FIC: Lost and Found
Oct. 13th, 2011 10:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zaubraFandom: UK Politics
Title: Lost and Found
Ship(s): Michael Gove/David Laws/James Lundie, David Laws/James Lundie
Word Count: 2,051
Rating: R, for explicit sex
Summary: Scandal and succour, friendship and something more. Written for the Gove rare!pair party at the meme; can be read as an extension of the Gove/Laws/Lundie vignette from Liberal Democratia is a Foreign Country, but can also be read as a stand-alone.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
Lost and Found
"Michael Gove is arguably the most charming, courteous member of the Tory shadow cabinet and is clearly someone who is well-educated, thoughtful and seems to have a passion for some of the education brief." – David Laws, 30 March 2010
“I feel incredibly sad, I think that David is an incredibly talented guy and I got to know him when he was the Liberal Democrats’ education spokesman and then he was someone who was completely non tribal in the way he approached politics; he was thoughtful, he was idealistic, he was in politics for all the right reasons...I'm terribly sorry that this has happened and I feel incredibly sorry as well that his desire to maintain privacy, which I absolutely respect, has been damaged by this and I just hope over the course of the next few days and weeks that people rally round and recognise that this is a very difficult personal time for David and I also hope, as both the Prime Minister and the Deputy Prime Minister have said, that once the whole process of looking into this has been concluded that people recognise that David has got a tremendous amount to offer the country...he is a really decent guy.” – Michael Gove, 30 May 2010
~//~
Sometimes when Michael makes a move, he’s nervous. Sometimes he’s not quite sure if he’s read the signals correctly. Sometimes he’s bracing himself for a punch to the face.
Not this time.
He’s watched David over the months they’ve both shadowed Education, and he’s as sure as he’s ever going to be that an overture from him will not be received badly. David’s shy, to be sure, but when his eyes flick away it’s because Michael has caught him watching; when he looks uncomfortable, it’s because Michael has thrown back his head to laugh, offering his unprotected neck; when he swallows hard, it’s because Michael has wet his lips.
So when Michael leans down one evening, leans down and kisses him, gentle and skilful and open, he’s prepared for the moment of shock. He’s prepared for the subsequent rush of motion, as David’s hand comes up into his hair, tight and demanding, as David takes control. He’s prepared for the urgency of teeth, the battle of tongues, the burn of air in his lungs.
He’s not prepared for the moment, a few seconds later, when David’s hands fall to his shoulders, pushing him away.
“No,” David says against his mouth.
Michael pulls back, because refusal is sacrosanct, but he knows his bewilderment will show on his face. Perhaps David just means that here is not a good place, although Michael has picked his spot wisely. Perhaps the next words will be directions to a rendezvous.
David’s eyes are dark, his mouth bitten, and Michael swallows, resisting the urge to close the distance again.
“No,” David says, his eyes locked with Michael’s. He doesn’t sound angry, but neither does he sound regretful. “I’m sorry, but no.”
And Michael finds himself left standing there, as David turns and walks out, without a backward look.
Michael leans against the wall. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he tells the empty room.
~//~
All becomes clear soon enough – after the election, after Michael’s offer to give up Education to David if it’ll help a coalition deal, after they receive their Cabinet assignments and begin the difficult job of getting the country out of the mess it’s in. The Daily Telegraph breaks the story, and David makes his statement.
Michael sits in his office and stares at the stories, at the succinct encapsulation of love and fear, at the uproar of the media firestorm and the quiet dignity of David himself.
He picks up the phone, but sets it down again after a moment. The last thing David needs right now is another telephone call, another voice to interpret – is this one sincere, or calling to gloat?
He goes on Sunday Live with Adam Boulton, and does his best to communicate his support for David and his regret at David’s resignation.
He holds Sarah in bed at night and thinks about how lucky he is, that his choice of mate was acceptable to the Great British Public; thinks about how that Public would turn on him in an instant, if they ever learned the reality that is his loving, happy, open marriage; thinks about the expenses scandal, and his own failures there – life, and love, and sacrifice – David’s white face, as the papers clamoured for blood.
Sarah murmurs in her sleep and turns her face into his shoulder. He kisses her hair.
~//~
He calls a week later, when the media has claimed its scalp and begun to move on.
“We saw your comments,” David’s landlord-turned-partner says, slowly. “Did you really say that you were ‘incredibly sad’ that David had to resign?”
“I am incredibly sad,” Michael says. “David was an important asset to the government. I’ve always admired him.”
James makes a sceptical noise.
Michael lets a little indignation into his tone. “When we were planning the coalition, I offered to let David have Education! I offered to let him have my own Cabinet post. If that doesn’t tell you something about how much I esteem your partner, I don’t know what would.”
There is silence on the other end for a minute. Michael lets it grow. He loves to talk, but he also knows when to be quiet.
Finally, James clears his throat. “David told me about the time you kissed him.”
“Ah,” Michael says, and bites back an inappropriate laugh. “Yes. Well, you see, I had no idea that he was in a relationship at the time.”
“David also says,” James says, in what Michael suspects is a deceptively mild voice, “that you have a bit of a reputation in Parliament.”
“I hope not,” Michael says, sitting up straighter. “I try to be discreet.”
James laughs, a sharp percussive sound. “With all due respect, Minister, I hardly know you and yet I don’t think discreet is an adjective that describes you very well.”
Michael winces. “Two things. First, please call me Michael. Second, your information comes from David, who is possibly the most discreet politician I have ever known, so I’m bound to come out the worse by comparison.”
This time, James’s laugh is slightly friendlier.
“I really didn’t know David was in a relationship,” Michael adds.
“Obviously,” James said. “No one did.” He pauses. “I’m not angry with you. It scared David, that you had apparently figured out that he was gay, but it also made him feel a bit more welcome in the coalition. And your support this week in the media has been helpful.”
“Anything I can do,” Michael says, and means it. “Just let me know. I really do think he’s a talented politician, and I hope to see him back very soon. And I’m not just saying that because I think he’s gorgeous,” he adds, hurriedly.
James laughs again. It’s a throaty laugh, rich and free. It pushes an answering smile onto Michael’s face. “Do you really think so?”
“I do,” Michael says, and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “The way his eyes light up when he’s excited, and the way his hair sometimes escapes from that stern side part...”
“Hmm,” James says.
~//~
James opens the door for him. Michael’s eyes widen involuntarily. He’s seen James’s photograph in the media, but that slightly awkward shot didn’t capture the animation of his face, the smile lines around his eyes, or the softness of his hair. David has done well for himself.
James puts his finger to his lips, eyes sparkling, and Michael follows him down the corridor, stepping quietly.
They stop beside a closed door. James raps on it. “David? Are you still working?”
“Nearly done,” David says, sounding distracted. “I just want to read these reports.”
“Later,” James says, and smiles mischievously at Michael. “I’ve brought you a surprise.”
Silence on the other side of the door. Then the pad of footsteps. “What sort of...”
The door opens, and Michael is looking down at David. He’s wearing his glasses, and his hair is more rumpled than Michael’s ever seen it. In fact, he’s not even wearing a suit, which for some reason robs Michael’s mouth of moisture.
David blinks up at him. “Gove?”
Michael’s going to let James get this one. Michael’s been turned down by this man before, and he really, really doesn’t want to be this time.
“I thought,” James says, and he sounds almost shy, “that we could have dinner together.”
David looks narrowly at Michael for a few moments, then directs a wry glance at James. “Dinner isn’t what either of you have in mind, is it?”
“I...I thought...just dinner, if...if you want...”
Michael suppresses the urge to fidget.
“You know I’m not,” David starts, and the gentle tone in his voice, directed at James, makes Michael wince. He knows where this is going. Time to step in.
He swivels, and takes in the downcast look on James’s face. It makes him pause for a moment, realising how much the situation has affected James as much as Michael. David’s stopped talking when Michael turned, so there is silence as Michael reaches out a hand and tips James’s face up toward him.
When James meets his eyes, Michael smiles at him, sharp and challenging. He thinks James may have had enough of gentle. “Shall we show him what he’s missing?”
The shadow in James’s eyes tucks itself away, and the corners of his mouth turn up.
Michael steps into his space, leans in, breathes “May I?” against those laughing lips.
James doesn’t answer, just shoves a hand in his hair and presses their lips together.
Michael loves this part – the rush of blood in his veins, the feeling of another person pressed up against him, the narrowing of the world to points of contact and gasps of air, the newness and familiarity all wrapped up together.
He hears David’s harsh breath behind them, feels the weight of David’s stare, and knows – even before David steps into the corridor and closes the door behind him – that they’ve won.
~//~
In the aftermath of the scandal, some people in the gossipy halls of Westminster took David’s quiet circumspection as inexperienced and submissive. Homophobic twats made crude jokes about David’s sexual preferences; more sympathetic types were heard to remark that it was hardly fair that David had had to resign, as his landlord had surely taken advantage of his innocence and shyness.
Whatever the truth about David’s experience or inexperience – and Michael frankly doesn’t care – the rumour mill has one thing decidedly wrong. There isn’t a submissive bone in David’s body.
“Suck,” David says, guiding Michael’s head to James’s cock.
“Make him moan,” David says, as he pops the top on the lube bottle, as Michael hollows his cheeks and sucks, as James’s head thrashes against the pillow.
“Relax,” David says, sliding two fingers into Michael all at once, sure and firm.
“Open for me,” David says, adding a third finger, pressing a kiss to Michael’s back, seeking and finding Michael’s prostate.
Michael gasps around James’s cock, and does as he’s told.
~//~
David is on his back, looking up at Michael. David’s face, always so guarded, is still calm. Michael knows he wouldn’t be so calm if his partner’s fingers were sliding a condom down his cock, while another man hovered above him, waiting to slide on. But David lies there, hands on Michael’s hips, lips parted, and his eyes sparkle but his face is as controlled as ever.
“Ready,” James says from behind him, and Michael lets his eyes flutter closed, lets himself begin to lower down, lets himself fall into the moment.
David’s cock is hot and thick inside him, and Michael grins as it slowly fills him, stretches him. This is what he loves – slip of sweat, smell of musk, sound of panting; the feeling of hands on him, pulling and pushing, touching and caressing; the taste of cock in his mouth and the pulse of cock in his arse.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily,” David says, and Michael thrills at the way the words catch in his mouth, coming out just a bit more strained. Even David is not entirely immune.
David’s hands are reaching up to Michael’s arms, pulling him down. Michael goes willingly, not sure what is going to happen, but sure that it will be enjoyable.
“You can take both of us, can’t you?” David says in his ear, and the breath catches in Michael’s throat, and he’s not sure whether the moan he hears is his or James’s.
“Yes,” he says, and he knows he sounds desperate and wanton, and he’s glad, glad, glad.
~//~
There is so much lube, and so much sensation, and Michael is drowning.
And then James pushes inside, inch by slow inch, and Michael is flying.
~//~
James pants, somewhere above, almost sobbing, doing his best to thrust, never finding a rhythm; but perhaps that’s best, a rhythm would be too much, too much.
Michael’s sight is blurred, swimming and dancing and blurring. When he manages to focus, all he sees is David’s face – open and broken and flushed, lost and found. He’s done that. They’ve done that.
Michael kisses him, soft and gentle, simple press of lips. Anything more would be too much, with both of them inside him and his cock trapped, throbbing and aching.
David’s hand tangles in his hair.
He’s not sure which of them is crying.
~//~
Title: Lost and Found
Ship(s): Michael Gove/David Laws/James Lundie, David Laws/James Lundie
Word Count: 2,051
Rating: R, for explicit sex
Summary: Scandal and succour, friendship and something more. Written for the Gove rare!pair party at the meme; can be read as an extension of the Gove/Laws/Lundie vignette from Liberal Democratia is a Foreign Country, but can also be read as a stand-alone.
Disclaimer: This is a creative work of fiction, composed of fictional characters inspired by the public personas of living people. No injury or disrespect is intended to the persons named. If you've found this by googling yourself or someone you know, stop playing on the Internet and go run the country.
Lost and Found
"Michael Gove is arguably the most charming, courteous member of the Tory shadow cabinet and is clearly someone who is well-educated, thoughtful and seems to have a passion for some of the education brief." – David Laws, 30 March 2010
“I feel incredibly sad, I think that David is an incredibly talented guy and I got to know him when he was the Liberal Democrats’ education spokesman and then he was someone who was completely non tribal in the way he approached politics; he was thoughtful, he was idealistic, he was in politics for all the right reasons...I'm terribly sorry that this has happened and I feel incredibly sorry as well that his desire to maintain privacy, which I absolutely respect, has been damaged by this and I just hope over the course of the next few days and weeks that people rally round and recognise that this is a very difficult personal time for David and I also hope, as both the Prime Minister and the Deputy Prime Minister have said, that once the whole process of looking into this has been concluded that people recognise that David has got a tremendous amount to offer the country...he is a really decent guy.” – Michael Gove, 30 May 2010
~//~
Sometimes when Michael makes a move, he’s nervous. Sometimes he’s not quite sure if he’s read the signals correctly. Sometimes he’s bracing himself for a punch to the face.
Not this time.
He’s watched David over the months they’ve both shadowed Education, and he’s as sure as he’s ever going to be that an overture from him will not be received badly. David’s shy, to be sure, but when his eyes flick away it’s because Michael has caught him watching; when he looks uncomfortable, it’s because Michael has thrown back his head to laugh, offering his unprotected neck; when he swallows hard, it’s because Michael has wet his lips.
So when Michael leans down one evening, leans down and kisses him, gentle and skilful and open, he’s prepared for the moment of shock. He’s prepared for the subsequent rush of motion, as David’s hand comes up into his hair, tight and demanding, as David takes control. He’s prepared for the urgency of teeth, the battle of tongues, the burn of air in his lungs.
He’s not prepared for the moment, a few seconds later, when David’s hands fall to his shoulders, pushing him away.
“No,” David says against his mouth.
Michael pulls back, because refusal is sacrosanct, but he knows his bewilderment will show on his face. Perhaps David just means that here is not a good place, although Michael has picked his spot wisely. Perhaps the next words will be directions to a rendezvous.
David’s eyes are dark, his mouth bitten, and Michael swallows, resisting the urge to close the distance again.
“No,” David says, his eyes locked with Michael’s. He doesn’t sound angry, but neither does he sound regretful. “I’m sorry, but no.”
And Michael finds himself left standing there, as David turns and walks out, without a backward look.
Michael leans against the wall. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he tells the empty room.
~//~
All becomes clear soon enough – after the election, after Michael’s offer to give up Education to David if it’ll help a coalition deal, after they receive their Cabinet assignments and begin the difficult job of getting the country out of the mess it’s in. The Daily Telegraph breaks the story, and David makes his statement.
Michael sits in his office and stares at the stories, at the succinct encapsulation of love and fear, at the uproar of the media firestorm and the quiet dignity of David himself.
He picks up the phone, but sets it down again after a moment. The last thing David needs right now is another telephone call, another voice to interpret – is this one sincere, or calling to gloat?
He goes on Sunday Live with Adam Boulton, and does his best to communicate his support for David and his regret at David’s resignation.
He holds Sarah in bed at night and thinks about how lucky he is, that his choice of mate was acceptable to the Great British Public; thinks about how that Public would turn on him in an instant, if they ever learned the reality that is his loving, happy, open marriage; thinks about the expenses scandal, and his own failures there – life, and love, and sacrifice – David’s white face, as the papers clamoured for blood.
Sarah murmurs in her sleep and turns her face into his shoulder. He kisses her hair.
~//~
He calls a week later, when the media has claimed its scalp and begun to move on.
“We saw your comments,” David’s landlord-turned-partner says, slowly. “Did you really say that you were ‘incredibly sad’ that David had to resign?”
“I am incredibly sad,” Michael says. “David was an important asset to the government. I’ve always admired him.”
James makes a sceptical noise.
Michael lets a little indignation into his tone. “When we were planning the coalition, I offered to let David have Education! I offered to let him have my own Cabinet post. If that doesn’t tell you something about how much I esteem your partner, I don’t know what would.”
There is silence on the other end for a minute. Michael lets it grow. He loves to talk, but he also knows when to be quiet.
Finally, James clears his throat. “David told me about the time you kissed him.”
“Ah,” Michael says, and bites back an inappropriate laugh. “Yes. Well, you see, I had no idea that he was in a relationship at the time.”
“David also says,” James says, in what Michael suspects is a deceptively mild voice, “that you have a bit of a reputation in Parliament.”
“I hope not,” Michael says, sitting up straighter. “I try to be discreet.”
James laughs, a sharp percussive sound. “With all due respect, Minister, I hardly know you and yet I don’t think discreet is an adjective that describes you very well.”
Michael winces. “Two things. First, please call me Michael. Second, your information comes from David, who is possibly the most discreet politician I have ever known, so I’m bound to come out the worse by comparison.”
This time, James’s laugh is slightly friendlier.
“I really didn’t know David was in a relationship,” Michael adds.
“Obviously,” James said. “No one did.” He pauses. “I’m not angry with you. It scared David, that you had apparently figured out that he was gay, but it also made him feel a bit more welcome in the coalition. And your support this week in the media has been helpful.”
“Anything I can do,” Michael says, and means it. “Just let me know. I really do think he’s a talented politician, and I hope to see him back very soon. And I’m not just saying that because I think he’s gorgeous,” he adds, hurriedly.
James laughs again. It’s a throaty laugh, rich and free. It pushes an answering smile onto Michael’s face. “Do you really think so?”
“I do,” Michael says, and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “The way his eyes light up when he’s excited, and the way his hair sometimes escapes from that stern side part...”
“Hmm,” James says.
~//~
James opens the door for him. Michael’s eyes widen involuntarily. He’s seen James’s photograph in the media, but that slightly awkward shot didn’t capture the animation of his face, the smile lines around his eyes, or the softness of his hair. David has done well for himself.
James puts his finger to his lips, eyes sparkling, and Michael follows him down the corridor, stepping quietly.
They stop beside a closed door. James raps on it. “David? Are you still working?”
“Nearly done,” David says, sounding distracted. “I just want to read these reports.”
“Later,” James says, and smiles mischievously at Michael. “I’ve brought you a surprise.”
Silence on the other side of the door. Then the pad of footsteps. “What sort of...”
The door opens, and Michael is looking down at David. He’s wearing his glasses, and his hair is more rumpled than Michael’s ever seen it. In fact, he’s not even wearing a suit, which for some reason robs Michael’s mouth of moisture.
David blinks up at him. “Gove?”
Michael’s going to let James get this one. Michael’s been turned down by this man before, and he really, really doesn’t want to be this time.
“I thought,” James says, and he sounds almost shy, “that we could have dinner together.”
David looks narrowly at Michael for a few moments, then directs a wry glance at James. “Dinner isn’t what either of you have in mind, is it?”
“I...I thought...just dinner, if...if you want...”
Michael suppresses the urge to fidget.
“You know I’m not,” David starts, and the gentle tone in his voice, directed at James, makes Michael wince. He knows where this is going. Time to step in.
He swivels, and takes in the downcast look on James’s face. It makes him pause for a moment, realising how much the situation has affected James as much as Michael. David’s stopped talking when Michael turned, so there is silence as Michael reaches out a hand and tips James’s face up toward him.
When James meets his eyes, Michael smiles at him, sharp and challenging. He thinks James may have had enough of gentle. “Shall we show him what he’s missing?”
The shadow in James’s eyes tucks itself away, and the corners of his mouth turn up.
Michael steps into his space, leans in, breathes “May I?” against those laughing lips.
James doesn’t answer, just shoves a hand in his hair and presses their lips together.
Michael loves this part – the rush of blood in his veins, the feeling of another person pressed up against him, the narrowing of the world to points of contact and gasps of air, the newness and familiarity all wrapped up together.
He hears David’s harsh breath behind them, feels the weight of David’s stare, and knows – even before David steps into the corridor and closes the door behind him – that they’ve won.
~//~
In the aftermath of the scandal, some people in the gossipy halls of Westminster took David’s quiet circumspection as inexperienced and submissive. Homophobic twats made crude jokes about David’s sexual preferences; more sympathetic types were heard to remark that it was hardly fair that David had had to resign, as his landlord had surely taken advantage of his innocence and shyness.
Whatever the truth about David’s experience or inexperience – and Michael frankly doesn’t care – the rumour mill has one thing decidedly wrong. There isn’t a submissive bone in David’s body.
“Suck,” David says, guiding Michael’s head to James’s cock.
“Make him moan,” David says, as he pops the top on the lube bottle, as Michael hollows his cheeks and sucks, as James’s head thrashes against the pillow.
“Relax,” David says, sliding two fingers into Michael all at once, sure and firm.
“Open for me,” David says, adding a third finger, pressing a kiss to Michael’s back, seeking and finding Michael’s prostate.
Michael gasps around James’s cock, and does as he’s told.
~//~
David is on his back, looking up at Michael. David’s face, always so guarded, is still calm. Michael knows he wouldn’t be so calm if his partner’s fingers were sliding a condom down his cock, while another man hovered above him, waiting to slide on. But David lies there, hands on Michael’s hips, lips parted, and his eyes sparkle but his face is as controlled as ever.
“Ready,” James says from behind him, and Michael lets his eyes flutter closed, lets himself begin to lower down, lets himself fall into the moment.
David’s cock is hot and thick inside him, and Michael grins as it slowly fills him, stretches him. This is what he loves – slip of sweat, smell of musk, sound of panting; the feeling of hands on him, pulling and pushing, touching and caressing; the taste of cock in his mouth and the pulse of cock in his arse.
“Don’t think you’re getting out of this that easily,” David says, and Michael thrills at the way the words catch in his mouth, coming out just a bit more strained. Even David is not entirely immune.
David’s hands are reaching up to Michael’s arms, pulling him down. Michael goes willingly, not sure what is going to happen, but sure that it will be enjoyable.
“You can take both of us, can’t you?” David says in his ear, and the breath catches in Michael’s throat, and he’s not sure whether the moan he hears is his or James’s.
“Yes,” he says, and he knows he sounds desperate and wanton, and he’s glad, glad, glad.
~//~
There is so much lube, and so much sensation, and Michael is drowning.
And then James pushes inside, inch by slow inch, and Michael is flying.
~//~
James pants, somewhere above, almost sobbing, doing his best to thrust, never finding a rhythm; but perhaps that’s best, a rhythm would be too much, too much.
Michael’s sight is blurred, swimming and dancing and blurring. When he manages to focus, all he sees is David’s face – open and broken and flushed, lost and found. He’s done that. They’ve done that.
Michael kisses him, soft and gentle, simple press of lips. Anything more would be too much, with both of them inside him and his cock trapped, throbbing and aching.
David’s hand tangles in his hair.
He’s not sure which of them is crying.
~//~
