[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.

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[timebethine]

And Laertes lets it be sweet--lets himself ask nothing of it but that he might bask a while in the slow, unspooling joy of being kissed; lets himself be held and tasted and known. He folds his hands over Lancelot's back, crossed at the wrists, gently caressing through his clothes.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He draws the kiss out. There is a faintly heated, frantic edge to it; as it winds down a little, Lancelot cups Laertes' face in his hands and says, "I know I am simple. But I crave thee-- my heart longs for thee."

[timebethine]

"Then have me," says Laertes. His breath gusts over Lancelot's lips; his pulse throbs against Lancelot's, throat to wrist. "Let it be simple."

[lanselos_du_lac]

At this, Lancelot moves, shifting to straddle his waist, kissing him more forcefully. One hand is still in Laertes' hair and the other settles just over Laertes' heart, firm on his chest.

[timebethine]

It would be too much to seize him by the hair and reel him in. It would be far too much to take his hips in both hands and rock up into the solid weight of him. But even so, held suspended over the pit of his desires, Laertes can't help a low and feeling groan that's nearly swallowed up in Lancelot's hungry mouth.

He wants this with every inch of him. He feels ablaze with wanting. His grip tightens, turning sharp and clutching, and he drinks Lancelot down.

[lanselos_du_lac]

For all that he feels for Laertes, all his desire, there is still that coiled tension of anxiety somewhere deep within him. At the sound Laertes makes, though, Lancelot feels that tension loosen.

He lets himself relax, let himself feel and revel in the heat that courses through him. He lets go of the anxiety, the inclination to watch himself, to monitor, and instead pours all of his attention, his focus, into Laertes -- how Laertes feels under him, the heat of his mouth and the warmth of his skin.

[timebethine]

Time seems to flow slowly, without bounds, like a spill of oil across the water or a sunrise nudging over the horizon. Laertes only lets go when he's dizzy and breathless; his eyes are half-closed, his smile huge and soft and utterly smitten.

[lanselos_du_lac]

That look is terribly appealing, and Lancelot can't stop himself from kissing the corner of that smile.

[timebethine]

"I love thee," says Laertes--as though it's a declaration of no particular moment; as though he has never judged whether it is too much or too soon.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Softly, with another little kiss, "Say on."

[timebethine]

"What should I say?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot's fingers combs through Laertes' hair, "Tell me of thy love. What sparks it in thee."

[timebethine]

"Thy sweetness, and thy steadfastness," says Laertes at once. "How thou wilt always think of others before thyself--and I love thy laugh, and how shy thou art, and when a blush graces thee, here." He brushes his thumb over the bridge of Lancelot's nose.

[lanselos_du_lac]

He smiles, laughing a little, "Do I blush there?"

[timebethine]

"Thou dost--it's very faint."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"I did not know." He's blushing now, in fact, at the thought that Laertes has paid enough attention to notice such a detail.

[timebethine]

"I like to see thee easy," he says, and cants his head into Lancelot's touch. "In summer, I would like to see thee lain upon the grass in the sun, with no care but to soak it in."

[lanselos_du_lac]

He strokes the skin behind Laertes' ear, giving him a little smile. "I would be glad to do so, for thee. Dost ride?"

[timebethine]

"I do--not so well as Sagramore, but few do."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"In summer, my favorite thing is to go riding. To find some spot that feels hidden," he smiles. "Though at court we do not typically go by twos."

[timebethine]

"No? Well, we have but two horses, so we'll have to go by twos."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Fenyes may be on rest, by summer. I fear I do not understand the seasons here. Nonetheless, I would take thee riding."

If there is something of a wistful cast to this, he hardly realizes it.

[timebethine]

"With a glad heart--if Fenyes is on rest, thy horse is sound enough to bear us both."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, that is so." He pauses, grinning at him. "But which of us would ride pillion?"

[timebethine]

With mild mischief in his eyes, Laertes asks, "Wouldst rather sit behind me, and hold me? Or be held?"