There were a few minutes left before the Duronas arrived, and Gregor sat on his couch, fully dressed for the evening. He was looking forward to the dinner; the Duronas were fascinating to him, because their hive mind was such a contrast to his very isolated one. They were distinct people, but very single-minded about the path they were on. And Miles would be there, of course. It already seemed understood that Miles would stay after the Duronas left, not for the night most likely, but for at least enough time to...
Gregor was thrilled with how easily things were going. Miles' presence enlivened him in ways he'd never guessed... perhaps because he really had never expected Miles to say Yes. Gregor had had fantasies and daydreams about Miles for a long time, but they were more about things happening than how Gregor would feel about them happening. The effect Miles had on Gregor's feelings was profound, and Gregor was learning that he didn't need to -- couldn't, really -- censor his feelings around Miles. Nonetheless, he proceeded carefully, because he was so unpracticed in letting someone else see him fully. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time.
It was also obvious to Gregor that he and Miles were going to end up in bed, and probably very soon. Maybe even tonight. While Gregor was very eager about it, there was something that he imagined would be very difficult for him.
Miles' first death was written out on his body, in the form of scars from his cryo-revival, and Gregor became more than a little unhinged over the topic of Miles' death, first or future. Gregor had realized how much of a problem this could be when he'd kissed Miles in the Residence kitchen a few nights before. Miles had pulled back slightly when Gregor went to take a brief nibble at the side of Miles' neck. Gregor hadn't really noticed the thin, relatively fresh scars running down each side of Miles' neck before, but at that moment, he'd connected them to the cryo-revival. Gregor had nearly lost his nerve, but Miles had pulled him back into another kiss, and... well, Gregor didn't exactly forget the scars, but he was sufficiently distracted to let the matter go.
Gregor hadn't seen Miles even partially undressed in probably 10 or 15 years. He certainly hadn't seen Miles undressed since his resurrection (though the other evening at Vorkosigan house, Gregor had managed to slip his hands up Miles' shirt, and Miles had returned the favor with a wicked grin.) Miles' eventual bare chest would put his scars, the ultimate evidence of just how close Gregor had come to losing him, up close and very, very personal.
As he'd done before, Gregor coped by rehearsing. He'd realized at some point that he'd learned this skill first from Cordelia Vorkosigan, appropriately enough. When his mother had died, and he -- at barely 5 years old -- was expected to light his 3rd funeral pyre in just a few months, he'd melted down. Cordelia had asked him to imagine doing it, and then given him the tools so he could do some trial runs, but he'd refused until she promised that she'd help him, that she'd be there right with him the whole time. When it came time, he was still scared -- he remembered, now, asking her if "they" were going to kill him too, and her fierce reply of "No. I won't let them." -- but he'd held the taper steady, with Cordelia's hand to guide him. Since then, he'd found the strategy of rehearsal very useful, even though things often didn't follow what he'd rehearsed exactly.
In his "rehearsal," Gregor imagined himself unbuttoning Miles' shirt and pushing it aside with the most tender care. Next had come a setting -- initially Gregor's favorite, most private gazebo on the Residence grounds, the one covered with climbing roses and clematis in the summer. However, as it became apparent that he and Miles weren't going to stay... chaste until summer, the setting had shifted, naturally, to Gregor's large, comfortable, but heretofore lonely bed. Gregor imagined himself looking, and touching, and kissing whatever he would find on Miles' chest. From there, things tended to get quite... interesting, in various ways.
The more he rehearsed this scene in his mind, the more reassured Gregor felt. After all, Miles had come back from the dead, and showed no sign of returning any time soon. And he seemed completely open to Gregor's advances. It had been so unexpected, Gregor still boggled at it.
At that point Gregor's thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of his armsman Flavion. "The Duronas are just arriving, Sire." Gregor let the images go, and went to meet his guests.
About halfway to the entrance hall, Gregor asked Flavion if Lord Vorkosigan had arrived yet. "No, Sire... He called to say he was delayed -- he mentioned something about kitten hair and ruined uniforms -- and said he'd be on his way very soon."