[Closed Post] ..shining through the hollow..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Once Lancelot has left Magnus and Galahad in the greenhouse, he goes looking for Laertes. He can admit he has had the urge to check in on everyone, in the wake of Magnus' incident, but he has realized that it's been some days and he misses Laertes' company.

So he goes seeking, checking in on the places he thinks Laertes might be, and eventually finding him in that same parlor they'd sat together in before. Lancelot pauses in the doorway, and then clears his throat and says, "I do hope I'm not interrupting."

Despite the clear fact that he intends to interrupt. He is grinning.

Comments

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot is clearly touched by this, and gives him a little smile. But the smile quirks as he says, "Here, now, we are free from those expectations that fenced us. I would do as thou sayest, but I would also have us learn what pleases us, what is possible. Perhaps that is selfish, too, but an we do no harm... we should do as we wish."

[timebethine]

"That is not selfishness; they are not so much as countrymen, let alone kinsmen," says Laertes. "What pleases thee? Teach me; I long to know it."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I am still learning, myself," combing his fingers through Laertes' hair again. "I like compliments. I like to linger at kissing. I like thy hands on me, and the feeling that we are an equal match. I love to spar with thee, and when thou didst use tyy strength, I liked that, too."

[timebethine]

"Didst like to be overpowered?" asks Laertes, very softly. He finds Lancelot's other hand and links their fingers together; his pulse thunders in all the places where they touch.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He squeezes Laertes' hand. "I did."

[timebethine]

"I like to be useful," says Laertes. He closes his eyes and leans in to rest his cheek against Lancelot's, pulse still drumming in his ears. "I like to be of service--and to know what's expected of me, and to do it. There's nothing better than knowing I've done well by one I love."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot holds him, one hand still in his hair. "Hast ever done well by me."

He is thinking, though, about the various ways he thinks Laertes might mean this.

[timebethine]

"Further yet, I will not draw thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gives a little laugh, curling Laertes' hair around his fingers. "What meanst thou?"

[timebethine]

"Only that some things that please me, please me carnally, and I would not set such an expectation upon thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Oh," another one of those slightly surprised sounding responses, as understanding dawns. "This is something else Magnus was asking -- but I think 'twas part of the teasing."

[timebethine]

"Oh?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot makes an expressive face of annoyance (mildly fond). "He asked me about my saying that I was bound to the Queen. Whether that meant bound by rope, tied, as if one cannot be bound by words or love. And asked would I like for one of thee to do so-- and I said I was not sure how it appealed. Which was true. It is hard for me to picture. Hast any knowledge of that?"

[timebethine]

Laertes can't help laughing, a deep rib-shaking laugh that Lancelot will be able to feel in his bones. "Ay, I do. Some of my lovers like to see me decked in ropes, and some, I prefer to see bound."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He smiles at the laugh, clear affection in his eyes. "Explain, please?"

[timebethine]

"Ay--there are many things to like in it," says Laertes. "There's an art to tying knots well, so that they'll bind without sapping the blood or chafing the skin. But more than that, there's an art of adornment in it, too; one lover likes to wind ropes as though they're the finest of jewelry, and the patterns that they make across the skin are beautiful in themselves, in a way that need not heat the blood. That skill alone is worth admiring, and it's one I've yet to master." His smile shades warmer, fonder, as he moves from abstraction to specific memories. "And there is a kind of joy--a release, I should say--in being bound. Nothing can be expected of thee but thy pleasure and thine endurance. There is no escape from thy lover's affections; there can be no room for doubt. Thou canst only be, and yet thou art enough."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I see," he is rolling all of this over in his mind. "I think I understand, now, how it may appeal."

[timebethine]

"Wouldst try it for thyself?" His tone is all calm curiosity, without the slightest lilt of titillation.

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I think I might," tentatively, "If I knew well what to expect."

[timebethine]

He would be so beautiful in ropes--kneeling, beatific and sanctified, tilting his face up to receive the praises that are his due. A shudder of want goes through Laertes, but he swiftly quells it. Lancelot would not thank him for the distraction. Once he's mastered himself again, he asks, "Didst thou have other questions?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"No," slowly, "no, I think not now. Hast given me much to consider."

[timebethine]

A long pause. Laertes is keenly aware of the sound of their breathing. "Wouldst thou have more to consider?" he asks, low.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He laughs again, low and soft, and turns a little towards him. "Hast something to offer me?"

[timebethine]

"A few other games, much of a kind with that one." He unlaces their fingers, only to sneak his fingertips into the cuff of Lancelot's sleeve and trace the veins of his wrist.

[lanselos_du_lac]

That sends gooseflesh chasing across his skin. It's very pleasant.

"Tell me, and I shall decide."