Fic: Secret of Its Skeleton (Swordspoint, NC-17)

[brigdh]

Title: Secret of Its Skeleton
Author: Brigdh
Ratings/Warnings: NC-17 for m/m sex, with some mild BDSM overtones.
Summary: What do you do when you're stuck inside from the snow? Or, Alec sulks and winter sucks.
Notes: No spoilers. Title taken from T. S. Eliot's Rhapsody on a Windy Night, thanks to ranalore. Even though she intended to give it as a prompt to someone else, it fit so well that I stole it.
Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to Ellen Kushner.

***

As if the world gave up
The secret of its skeleton,
Stiff and white.

It was snowing, a nearly imperceptible fall of sparkling pin-points that nonetheless came steadily and thickly, filling the air like a fog; by the time he reached home, his shoulders were buried under a cold layer that seemed too heavy to have come from the tiny individual flakes. But Alec had a fire roaring, and it had made their rooms noticeably warmer and drier than the hallway; the heat scorched across Richard's wind-burned cheeks as he came inside, blowing away the chill on his skin and slowly sinking through him. He paused in the doorway to knock the snow from his cloak and boots. Alec had moved in a few weeks ago, but it hadn't made him more predictable, and Richard was glad to find him here. He was finding that he preferred Alec's company; strange and vicious as the scholar sometimes was, he was rarely boring.

Alec watched him shake off the snow, currently appearing mildly amused. He was, for once, not sitting by the fire but in the window, wrapped in blankets to make up for the distance from its warmth. One of his books waited by his feet, but Richard wasn't sure how he intended to read it, since he was using both hands to hold the blankets in place. He must have gathered every one they owned; the multiple layers of them obscured the long lines of his body, melding his limbs and trunk to a single, rounded shape.

"Hello," Richard said. "It's snowing again. I think it might be a real storm this time; the wind's picking up, too. I'll get an offer soon if this snow sticks. People like the way a duel looks in the snow. It's messy, really, and not romantic, but at least it's a challenge."

Alec was slouched in the corner of the seat, his head dropped back against the wall. He rolled it to the side, his chin high and eyes half-lidded to stare down his nose out of the window. "I know it's snowing. It's why I had the sense not to go out tonight."

"You didn't miss much. I suppose you weren't the only one the weather kept inside."

Alec frowned, probably not pleased to hear that other people had shared his idea. "Did you kill anyone, at least?"

"No." The snow had melted quickly; Richard spread his cloak and jacket on the table, where they'd dry in the warmth of the fire, and moved to Alec's side. He still stared out of the window. Richard didn't know what he was looking at; from his angle, the glass was a mirror gilded with the shifting red and orange light from the fireplace, marred only by the shadows he and Alec cast. But maybe Alec could see something more. "You know I don't have a job planned right now."

"I do know. But you might have killed someone for the pleasure of it."

Richard smiled. "People don't bother me." Alec's reflection lifted its eyes, considering Richard through the mirror. He seemed oddly quiet, but he often was, lately. Alec's reserve flickered in and out with his moods; inexplicable things could upset him, and Richard could only stop him from his worst excesses of self-destruction, not understand their causes. The flakes of snow that had caught in his hair turned to water and bled down in brief, cold drops, like little shocks. He ran a hand roughly through his hair to shake them away, but they continued, sporadic and sudden.

Alec kept his silence, weighing possible answers, before dismissing the entire line of conversation with an irritated shrug. "Anyway, I can't imagine anything pleasurable happening in this sort of weather."

"It's not that bad. Are you still cold?"

Alec pursed his lips, turning to face him. "Of course I'm cold, Richard. The sun shines for a mere handful of hours, if that. If it's not snowing or clouded over or some other trick to steal what little light we might have gotten. And when it's not snowing, the wind is blowing, so that the cold comes in through every crack in the walls. Everywhere I go is cold; it follows me." His voice grew louder and more agitated than the sneering pace of his words; he tore a hand out from the welter of blankets and wrapped it around Richard's wrist. "Do you feel that? My fingers haven't been warm in months. I can't escape it, but you're warm enough. I'm the one who-" His next word broke to pieces in his throat and he stopped, sealing his mouth shut in a rage.

His skin did feel chilled. Richard carefully removed himself from Alec's hold, reversing the grip until Alec's fingers were between his hands and he could chafe some heat into them. Alec's arm was stiff with tension, running up to where the blankets had slipped away to reveal his rigid shoulders, and he watched Richard distrustfully; Richard scraped his thumb across Alec's middle knuckles and threaded his fingers between Alec's, stroking down to reach the soft webs between their bases. Alec shivered. His fingers curled against Richard's palm, their tips digging sharply into the side of Richard's thumb, and Richard stilled, keeping his hands loose enough for Alec to free himself. After a moment, Alec offered him his other hand instead.

Richard took it, raising their hands together to his mouth, breathing warm air over their fingers, though Alec's no longer felt cold. Alec had narrow hands, and long fingers; elegant hands, even with the short, dirty nails and skin dried by winter. Richard started to breathe over them again, but instead kissed the tendons in the back of the hand, and then the knuckles, the fingers. Alec looked up at him. Richard met his eyes as he turned Alec's left hand over and kissed the thin skin over the bones of his wrist.

Alec breathed in, his chest jumping, and jerked his hands away. He steadied them against his blankets, face blank and tilted down to watch his fingers stroke over the cloth. In his shadow on the window, Richard glimpsed the snow outside; still falling, it had changed to white, fat flakes that made it hard to see more than a few feet past the glass.

"I'm going to bed," Alec muttered, and stood, spilling the blankets around him in layers like dark blue and brown and green pieces of shell. He kicked his way out of the tangle without waiting to see if Richard followed. Richard pulled a few off the floor first for the bed; the fire was still high and the room was warm, but Alec had been right about cold coming in through the walls, and they would want the blankets later if the storm continued.

Alec curled on the far edge of his side of the bed, so that when Richard undressed and climbed between the sheets, Alec's back was turned to him, the sharp angles of Alec's shoulderblades as he huddled into himself, and his hair that seemed dark and shadowed against the white pillow. Richard lay on his back in the cool bed; Alec hadn't bothered to light the fireplace in the bedroom, and the linen was chilled, even under the warmer blankets. His last memory before sleep was the sound of the wind outside their rooms, roaring around the edges of the building with devastating force.

But sometime in the night they moved closer; it had either happened slowly or when Richard was deeply asleep, because he hadn't felt it happen. He did feel it when Alec got up, slipping out from under Richard's arm; the cool air that replaced Alec's body heat woke him. He stayed still, blinking in the faint light of very early morning, and listened to Alec's footsteps move into the other room and stop. For a while there was no other sound, and he closed his eyes again, but then the silence struck him as strange, too much, and he lifted himself on an elbow to look through the doorway. Alec was standing in front of the window, looking out; he was shivering, but Richard thought it was only from the cold; the fire had burned down to dark ash while they slept. The normal noises of the city that should be present, even at this hour, seemed missing or muted.

Alec glanced to the side, as though he felt Richard's gaze on him. Their eyes met briefly, Alec's wide and staring, before he turned silently back to the window.

Richard rolled out of bed; the wood floor under his bare feet seemed hard and cold as metal, and he huffed out a surprised breath as he walked to Alec. The view outside the window seemed wrong, until he recognized what he was looking at, everything transformed by the storm. It had left over a foot of snow on the ground, maybe as much as two, and that changed the shapes of everything, turning sharp-peaked roofs to long, low slumps, and the cobbled courtyard to a smooth, flat blanket. Icicles hung sharp and clear from the edges of windowsills and the carvings over doorfronts, but there wasn't enough light for them to sparkle, so they seemed only like dull, hollow blades. It wasn't as early as Richard had thought; the clouds hung low and thick over the city, dimming the light. He glanced automatically to the east, but there was no indication of the sun to estimate the time. What light there was seemed to come equally from every direction, from the whole sky that was hidden behind the clouds marked with swirls and streaks of grey, like the patterns left by ink spilled in water, but frozen to stillness. A little snow still marred the grey with their white lines, but it was hard to tell if it was falling from the sky or blown up off the roofs and streets.

Alec looked fascinated. "I thought you hated snow," Richard said.

"I do," Alec answered quickly, and the earnestness in his face faded as he remembered a little of his normal ironic manner. He leaned in to the window and pressed his hand against it, fingers spread wide; his breath clouded the glass in a faint white oval. He noticed, and sighed heavily, deliberately, then traced something into the mist that lingered and hid part of the city outside. Richard recognized letters, which meant nothing to him; he looked instead at Alec, who smirked as he watched the condensation slowly fade, taking whatever the word had been with it. "Look- there's no footprints. No people. There could be no one out there, Richard, the city could be empty except for us. All alone." Alec pretended to frown, but it came out sharply sarcastic, mocking both his insincerity and his absorption. "It could have been destroyed while we were asleep; they could all be dead, frozen and blue and stiff, in their empty houses like the last candy in a box, waiting for someone to come and shake them loose. Or we might be dead, and not know it. Everything has failed utterly, finally."

Richard picked up one of the blankets from the scatter forgotten by their feet and draped it over Alec's shoulders. Alec didn't seem to notice, only lifting a hand automatically to hold it in place. "They'll be back, after a while. Snow doesn't last long in Riverside. At least, not like this; it will be slush and ice by tomorrow."

"Oh. How disappointing." Alec dropped the blanket as easily as he had accepted it, and turned to Richard, putting his back to the window. He was frowning again, genuinely displeased this time, and reached out to touch Richard's arm; his fingers lingered, consideringly, and then he bent his head to kiss Richard. He tasted sour, like sleep and cheap wine; he must have been very drunk the night before, more so than Richard had realized. Richard lifted his hands to Alec's shoulders and arms, feeling the muscles shift beneath the skin as Alec mirrored the movement. His skin was still bed-warm, heated by sleep and blankets, until he put his hands on Richard's chest and his palms were cold and wet where he'd held them to the window. Richard curved his hands around to Alec's back and pulled him in, and Alec shifted to adjust, his hip brushing just above Richard's, sliding his hands up to Richard's neck, his fingers touching and twisting in the lowermost strands of Richard's hair. Alec sighed, tilting his head and licking at the corner of Richard's mouth with the tip of his tongue. "We're still alive, then," he said. His lips moved over Richard's cheek, light. "It doesn't matter. If only you would, Richard, yes, again-"

As the kisses deepened, standing became awkward, and they moved back blindly, seeking more support. Alec fell onto the window seat, pulling Richard down with him, and abruptly broke the kiss with a curse, jerking up like flexed bow. "The window- it's too cold to touch; the glass is like ice. I'd forgotten about it." His chest and stomach pressed against Richard's as he held himself away from the window, the muscles low in his back tense under Richard's hands.

"Should we-" Richard moved back, but Alec's fingers tightened on his shoulders, holding him still.

"No, never mind. It's fine." Alec kissed his mouth again, and neck, and shoulder. He eased himself back against the window in tiny steps, shuddering as he came more fully against it. Richard slid his hands up to make a barrier, feeling Alec's soft flesh against his palms and the slick, frozen glass against the back of his hands.

"Alec," Richard said. "Let's just go to bed."

Alec squirmed to dislodge Richard's hands. "No," he snapped. "I know what I'm doing; I want this." He caught Richard by the wrists and brought Richard's hands, unresisting, to his shoulders, arching his back against the window so that his neck seemed impossibly long; Richard leaned forward to taste it, and Alec's skin was hot and dry over the quick beat of his pulse. Some of Alec's hair clung to the window in thin tendrils, tugged out to straight lines when he turned his head to the side. "I'm sick of kindness. I want something I can't spoil," he said, in a low, bitter voice. Richard cautiously closed his hands over Alec's shoulders, hesitating before forcing him back against the window. Alec's fingers tightened around Richard's wrists and then loosened, slipping away; his throat slid in heavy swallows against Richard's lips. "Ah," he said. "Yes. Like that."

Richard kissed Alec's neck, pressed his tongue flat over the hard structure of his adam's apple to taste the vibrations when Alec spoke, incoherent demands and sighs that flowed relentlessly out over Richard's head. And lower: the wedge of muscle where Alec's shoulder flowed up to meet his neck seemed inviting, and Richard shifted to it, scraped his teeth over the skin. Alec shook and his voice quavered; he used his legs to hook Richard's hips and pull him closer, rolling up to rub against him. He pressed against Richard's hold, testing it, and sighed in pleasure when he couldn't break it, dropping his chin to find Richard's mouth for another kiss.

Alec was hard against the inside of Richard's hip, thrusting up in a jerky, unstable rhythm. Richard found control difficult, impossible to think of anything except how Alec trembled and moved in surges, his mouth on Richard's stealing Richard's breath. Richard pressed into angle at the top of Alec's thigh, seeking some sort of focus. He could feel the cold of the window, though he wasn't touching it himself; the snowy winter air penetrated their rooms, extending out from the window until Richard could feel both himself and Alec enclosed in the chill, though it didn't help to slow things. Alec's sweat left streaks on the glass as he moved, clear spots outlined by fog left by his body heat.

Richard moved his hands down Alec's long arms, stroking over the lean place below his bicep and above the width of his elbow, and then further down, until he had Alec's wrists in his grip, the bones just beneath the skin shifting against his palm as Alec adjusted. Richard freed one hand, keeping both the narrow wrists pinned behind the small of Alec's back, and lifted Alec's hip, pulling him down and into a different position. Alec's breath caught, and then he was panting again, making short, sharp sounds. His eyes were open, the pupils dilated, and he stared hard at Richard's face. Richard paused, his hand resting on the flat flank on the outside of the joint where Alec's hip met his thigh. "Are you all right? Did I do something wrong?"

Alec shook his head, licking his lips as he struggled to collect himself. "Don't worry, Richard. I said I wanted it; I meant it. I can stand it." He almost managed to sound typically disdainful; Richard stroked his hand up Alec's leg and back down the inside of his thigh, where the skin was softest and most delicate. Alec tensed and relaxed, straining up, his voice losing its distance again. "God, Richard. Don't stop. You mustn't stop."

Richard rubbed Alec's thigh until he moaned, and moved his hand between his legs, and kissed him; Alec's mouth seemed very slippery and eager, pressing up to suck on Richard's lower lip, catching it in his teeth when Richard pulled back. Richard lifted his hand and put his fingers in his mouth, licking them well, intending only to get them thoroughly wet. Alec, watching, threw his head back against the window, biting his lips to quiet himself.

Richard leaned into him; Alec's stomach jumped up and down as he breathed, pulsing against Richard's prick, and Alec's legs closed around Richard, locking ankles behind his back. Richard pushed one finger into Alec, careful not to hurt him. He hadn't needed to worry. Alec's whole body shivered, everywhere he was touching Richard, and he keened low in his throat. Richard added another finger, and Alec writhed.

He had to be most cautious now, just when it was hardest to remember to do so. Alec pressed himself onto Richard's fingers and contorted his back into extreme bends, his hip sliding against Richard's prick as he shuddered. Richard put his mouth to Alec's chest, where sweat beaded despite the cold. Alec was least composed at these moments, farthest from his casual scorn, but he knew it as well as Richard did, and it was easy to startle him, to scare him into thinking he'd give away whatever the secret was he was so desperate to keep. Richard didn't want to know it; he only wanted to break Alec's cool exterior for a little bit, to drive the clever, haughty scholar to buck and cry out. But even that wasn't simple. Alec was terrified, it seemed, of revealing that he was capable of being affected, of giving even that much power to anyone else. Richard only intended to please Alec, not to hurt him, but he didn't know how to tell him.

Alec clenched around Richard's fingers and came with a cry. Richard freed his hands and he curled forward, burying his face against Richard while he came back to himself, trembling in small spats. Richard pressed into him, his warmth and the friction of his body, as he took himself in hand, nearly to the end but not yet quite there. Alec's hair tickled his chin and mouth, and Richard could smell it, the harsh soap and dusty velvet of the ribbon he had it in, the faint icy scent from the window that clung to it, and underneath the musk of human and male and sex that was Alec. Richard kissed the soft strands, and tried to think of something to say. "Alec," he managed, and closed his eyes, the fullness of the name seeming too much. "Like nothing else."

Alec tightened his arms around Richard's shoulders, his fingers digging into the muscles. He lifted his mouth along Richard's neck to his jaw, his ear, and said, "Richard, hush." Richard gasped, and then didn't hear anything, and then knew that it was over.

Afterward, it was easy to convince Alec to move away from the window; he had reverted to his normal attitude to cold. Richard felt too lazy to rekindle the fire, and once under the blankets, Alec refused to leave them, but it didn't matter; the bed warmed quickly enough.
***

Comments

[tadity.livejournal.com]

♥

Should not have read this at work, but...very yummy. You've captured both of them so so well, and the dynamic of their relationship, and thank you for being such a fangirl of this book so I get this. :)

Wonderful piece.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Hee, I'm glad you liked it. But thank you for letting me talk you into reading the book.

[wesleysgirl.livejournal.com]

Oh, this is so wonderful. It makes me so happy that you're writing this pairing. Beautiful.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm very glad you like it.

[p-zeitgeist.livejournal.com]

That is simply gorgeous. I feel almost guilty about how stunning it is: how can I properly sympathize with your hatred of being cold, when it leads to results like this?

I particularly love the vision of the dead city, with the frozen people waiting to be shaken loose like old dried pieces of candy. It's so right for Alec, and at the same time so perfect for itself alone.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Hee. Well, there's no need to feel too guilty: most of the winter descriptions were written in late December and early January, when the only thing I had to complain about was that the windchill occasionally dared to deep below 50.

Thank you! I was fond of that line, so I'm very glad you liked it.

[yaoi-in-exile.livejournal.com]

Ohhh, what a treat! (Especially now that we Kentuckians are freezing our asses off after a wannabe-mini!snowstorm last night. X3!) How satisying. (Is it a bit odd that this fic gave me a mental image of Alec the Marshmellow and Richard the Mug of Hot Chocolate?

Mebbe. XD

And to think, I was expecting somebody to be tied up (or down) after the BDSM warning. >3 Ah, vhell. Next time.

Warning: because all of us fanartists have been provoked by the sheer artisticosity of the Alec-at-the-Window-Moments, there may well be fanart. In heaps and piles.

*snuggles* Wheee! Delectable as always, ma cherie! :3

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm glad you liked it! And dude, excellent new icon.

Yeah, there's really not much BDSM here at all. But I figured that it was better to err on the side of caution than accidentally offend and/or upset someone, and so I stuck a warning on. But there is likely to be more explicit BDSM fic at another time, if not by me, by someone of the other writers!

Whooo, fanfic! I am certainly glad to hear that. Alec in a window is a terribly pretty image.

[yaoi-in-exile.livejournal.com]

Oh, yus. >3 Alec and windows go together like peanut butter and sex.

Rahr, thank you! The icon likes you, too. =3

Now it is time to go throw my hat in the potential-BDSM-fic-ring! (You realize this may be the Kentucky Derby of Alec being tied to things. (Who'd believe Richard bottoming? Honestly? X3!)

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Hee! Well, I am glad to be liked by the icon.

Hooray for potential BDSM-fics! I could see Richard bottoming in other contexts, because he's often pretty passive to whatever Alec wants to do, but he doesn't strike me as having masochistic tendencies, whereas I think Alec does. Um. A lot. So yeah, I doubt the two of them would enjoy tying Richard up as much as the other way around.

[yaoi-in-exile.livejournal.com]

Oh, yes. And also the fact that Alec is just tons more creative about sex, I think. ^^;

(I've been horrible/spying/reading yours and rm's ongoing convo. It is enlightening, inspiring, and just fun.)

On the other hand, though, I can see, right where we're left at the end of Swordspoint, Richard needing to know exactly what's going on and where Alec is, and dragging him off to bed and tying him down just to get him in one place for more than five seconds.

Or, yanno, making love right in front of the door like animals. But either way, Alec's getting dragged *somewhere*. X3!

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

(Hey, feel free! We wouldn't do it in public posts if we minded other people reading.)

Ha! Yeah, I'm pretty sure there was sex happening within, like, minutes of the ending of Swordspoint. I mean after spending two weeks or so apart and each thinking that the other had left him, there's got to be some intense making-up going on!

[yaoi-in-exile.livejournal.com]

Awww. That description makes me want to go and listen to Celine Dion. (3 *squibbles* Because make-up sex is worth fighting for. >3

**Imagined Scenario**

Alec: Hello, I've brought us some fish.

Richard: **SMOOCH**

And then self-explanatory things happen! >3 Aaaaall over the room.

*le sigh* This is what happens when hormonal teenagers read Swordspoint. ^ ^;

[madcampion.livejournal.com]

OK, I'm throwing my hat into this ring, to say I'm not so sure Alec doesn't at least eventually figure out that one way he can deal with his own terrors is to top. And not from the bottom, either. In TPotS he does it with Black Rose (pages 253-254). She actually lets him, perfectly aware of what's going on. Highcombe is a little tougher to fathom. There's a suggestion that A actually hits R at the bottom of page 131, and on the next 2 pages he seems to react pretty strongly whenever he can get R to say Please to him. The question is, how far back does that go?

I think I see it in Swordspoint (page 211) where A pushes and pushes until something happens. It seems like he's trying to get R to top him or at least to attack him, but what happens instead is he breaks R down, and then, well,

"'Come here,' Alec said, His voice was long and cool like slopes of snow. 'Come to me.' . . . Alec lowered him to the floor. At first he was rough and then he was gentle."

I mean...I mean....It's right there! In the text! Or am I just a slut for pain (and close textual analysis (and seeing Master St. Vier get the sh*t kicked out of him)?

If this seems completely icky to everyone, I apologise. Forget I said anything. I would not want to jam a spike into the works of all the droolicious fiction that's been pouring out of your genius brains. But if it provokes anyone to further acts of erotic invention, well then, have at it.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Ah, see: my problem is that I never want to argue a differing opinion too strongly, and so I say things that I then have to come back and explain, "Well, I didn't actually mean it like that...". Someday I will learn to stop doing so, because I always end up regretting it.

I don't think it's icky at all; I completely agree with you. Though in an overall, general sense, their seeming preferences strike me as averaging out to Alec-bottom and Richard-top more often, I would never, ever say that the opposite arrangement doesn't occur, or that it does so only rarely. And part of that's just because I don't like it when a relationship is written as so fixed into certain, inviolate roles that the partners never switch, but also it's because I think that these guys would. The scene you quote from Swordspoint particularly- that's also totally how I read it. I'm not sure anyone could see it as anything other than Alec taking on the dominant role. (I think it's interesting, though, that you see a strike in the Highcombe scene, because I'd thought 'cry of pain' was referring to Alec being emotional. I love how that all-dialogue scene works to leave so much to the imagination. I keep wondering what exactly Richard does that makes Alec say, "Don't, you're hurting me.")

But even outside of times when we actually see Alec be dominant in the texts (which by themselves are all the evidence you need to build an argument for Alec as top, of course), the way the relationship works between him and Richard makes me think that of course he would often take the lead. I keep saying this to people, but Richard spends a lot of time being really passive toward whatever Alec wants (as in, Alec being, "let's go kill people!" and Richard being, "...Sure. Sounds like fun."; as in, Alec being, "let's go to a play!" and Richard being, "...well, alright. If you want to."; as in, Alec being, "let's go see fireworks!" and Richard being, "...well, I don't really care about them, but why not." And so on). I don't think there's any reason why this dynamic wouldn't continue in bed. You don't even need all of Alec's emotional issues and terrors (though of course that's part of this, and part of everything he does), because I can imagine a perfectly normal, content evening when Alec suddenly decides to announce, "Tonight, let's see what we can do with hot candle wax!" and pushing Richard into bed so he can experiment. And though I don't think Richard has masochistic tendencies in the way I think Alec does, I do think that Richard Really Enjoys the fact that Alec is, well, crazy, and is generally probably pretty happy to let Alec play whatever games he wants.

[yaoi-in-exile.livejournal.com]

The above is ALL COMPLETELY TRUE. =3 *applauds own leechosity*

Although, a point: we can gather from what Alec says in his and Janine's Showdown in tPotS that there was substantial physical and/or psychological abuse imposed upon him/them as children. This could be the main theory as to why he's so afraid of pain and otherwise mentally unbalanced. And because of that, something tells me that Alec might go for the tying-up part of potential BDSM-ings, but not actual hurtings. And of course I seriously doubt Richard would ever do anything to seriously hurt Alec; he loves his little spaz, and wants him happy. (You know what happens to everyone who hurts Alec. *grimaces*) Mebbe why he always whims Alec to the best of his ability? :3

Oh, goodness. I was thinking candle wax, too. XD Oh, Alec...

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

I agree with pretty much all of this (that a lot of Alec's issues have to do with childhood abuse, that Richard would have set and clear lines about what he is and is not willing to do), but I'm feeling lazy and like I'm repeating myself, so I'll just point you to a post where threewalls, rm and I had a really, really long conversation about most of these things: http://threewalls.livejournal.com/202200.html

Uh, really long. Possibly the amount of comments will cause your computer to temporarily freeze.

[rm.livejournal.com]

Again, why I'm in these comments, lord knows, but

I assumed the cry of pain was someone grabbing someone's wrists too lard, or leaning on a joint -- the type of thing that starts casual and can go mean to prove a point.

[yaoi-in-exile.livejournal.com]

All of this is potentially true: however, from the depths of the ocean emerges a theory. Have you ever noticed that in tPotS Alec is always with girlyboys or women? This could support the arguement that he tops...or it could mean that Richard is the only one he'll let fuck him. :3 (This also implies a good deal of trust, since Alec is so petrified of pain, and, well, a little pain is ever-present in mansex. ^^; This also implies a good deal of trust, as it means he trusts that Richard will not ever hurt him.)

...Physically, that is. Certainly took your time scooting your little ass back from Highcombe, St.Vier...

But yes, it makes sense that Alec does top *some* time. Our guys wouldn't be so boring as to fall into a Sex Rut. (As wordsofastory so enlighteningly pointed out. :3)

No ickyosity. Anywhere. Just brilliant, brilliant ideas that I stand up in my swivel chair and applaud. >3

[rm.livejournal.com]

Why I'm perusing these comments months after the fact is another matter, but, hi, I usually write from Richard's perspective and _totally_ agree with you.

[elfscribe5.livejournal.com]

I loved this. Beautiful use of words and images which captured the characters well. Language very reminiscent of Kushner. Richard's observation about people liking a duel in the snow - sounded just right for the shallow mores of the Hill. I loved this:
"The flakes of snow that had caught in his hair turned to water and bled down in brief, cold drops, like little shocks. He ran a hand roughly through his hair to shake them away, but they continued, sporadic and sudden."
Your love scene was very original - and I've read more than my fair share of them - and very in character.
Cheers

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm very glad you liked it- particularly the bit about the snow in Richard's hair; I was fond of that image too. And I'm happy to hear the sex worked for you. Sex scenes are always difficult to write, so I love to hear that they worked.

[bagma.livejournal.com]

Wow! It was beautiful! I particularly loved the way you describe Alec's fear of giving away his secret when Richard makes love to him, and Riverside covered in snow was magical. Thank you!

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I'm very glad you liked it.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Wow, thank you. That's some wonderful feedback.

I always enjoy a character I can use to complain about cold weather; it's more interesting than making people listening to my angst over the same topic.

I encourage fanart! Especially with Alec and windows.

[ashoka.livejournal.com]

Gorgeous. I don't think you could write a Swordspoint fic I wouldn't like.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Aww. I'm sure it's possible, but thank you anyway.

[petronia.livejournal.com]

I get the do-I-post-this-at-3AM dilemma all the time too. XD (Actually I was, uhm, up for no good reason, but I still approve of making a reminder post the next day, as it reminds me to comment when I am not so brain-dead. XD)

I'm pickier about novel-based fanfic than other canon media - I find it hard to get into the story if the writer doesn't adhere closely to the original's style - but your fics are all entirely seamless, like scenes from Swordspoint that happened not to have been published as part of the book for whatever reason (can't think why XD). This is lovely, thanks for writing. ♥

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Wow, thank you. I certaintly understand about being picky, so I feel terribly special to have done well enough to match the books.

And I'm grateful to people taking the chance to read these fics, too; my poor tiny fandom has so few people in it.

[dorkyhobbit.livejournal.com]

Ok, I'm a little late with this, but I just have to say that I've loved your YnM fics for a long time and now I discover you do 'Swordspoint' fic?! *screams of joy*

This fits in with canon very well! The prose is lovely, and matches the tone of the novel--which is a feat indeed!

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Hee. Thank you so much! There's not a lot of overlap in fandoms between YnM and Swordspoint, so I'm very glad you enjoy both of them.

[ranalore.livejournal.com]

At last, a chance to read this!

Even though she intended to give it as a prompt to someone else, it fit so well that I stole it.

Every bit of poetry is free to whomever it inspires, especially when the whomever is you and the inspiring leads to this. Not only does Alec get to speak eloquently for those of us who hate the cold, but you once again show what a perfect hand you have with these two. The interplay between them, the way it's reflected in the environment, in Alec's dreamy theorizing about the rest of the city dying (beautiful image!), and then there's the hotness of the sex, which hotness is all about it being them, doing things as they would do.

Just beautiful.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Hee, I assumed you wouldn't mind.

Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it, and I love to hear it works for you with the canon. I always appreciate characters I can use to rant about winter.

[just-ann-now.livejournal.com]

Alec was least composed at these moments, farthest from his casual scorn, but he knew it as well as Richard did, and it was easy to startle him, to scare him into thinking he'd give away whatever the secret was he was so desperate to keep. Richard didn't want to know it; he only wanted to break Alec's cool exterior for a little bit, to drive the clever, haughty scholar to buck and cry out. But even that wasn't simple. Alec was terrified, it seemed, of revealing that he was capable of being affected, of giving even that much power to anyone else. Richard only intended to please Alec, not to hurt him, but he didn't know how to tell him.

Perfect! I feel as though you've distilled their relationship down to its essence right there. Just wonderful.

(How is it that I've not read this before? It seemed to appear, as though by magic, just when I was wishing for something new and delicious. Thank you !)