to know he would listen, but the last thing he wanted to do was pour his problems onto the man who was already uncomfortable with the concept of his marriage.

"It's about her," he said quietly, turning his head sideways to bury his face into Greengrass' curls. He didn't want to see the look on his face—the annoyance, the sadness, the resignation, the whatever. He felt ashamed enough already.

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There was no mistaking who Macnair meant by her. Ford frowned, but said nothing. He wrapped his own arms a little tighter around Macnair's chest.

You didn't have to marry her, Ford thought. It wouldn't have been a particularly productive thing to say. Even if there were no underlying issues that had forced his hand initially, it wasn't as though Macnair could call it off now. Not without burning his bridges entirely with the bride and her family, which — would be rather awkward, since it was his family, too. Whatever had propelled him into this situation, he was well and truly trapped now. And Ford still didn't know why he had decided to marry his cousin in the first place. The only thing Macnair had been particularly forthcoming with was that it had nothing to do with love.

Ford traced his fingertips down Macnair's torso slowly and waited to see if Macnair wanted to say anything else. He was rather torn about his role in this conversation. He wanted to be comforting, and he wanted Macnair to feel glad he'd confided in him and empowered to do so in the future if he wanted to... but he desperately didn't want to find himself in the middle of their marriage.

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The following 1 user Likes Fortitude Greengrass's post:1 user Likes Fortitude Greengrass's post
   Valerian Macnair

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Set by Lady!

Greengrass remained silent, which wasn't helpful given that Valerian was making an effort to avoid looking at his face, but then Greengrass squeezed him tighter and suddenly a sigh escaped his lungs. He angled his body towards Greengrass' a little more, allowing him room to better wrap his arms around Greengrass until he practically had the man wrapped in a hug.

"It's not... I'm not worried about being married to her," he explained. He knew Tatiana well enough to know how she was and what she'd expect to get out of their marriage. They respected each other, liked each other more than some couples could say, and even enjoyed each other's company when they were trying to. No, he would do fine as her husband. "But I can't—I'm not sure—" He struggled to find the words, his cheeks already heating with embarrassment. No man should ever be concerned about this. It was almost unnatural, given how Tatiana was a natural beauty and all. "I don't want to sleep with her," he finally admitted, frowning.

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When Macnair had pressed his face into Ford's hair it had hampered Ford's ability to see his expression, but now he was glad of it. It meant he didn't have to worry that Macnair would notice the involuntary tightening of his jaw or the look that crossed his eyes. Ford had been pushing aside a lot of unprocessed guilt about Macnair having a wedding tomorrow, but his thoughts had always centered on the emotional aspect of it. If they were discovered she would surely be hurt, but if she knew Macnair didn't love her perhaps she wouldn't be devastated. This other aspect of it was one he hadn't forced himself to consider before now, though of course if he'd stepped back to think about it logically he would have known that Macnair marrying her meant he'd also need to sleep with her. But in polite society sex was just the sort of thing no one thought about or talked about, unless there was some sort of trouble about it. Ford didn't particularly want to talk about it now, and he certainly didn't want to picture any of the particulars.

Not that he'd even know where to start if he did want to picture anything. Ford had never even kissed a girl, so he had no first hand experience on which to draw from. He had a vague notion of women's anatomy from having grown up with sisters, but knew none of the particulars (and hadn't had any exposure since his days in the shared nursery, so if there were any differences between adult women and children he was entirely in the dark on that point). So it was hardly as though he was in a position to give advice, even if he'd wanted to.

Ford nestled in a little tighter against Macnair, though he wasn't sure if he'd done it to be comforting or to further protect his own expression from observation. "But you've done it before?" he asked, though he didn't really want to know. "With a —?"

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Set by Lady!

He was at war with his mind. He'd need to sleep with Tatiana, but to do so he'd need to be able to look like he was enjoying it, and he wasn't sure how it would be possible. It wasn't even that she was a woman—he'd slept with women before, reached a climax while sleeping with women—but that it was her. "Yes," he answered, "and it's never been—great, but—it's—she moved in with us when she was nine. Can you imagine?"" He sounded miserable when he spoke, but it was only half of it. He knew he was no saint; he'd slept with Arthur, who like Tatiana was his cousin, but he was older than Valerian and they hadn't spent years living in the same household. Tatiana being a woman didn't help matters, but it wasn't the crux of the issue.

As if to try to push the thoughts from his mind, he brought his hands up, running them through Greengrass' curls. He pressed his lips against the top of Greengrass' head, holding them there, desperately trying to find comfort from his thoughts. "I wish I didn't have to marry," he murmured, turning his head to the side again. It was not a sentiment he'd ever expressed before; in fact, he'd always been insistent that he did want to marry. But that was before it was a concept in his mind—him, a wife he was fond of but didn't have to bother much with, and half a dozen little children. Now, it was a reality, and it was scary as much as he hated to admit it.

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Ford's eyes stuck on a piece of molding halfway up the opposite wall while Macnair's fingers combed through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? You didn't have to! he could have yelled. Sure, Macnair was the oldest son in his family and it was the sort of family who cared about legacies and traditions and things. Ford knew what that was like. He'd grown up with the same vague set of expectations about his own future. All of that had gone out the window, of course, when his father had died and he'd become much more concerned with the Greengrass family present than their future. So Ford knew the pressures of being the oldest son, but he also knew that sometimes things came up that shifted your priorities. Macnair also had a lot of brothers, so it wasn't as though this was all riding on his shoulders alone.

And it wasn't even like Macnair was old enough that people would start wondering why he hadn't married yet. There was no reason at all he'd needed to propose to his cousin, who by all accounts had already secured the attentions of another man. He could have waited until he'd found a woman he actually liked, maybe even loved. He could have picked literally anyone else.

Macnair was upset. It was clear from his tone that he was having quite a moment. Ford had no idea what to say about any of it. "Well," he attempted, wondering if his tone sounded as uncertain as he felt. "It probably won't stay that way?"

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Set by Lady!

Although Greengrass said nothing to suggest that he wouldn't continue to listen, Valerian was at odds with himself. This isn't something you should keep to yourself, part of him said. It was the healer part of him, the part of him that comforted patients who'd suffered emotional scars to match their physical ones. Greengrass wasn't the ideal person to share his struggles with, but there was no one else, was there? Except maybe Arthur, but their relationship didn't usually involve his feelings. There was another, more insistent part of him, however, that told him, You're going to upset him. You're going to ruin this. Shut up. It was the logical part of him—or maybe the prideful part of him, Maybe both.

Valerian shook his head against Greengrass' hair, but let silence take over. He wasn't sure if there was anything to say; it wasn't as though there was a solution to his problem, and his wedding night was so close that he couldn't imagine being calm about it.

"I only hope she doesn't have grand expectations about..." He didn't want to say it out loud, but he didn't think he needed to. "It's better that way. The sooner this wedding is over, the quicker everything can go back to normal." And the sooner he'd be able to reap the benefits that had driven him to marry in the first place—to have a woman to care for the home and host parties in their name, to be the daughter his mother always wanted (which in turn would make her love him more). "I'm going to be alright." He would have to, or else the next twenty-four hours would be a living hell. He leaned down and kissed Greengras's forehead.

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Ford's stomach flipped, and not in the good way. This wasn't butterflies and mushy feelings; this was closer to nausea. He didn't know whether it was the way Macnair talked about it or the fact that he'd kissed Ford's forehead right afterwards that did it. Maybe it wasn't either of those things — maybe it was just the phrase back to normal, and the realization it brought him that this sort of thing might become normal. Perhaps he should have expected this when he'd agreed to start things up again. It wasn't as though Macnair's wife was a secret. Was this the sort of pillow talk he'd signed up for, when he'd agreed to play paramour to a married man?

Ford turned — not away, he told himself, because they could still be cuddling just as well with Ford's back against Macnair's chest, so it wasn't as though he was pulling back. Whatever he told himself, though, it was a relief not to have to be so careful about where he was looking — the sight of Macnair's bare chest below him only made the nauseated feeling worse.

"You're good at this," he mumbled towards the pillow. "It'll be fine."

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Set by Lady!

A panic rose in his chest as Greengrass began to shirt away, and he began replaying the thoughts that had haunted him—He doesn't need to hear this—He's going to be upset and not want to come back anymore—This is the last night you're going to spend with him and you're talking about her—but then Greengrass settled against his chest and he began to calm down.

He ran his hand along the side of Greengrass' body, trying to commit every curve of muscle, every dip in the flesh, every freckle and every blemish to memory, knowing that it would be another two weeks before he could physically look at the man, let alone have him in his bed.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked, tucking his arm around Greengrass' waist, holding him tighter. Greengrass hadn't yelled, hadn't fled, hadn't said anything to make him think he wasn't okay, but despite his attempts to reassure himself he knew he needed verbal confirmation.

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"I'm fine," he said (though he wasn't). "I'm tired."

He'd meant to gently end the conversation, because he didn't want to have to talk about this any more and he certainly didn't want to have to talk about the way it made him feel. It was only a soft ending to the discussion if he was spending the night, though, and they could just drift off into silence and eventually to sleep. He'd forgotten for a moment that he wasn't, and now he realized with some slight panic that he might have to actually get up and leave because of what he'd just said. Not that he was upset about the idea of leaving at the moment — it was just that that meant having to get up and move around and interact with Macnair more, when all he wanted to do was keep laying here until he didn't feel so sick about all of this.

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Set by Lady!

Valerian remained still, not a single word leaving his lips. His grip on Greengrass' waist slackened, but he didn't release it entirely, unsure if his remark about being tired meant that he wanted to leave or whether it was simply a statement about his physical state (he wanted to believe the ladder, but the sickening feeling crept up and he was growing more certain it was the former).

"Oh," is what he said finally, in a voice just above a whisper, "Do you...?"

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