Lancelot returns it with the same sweetness, but as it draws out he considers. What is it that is giving him pause? He does not mind pain, though he doesn't think he finds it thrilling in the way Laertes seems to. Perhaps it's the question of power, though he has no objections to being commanded or to doing as he is asked.
He thinks, briefly, of games of praise or cruelty... of denial and he supposes that's at the core of it. He does not wish to play at cruelty, or denial; he thinks Laertes understands this and knows why he might feel that way. But Laertes wasn't suggesting cruelty, just now -- he was suggesting play, enticement. Once again, Lancelot is being too guarded, he thinks.
Lancelot breaks the kiss, gently, and pulls back a little. His expression, under that persistent blush, is softly sincere. "I think," he says quietly, "I was too careful, just now. Thou'rt sweet in thy care. But-- I can bear up under force, or an edge, an I am certain it is done lovingly... not a first step toward something more hurtful."
no subject
He thinks, briefly, of games of praise or cruelty... of denial and he supposes that's at the core of it. He does not wish to play at cruelty, or denial; he thinks Laertes understands this and knows why he might feel that way. But Laertes wasn't suggesting cruelty, just now -- he was suggesting play, enticement. Once again, Lancelot is being too guarded, he thinks.
Lancelot breaks the kiss, gently, and pulls back a little. His expression, under that persistent blush, is softly sincere. "I think," he says quietly, "I was too careful, just now. Thou'rt sweet in thy care. But-- I can bear up under force, or an edge, an I am certain it is done lovingly... not a first step toward something more hurtful."