[Closed Post] ..lines we're leaving behind..

[lanselos_du_lac]

He doesn't really mean to, but Lancelot keeps to his rooms for a time in the wake of the latest mansion upheaval. He doesn't disappear for days, and he mostly keeps his routines -- he does spend a little more time riding -- but he is subdued and not idly floating about for socializing.

It could have been worse. He knows this. He knows, too, that no one did this on purpose; he's grateful for Susan and Nightingale's understanding. But none of that makes it easier to regain his emotional balance. Much like that day (which felt very long), he is still grappling occasionally with that sensation of being... just outside of himself, a step removed, dizzy and longing to be even further away.

Still, he does not want to punish Susan and he knows they should talk. So this morning after he puts up Rivelin, he goes to find Susan, wherever she might be.

Comments

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan cranes her neck to the side, giving Lancelot better access. The dance she's doing is less a series of specific, purposeful steps, and more just swaying in Lancelot's arms, shuffling them in a slow, close circle.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He moves with her, but takes this as the invitation it is. He kisses her jaw, the spot behind her ear, her collarbone.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

She gives a calculated wiggle, letting her robe fall loosely open; as she runs her hands down his back, she pushes his robe with it, too, until the sleeves are puddled around his forearms and its back is stretched around his waist.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs softly, drawing her a fraction closer.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan is pretty sure that whatever they're doing can't accurately be called dancing, anymore, but she's not bothered. When she tilts her head back, her hair falls loose again, cascading down, still tangled from earlier.

[lanselos_du_lac]

She is so lovely like this that he cannot help but look at her with that glowing, slightly dazzled look he sometimes gets. He bands to kiss her again, one hand settling at the small of her back.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

His touch - and their movements - have caused her own robe to slip off further; it would be so terribly easy to let it fall. She kisses him back, clinging and slow, and pulls away with a smile.

"I'll take the next item on your list now," she teases, cupping his cheek with one hand.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot laughs softly, all delight and warmth, "Very well. Thou'rt a fine archer, and it is impressive how thou dost practice with several kinds of bow. It makes me glad, and more, to watch thee. I shall have to take up the bow more often as well, if I'm to have any hope of keeping pace with thee."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"You haven't," Susan says, mock-seriously. "I'm much too talented to be bested by any man." Then she smiles up at him, impish and uncomplicatedly happy. "Have you noticed I've got more muscles now? I'd forgotten how different archery is to swimming."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I have," running a hand over her shoulder, down her arm, "and I do not doubt you will put me to shame, whenever we have our martial contest."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Only at range," Susan laughs. "I'm pitiful in close quarters."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I disagree," teasingly.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I'm not fighting you, though, am I?" Susan asks, her eyes now shining with mischief. "Though I suppose I might try and best you, if you'd like."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I would spar with thee, but not fight thee," in a tone that makes it clear he's going along with whatever mischief she has planned.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"Oh dear," says Susan, unable to tamp down on her smile. "I seem to have been ensnared by the most notorious and incorrigible of dog-knappers in all of Brittany. Whatever shall I do?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Ensnared, she says," sliding his arm tighter around her waist. "What indeed?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I suppose I have no recourse but to protect myself to the utmost of my ability," she says, thoughtfully, now failing to refrain from shivering at his touch. Don't kiss him yet, she chides herself, even though she wants very much to do so; instead, she runs her hands down his sides and then, experimentally, tickles him lightly.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He jolts a little, laughing, "Oh, lady-- foul play!"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I'm improving my close-quarter combat skills," says Susan, primly, tickling him with more purpose now that she knows it's going to work. Oh no, she's accidentally untied his robe. Ah, well, the better to tickle him with. She pulls the belt free with one hand, letting the end of it run lightly over his skin.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He is ticklish, which feels like a surprise to him, and he's still laughing. "Improvement, Christ-- art deadly already."

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Susan's fingers are wicked and bold - she's got years of distracting, delighting, and infuriating her siblings in this way under her belt. This, obviously, is a different sort of tickling, with different objectives, but her hands are small and she knows where to put them for maximum effect. She starts edging forward, too, pushing him toward the wall.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot lets himself be pushed, swatting gently at her hands.

[quote_gentle_unquote]

Her robe is also getting in the way; she pushes it to the floor, where it puddles next to his. "You shan't get the better of me," she tells him, catching one of his hands in hers and threading their fingers together. She uses this leverage to push his hand against the wall, digging her other into what she's determined is his most ticklish area.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gasps, his laugh growing breathless, "Am I to beg thy mercy?"

[quote_gentle_unquote]

"I expect a full accounting of my strengths with notes for improvement after I have defeated you," says Susan, and then, musingly, "How shall I keep such a formidable man from fighting back?" and then, "I suppose I must ensure his hands are too full to make an attempt." And she moves his hand to her thigh, flings her arms around his neck, and gives a little hop - to suggest that he ought to catch her and pick her up.