[Open Post] ..only want to glean the purpose..

[lanselos_du_lac]

Since they learned of Shen Yuan's death, things have been subdued; rightly so, Lancelot reasons. He has done what he can to be a support for those he loves, and to keep his own worry and anxiety at bay. He worries about how they are all doing, about whether or not they are safe, about what he can do to make anything better -- which often feels like nothing. It's unsettling, and he wants to stay settled and present for them, so he determines to find a way to be so.

As has always been the case for him, being outside helps. The weather is warming and true spring is settling in. (He has difficulty keeping track of what time may be like back in Britain¹, but he suspects that it is early summer there. If so, then he supposes that means he is another year older, which is a strangely hopeful thought.) And so, after his lunch with Susan, he heads back out -- he might ride, or walk through the woods, or explore the lake. Whatever keeps him out in the sunshine, under the sky.



^{1: He has not quite realized this yet, but he has generally stopped thinking "at home" when he means Camelot, or Britain in general. That this place -- no, these people -- have become home in so short a span is something he has to take by degrees, lest he worry about what it means for his relationship with those he left behind there.}

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[timebethine]

Laertes's hand settles lightly at Lancelot's hip. "Say me nay, and I'll await that promised night," he says. His lips graze Lancelot's jaw, then his pulsepoint. "But an thou stay me not, I will not ask again."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gazes at him for a long moment before he says, "I've no wish to say thee nay."

[timebethine]

Laertes holds that gaze, and for all his teasing, his expression is as solemn as a vow. He lets Lancelot see his adoration, his gratitude, his trembling hope--then he leans up to kiss Lancelot's lips, and he lets his hand fall between them.

[lanselos_du_lac]

Afterwards, as Lancelot is trying to put himself back together (quite a task, given that he is feeling approximately seventeen different things, and all of them remarkably good), he says easily, "Christ. I wasn't expecting that today."

[timebethine]

"Nor I! But I can't bring myself to regret it." Laertes is, it must be said, sitting significantly closer--his legs draped over Lancelot's lap, his arms wound possessively around Lancelot's neck.

[lanselos_du_lac]

This is a very pleasant arrangement, and Lancelot lets his arm settle about Laertes' waist. "No," softly, "regret is not a part of this."

[timebethine]

A soft, welling laugh. "I feel light as thistle-down. I want to fall asleep in thine arms, and wake only to taste the pleasure of thee again."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Well, I've no reason to move just now, so if that is thy wish, then do so."

[timebethine]

"But what of thee? How dost thou? What wouldst thou?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot reaches up to cup Laertes' cheek. "I am very well. A little... dizzy, almost. But that is joy. I wish mothing more than to stay here with thee a while longer."

[timebethine]

"I love thee." He nestles into Lancelot's hand, nuzzling in until he can kiss Lancelot's palm. "I feel as though I must burst into song, or start dancing or weeping; I want to do a hundred brave things, and wear thy colors, and earn thy praise."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Thou wouldst look well in my colors," brushing his thumb along Laertes' cheek, "but needst do nothing to earn my praise, for I already have plenty for thee."

[timebethine]

"Oh? Say on; I'd hear thee."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Mmm, well," his tone turning indulgent. He gathers Laertes a little closer. "Thou knowest I find thee fair -- the way thy hair curls, and how thy joy, when thou'rt happy, is apparent. I think from the first I found it hard to keep my eyes from following thee."

[timebethine]

"From the very first? From when I first sparred with thee?"

[lanselos_du_lac]

"Aye, just so-- though I could not quite place it. And then I think I believed thou didst dislike me. Respected me-- but didst not like me."

[timebethine]

"I didn't," Laertes admits. "I was a fool--I knew thee not."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot gives a tiny shrug and says easily, "It is a common reaction, when first meeting me."

[timebethine]

"I wanted to impress thee. I wanted thee to see me, and be held arrested--to admire me, and envy me." With a fond roll of his eyes, "How easily the vantage of several months reveals to me mine own o'erweening pride."

[lanselos_du_lac]

Lancelot smiles, "I did all of those things, save envy thee. I was still, then, Britain's finest knight and none could best me. What use had I for envy?"

[timebethine]

"Nay, there are better sins," says Laertes, with a light kiss to the point of Lancelot's Adam's apple. "Lust looks well on thee; perhaps I can inspire thee to greed--"

[lanselos_du_lac]

A grin, "Need they be separate?"

[timebethine]

Laughing, "Nay, they're an alloy made stronger for the synthesis. Put me to the test, sir; I'll equal thine appetite."

[lanselos_du_lac]

"How might one blend them?" He leans in to kiss Laertes' neck this time.

[timebethine]

That kiss sends a warm little thrill of pleasure sparking across Laertes's skin; he gets his knees under him so that he can sit astride Lancelot's lap, and he fists his hand in Lancelot's hair to force his head back. "Let me taste every part of thee," he says, leaning in to repay that kiss in kind. His teeth just barely graze Lancelot's skin. "Hold nothing back. Take all that thou wouldst have."