Happy Birthdy lessy37!!!!
Today is a great day - it's the birthday of my best friend.
There is not much I can say I regards to my feelings and thoughts on just how much she's supported me and taken care of me and been my back for so long. We think alike and write alike and like the same stuff.
More importantly (and normally I'm very articulate when it comes to the written word, but not lately, so forgive me) we have a bond of trust and friendship that can never be replaced and has shown me what a real friend is.
I hate poetry *laughs* but this is well known and speaks the truth. Just a snippet.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever: it's loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.
John Keats.
You are a true thing of beauty, my friend. I love you to bits. May you have as much happiness and joy and kindness as you've shown me over the years, and I will always be there for you as you have been for me.
Here is a little written gift. ;)
Author: Ashley
Magnificent
warnings: slash and language
summary: set close after Holiday in the Sword 'verse. A game and only a bit of guilt.
Author's notes: for Cat.
Magnificent
I was born, I was born
To be with you in this space and time
After that and ever after
I haven't had a clue only to break rhyme
This foolishness can leave a heart black and blue, oh, oh
Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar
I was born, I was born to sing for you
I didn't have a choice but to lift you up
And sing whatever song you wanted me to
I give you back my voice from the womb
My first cry, it was a joyful noise, oh, oh
Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar
Justified, till we die you and I will magnify, oh, oh
Magnificent, magnificent, oh, oh
Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love unites our hearts
Justified, till we die you and I will magnify, oh, oh
Magnificent, magnificent, magnificent
The sound of Lance’s hand slapping the wall was comical; he released a snort through his nose and was summarily shoved against the scratchy, off-white (egg shell, Gwen said) painted wood that made Arthur’s bedroom look so neat and pristine.
Right now, the clothing and shoes and briefcase that coated Arthur’s bed and floor and chairs kept the place from being what it normally was. That forced another laugh even as he grunted as his chest and legs were knocked into the wall again.
He turned around and faced his opponent; both men were breathing heavily and Lance narrowed his eyes as Arthur advanced on him, hands out. Lance kicked out with his right foot and barely managed to scramble away from Arthur, who hissed his name and barreled after him.
“Come on, Castus,” he bit off and grinned, curling his fingers at Arthur, beckoning the other man to approach. “You want to win? Come get it.”
Lance dove to his side as Arthur charged, the flesh of his bare knee knocking into a bedside table and skidding on the rug that kept the hardwoods from being exposed. He cursed and grabbed for his leg, his eyes seeing the red on his skin and not the other man catching up to him.
“Oooof!”
Arthur’s larger bulk weighted Lancelot into the floor, but he managed to turn over onto his right side and glare up at Arthur, who was grinning evilly and panting.
“That was way too easy,” Arthur’s rich baritone rumbled in his bare chest. He planted his hands on either side of Lance’s head and slid a knee between Lance’s legs, allowing it to graze the side of Lance’s slender thigh. “I know you have some sort of retaliation plannedshit!”
Lance heard Arthur’s skull crack against the floor, and while he was sorry about the pain it must have caused, he did not pause to wonder about it. Instead, he scrambled away and perched on Arthur’s bed, the wine colored Egyptian cotton comforter allowing his feet to slide a bit. He cocked his head and watched Arthur’s movements as the other man glared at him and rubbed his quad.
“Not fair, Lance. I think you really might owe me now.”
Arthur’s brows were drawn together in one annoyed line, and his tan face was pinched and distracted. Lance rose on his knees and put his hands on his underwear clad hips. “You can’t get me. So why even bother worrying about it?”
As soon as those words were out of his mouth, Lance regretted the taunt, regretted his smirk, regretted his not paying enough attention to Arthur’s quickness, and regretted his idea to draw this out as long as he could. Arthur was on him before he could blink, and the older man’s weight once again pinned him down. This time, however, Lance couldn’t figure out a way to squirm out from under Arthur…well, there was one, but there was no way in Hell Lance would stoop so low as to execute it. Besides, he needed Arthur’s balls to be in good shape if things were to go the way he wanted them to.
The sun was long set and the lights in Arthur’s loft were dim and soft, the scent of the dinner they’d had still filling the large place. Both men smelled of garlic and sweat, and Lance wondered if this plan would be enough to distract Arthur from the conversation they’d been having before he’d challenged the other man to a ridiculous game he’d not played since college.
He hoped.
Arthur’s knees held Lance’s legs firm, and his hands were wrapped about Lance’s biceps. Arthur’s eyes twinkled in the gloom and Lance could not stop the small smile that rippled over his sharp features. He raised a hand as their breathing slowed, and touched Arthur’s jawline gently. “You need a shave,” he murmured. Arthur turned his head and nuzzled his mouth into Lance’s palm unexpectedly, so different from his earlier mode of ‘attack and destroy;’ in more ways than just the physical, Lance thought wryly as he lowered his hand to Arthur’s chest, and the place where his heart beat.
“I win,” he added softly. Arthur barked a laugh and lay full out over Lance’s lean frame; he was heavy and strong but Lance didn’t care and didn’t complain. He kept his hand between the two of them, feeling Arthur’s heart thump against his palm, and his own rapid pulse against the back of it. He managed to slide his right leg out from under Arthur’s and rubbed his foot slowly over the muscled calf that lay next to his own, Arthur’s eyes half-masting as he spoke a word quietly.
Lance wasn’t sure this time, but his name seemed to be the sound of choice lately from Arthur’s mouth, whether it was in anger, sympathy, love or worry. Most of those tones he could live without - the worry and the anger especially. The love came more infrequently and usually during times Lance didn’t expect or foresee it - neither of them had been home to share in any time much lately, especially since they’d taken up a lot of vacation time in London.
That’s what the dinner had been about, and that’s what Lance suggesting the game of strip poker had been about. Stupid, he knew, but Arthur had for once been in the silly mood and had agreed. Of course they’d both had a few glasses of wine….
Lance watched the expressions shift on Arthur’s well loved face and hated all of them. Hated the worry and the exhaustion and the fear and the doubt and the - well, fuck, he was the one that was doing this. He was the one seeing Gwen and trying to take his life and his destiny in his own hands, even if it meant making the decision for Arthur, because it would keep him safe and happy in the long run.
He squirmed and laughed, forcing the sound as he rocked his hips up just a little as Arthur’s eyes ticked down at him quickly. The other man smiled slowly and let a little shudder pass through his broad shoulders, this time Lance’s name something Lance wanted to hear on Arthur’s lips.
“Alright, you win,” Lance breathed and winced as Arthur pressed down a tad bit hard. It was a good wince though, and Arthur’s newly cut hair brushed Lance’s cheek as the other man lowered his head and stuck his nose into Lance’s neck. “Hrm,” Arthur finally said. “Considering I have only my socks left, how do we determine who’s won? You’ve only got these,” he continued, his finger sliding into the waistband of Lance’s boxer briefs, “but I’ve got two socks on. Shouldn’t that count more than the one undergarment?”
Lancelot laughed; a true one, for only Arthur would use a word that old fashioned. He snorted and took the opportunity to move both legs around Arthur’s thighs and gripped tightly, letting the other man feel said undergarment against his own bare groin. “Well, two is more than one, but if I wore your socks on my … instead of my ‘undergarment,’ I would have less coverage. Therefore I should win. But since you’ve played so nicely,” his eyes slid shut for a moment as Arthur’s hard body molded to his own, the older man’s lips playing a tune they’d not played for a long time against Lance’s skin, “I’m willing to compromise. If just for your sake and your pride.”
Arthur raised his head, although he did it slowly and while dragging his lips over each part of Lance’s skin that he passed. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to,” he breathed, his lips a mere millimeter from Lance’s. “Heaven forbid you accuse me of using sex to make you do something you had no inkling of doing.” The curl of the corner of Arthur’s mouth touching Lance’s forced a zing of want through his entire frame, the warm bed and the even warmer large man that covered him heating his flesh and his soul and his entire being.
Lance found Arthur’s hand that was still touching his hip, heat radiating from the fingertips directly into Lance’s bones. He used that hand and his own to drag his undergarment (he laughed again) down his legs and to his ankles. He managed to gracefully kick them off his feet and raised his knees again so he was clamping Arthur in place, their arousals touching, the friction caused by even breathing enough to make Lance flutter his eyelids and roll his lips inward briefly.
“Too long,” he whispered and Arthur nodded, their foreheads touching. He moved a bit, reaching to take off his socks, and Lance stayed his hand with a shake of his head. He smiled, a tiny impish thing.
“Leave them on.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose but he smiled back and did as requested.
“You win, remember?” Lance added a moment later, the sentence ending on a long sigh as Arthur rose up over him, pushing Lance’s legs up so his knees were bent as far as they could go, heels touching his buttocks. Arthur’s hands trailed down Lance’s arms, positioning them out at Lance’s sides as if he were stretched between two ropes.
Or partially crucified. Lance blinked and shoved that idea right out of his head, especially when Arthur’s lips were drawing down his chest to the spot just below his belly button, the tender flesh jumping and quivering when the rough full mouth toyed with it.
Lance’s neck cracked as he arched it uncontrollably, the ceiling swimming into view, the lamp in the room reflecting oddly red and gold on the white of the paint. He moaned, Arthur’s name coming easily to him as the other man rubbed his chin over the soft hair that traced around Lance’s erection, the chuckle Arthur released vibrating the bed and Lance’s body.
“Mmmff,” he bit off as Arthur’s lips encircled the head of his cock, his arms extending to their full length, his biceps pulling painfully as he gripped at the comforter and the burgundy sheets that stuck out from the sides. The bed was slightly a disaster, what with the clothing and the briefcase that - “Fuck, sorry,” Lance stammered as Arthur’s heavy leather bag slammed to the floor, the noise causing the other man to let go of Lance’s arousal and look over the edge of the mattress.
“Arthur.” Lance’s hand reached of its own accord to Arthur’s hair and jerked his head back rather forcefully into the vicinity of his aching groin. “It’s fine. Just, Jesus.”
“I am not divine,” Arthur murmured, his tongue straying out to lick over the underside of Lance’s good lord, could it get any harder and the other man smiled, a wicked thing. “I am merely in love with you.”
“Oh, god,” Lance breathed and shuddered and let out a sound that made Arthur lift his lips off his cock again. Lance moaned and raised his head in order to stare at Arthur, his face red and flushed, his eyes tearing. “I love you too, but, oh GOD.” He knocked his knees against Arthur’s head. “Please suck me. Please? Stop pausing, please please.”
A full throated laugh from Arthur and an eyeroll. Lance was about to add that he’d do anything, including replaying the game to make certain Arthur won when the other man complied and took Lance into his mouth, finally.
A few motions of Arthur’s head combined with Lance moving his hips and begging for quicker, no, right there, no wait faster Arthur had Lance about to finish - thank god - but he shot up into a sitting position when Arthur yanked his mouth away from his cock and was suddenly kneeling between Lance’s thighs.
Arthur’s expression was oddly hard and cold and he grabbed for Lance and after a minute struggle, Lance was on his face on the soft bedding and Arthur was inside him faster than he could even say ‘yes.’
No time for stretching or foreplay or anything that might make things a little more comfortable, but they had been here before and Lance, after a few gasps and shifts got to a place where he could only feel Arthur’s belly against his back and the other man’s hands on his arms, lifting him to his knees as Arthur’s body possessed every inch of his.
He leaned forward enough to hold his trembling hands against the wall and allowed the other man to take what he wanted, the fill and burn of Arthur’s cock in his flesh, despite the initial discomfort and surprise, a thing that had been missing for far too many weeks.
The bed shook and squeaked comically and Lance laughed unexpectedly and tossed his head back, his hair tangling in Arthur’s lips as the other man panted and spoke nasty words to him - things he’d never expect to hear from Arthur, except they made sense now - and that had him harder than he had been when he’d been in Arthur’s mouth. Lance searched wildly for Arthur’s hand with one of his, and growled at the other man when he wouldn’t let go of Lance’s hips.
“If you don’t touch me I’ll get the fuck off this bed and touch myself. And you’d best bet you won’t be involved,” he hissed in Arthur’s ear, the other man’s cheek scraping his as Arthur tried to fuck him through the mattress. Arthur cursed, a long list of ugly things strangely spoken in Arthur’s melodic voice as he managed to let go of Lance’s bony hip, Lance sure he’d have marks there in the morning.
Strong thick fingers surrounded Lance’s arousal and he allowed his knees to collapse a little, letting Arthur take some of his weight onto his quadriceps. They both panted and traded insults and swore and Arthur’s hand pulled and tormented and Arthur’s flesh joined with Lance’s and Lance raised his head and squeezed his eyes shut and shouted Arthur’s name as loudly as he could as the fingers that held him circled tightly and moved at a speed Lance could not keep up with. He felt the warmth on his belly and the slickness that made Arthur’s hand slide even faster and he called out Arthur again.
The noise the bed made become one long ridiculous squeal and Arthur grunted and tightened every muscle. Every muscle clamped onto Lancelot and Arthur froze for a delicious, breathless moment, his body literally locked over Lance’s - and he sunk his teeth into the meat of Lance’s shoulder hard enough to bruise and shuddered and cried out and jerked his hips so hard and fast Lance leaned forward and let his vision be blinded by the pillows that surrounded them.
The fingers that wrapped around Lance’s cock tugged a few more times but let go only after Lance whimpered and begged with a wordless sound. He flailed an arm out, his weak impulse control now totally gone, and Lance felt the lamp by the bed topple under his motion as Arthur finally slowed and released the grip of his mouth. The room was plunged into darkness as Arthur relaxed into a boneless mass against Lance’s back, the two men still joined bodily as Lance let the sweat that dripped down his spine and face soak into Arthur’s skin and the bed.
Swallowing heavily, Lance shoved at Arthur exhaustedly as the muscles of his thighs began to tighten painfully and the other man slowly removed himself from Lance’s flesh, both of them groaning helplessly at the change in sensation.
They both flopped where they were, and lay crosswise to one another on the bed, the briefcase and the lamp down for the count, the bedding, pillows and discarded clothing wildly moved and thrown about. After some minutes of recovery, Lance dragged himself to his elbows and stared down the length of his body to Arthur, who had an arm flung over his eyes and seemed to be asleep, although his erection was still half awake. Lance snorted when he caught sight of Arthur’s feet, one sock still bravely clinging to its place.
Arthur moved his arm with great effort and squinted at Lance through the gloom. “Did you break my lamp?” he asked after clearing his throat. “Because if that’s the case, I think you owe me more than just a new pair of socks and a replayed game.”
Lance shimmied his way down the bed and picked up the foot that was bare, bending Arthur’s leg so he could plant a small kiss on the top of Arthur’s toes. “Tragic,” he said as he lowered the foot and lay his head over Arthur’s shins, looking up at the other man. “That a pair of socks could be sacrificed in so great a war.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as Arthur suddenly sat up and grabbed him, pulling him with him to the head of the bed where they both collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Arthur’s left knee bent and Lance rested his back against it, his side pressed to Arthur’s chest as his arms went around the other man’s broadness. He felt strong if shaky arms encircle him and he closed his eyes as he nuzzled into the heat and smell of Arthur, his Arthur, still his. For now, even if Gwen didn’t agree and had forced ideas into Lance’s head that he didn’t like - rather, hated - and yet agreed with.
“I love you.” Arthur’s words were soft but solid and his heat and presence were such a balm that Lance relaxed more than he had in months and forgot about his ideas for the way Arthur would be able to move on - safely - from him and the whole Benoit family.
“I love you, Lancelot.”
“I know,” Lance answered sleepily. “My own. We are. Love you.”
They could be sappy and sentimental and loving with each other when they were like this, and Lance could forget for two seconds his plans and what was right and wrong. He could forget the inflicted pain and the damaging arguments and the meanness and intolerance from both of them. He could forget that their destiny and free will were intertwined and did not become separate entities - not theirs. Never theirs. All that had gone and would come was set and Lance pressed his lips to Arthur’s chest and did not worry about it because it was already too late.
The poor broken lamp flickered once and Arthur’s laugh lulled Lance to sleep in the warm lie of a safe embrace.
~
There is not much I can say I regards to my feelings and thoughts on just how much she's supported me and taken care of me and been my back for so long. We think alike and write alike and like the same stuff.
More importantly (and normally I'm very articulate when it comes to the written word, but not lately, so forgive me) we have a bond of trust and friendship that can never be replaced and has shown me what a real friend is.
I hate poetry *laughs* but this is well known and speaks the truth. Just a snippet.
A thing of beauty is a joy forever: it's loveliness increases, it will never pass into nothingness.
John Keats.
You are a true thing of beauty, my friend. I love you to bits. May you have as much happiness and joy and kindness as you've shown me over the years, and I will always be there for you as you have been for me.
Here is a little written gift. ;)
Author: Ashley
Magnificent
warnings: slash and language
summary: set close after Holiday in the Sword 'verse. A game and only a bit of guilt.
Author's notes: for Cat.
Magnificent
I was born, I was born
To be with you in this space and time
After that and ever after
I haven't had a clue only to break rhyme
This foolishness can leave a heart black and blue, oh, oh
Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar
I was born, I was born to sing for you
I didn't have a choice but to lift you up
And sing whatever song you wanted me to
I give you back my voice from the womb
My first cry, it was a joyful noise, oh, oh
Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love can heal such a scar
Justified, till we die you and I will magnify, oh, oh
Magnificent, magnificent, oh, oh
Only love, only love can leave such a mark
But only love, only love unites our hearts
Justified, till we die you and I will magnify, oh, oh
Magnificent, magnificent, magnificent
The sound of Lance’s hand slapping the wall was comical; he released a snort through his nose and was summarily shoved against the scratchy, off-white (egg shell, Gwen said) painted wood that made Arthur’s bedroom look so neat and pristine.
Right now, the clothing and shoes and briefcase that coated Arthur’s bed and floor and chairs kept the place from being what it normally was. That forced another laugh even as he grunted as his chest and legs were knocked into the wall again.
He turned around and faced his opponent; both men were breathing heavily and Lance narrowed his eyes as Arthur advanced on him, hands out. Lance kicked out with his right foot and barely managed to scramble away from Arthur, who hissed his name and barreled after him.
“Come on, Castus,” he bit off and grinned, curling his fingers at Arthur, beckoning the other man to approach. “You want to win? Come get it.”
Lance dove to his side as Arthur charged, the flesh of his bare knee knocking into a bedside table and skidding on the rug that kept the hardwoods from being exposed. He cursed and grabbed for his leg, his eyes seeing the red on his skin and not the other man catching up to him.
“Oooof!”
Arthur’s larger bulk weighted Lancelot into the floor, but he managed to turn over onto his right side and glare up at Arthur, who was grinning evilly and panting.
“That was way too easy,” Arthur’s rich baritone rumbled in his bare chest. He planted his hands on either side of Lance’s head and slid a knee between Lance’s legs, allowing it to graze the side of Lance’s slender thigh. “I know you have some sort of retaliation plannedshit!”
Lance heard Arthur’s skull crack against the floor, and while he was sorry about the pain it must have caused, he did not pause to wonder about it. Instead, he scrambled away and perched on Arthur’s bed, the wine colored Egyptian cotton comforter allowing his feet to slide a bit. He cocked his head and watched Arthur’s movements as the other man glared at him and rubbed his quad.
“Not fair, Lance. I think you really might owe me now.”
Arthur’s brows were drawn together in one annoyed line, and his tan face was pinched and distracted. Lance rose on his knees and put his hands on his underwear clad hips. “You can’t get me. So why even bother worrying about it?”
As soon as those words were out of his mouth, Lance regretted the taunt, regretted his smirk, regretted his not paying enough attention to Arthur’s quickness, and regretted his idea to draw this out as long as he could. Arthur was on him before he could blink, and the older man’s weight once again pinned him down. This time, however, Lance couldn’t figure out a way to squirm out from under Arthur…well, there was one, but there was no way in Hell Lance would stoop so low as to execute it. Besides, he needed Arthur’s balls to be in good shape if things were to go the way he wanted them to.
The sun was long set and the lights in Arthur’s loft were dim and soft, the scent of the dinner they’d had still filling the large place. Both men smelled of garlic and sweat, and Lance wondered if this plan would be enough to distract Arthur from the conversation they’d been having before he’d challenged the other man to a ridiculous game he’d not played since college.
He hoped.
Arthur’s knees held Lance’s legs firm, and his hands were wrapped about Lance’s biceps. Arthur’s eyes twinkled in the gloom and Lance could not stop the small smile that rippled over his sharp features. He raised a hand as their breathing slowed, and touched Arthur’s jawline gently. “You need a shave,” he murmured. Arthur turned his head and nuzzled his mouth into Lance’s palm unexpectedly, so different from his earlier mode of ‘attack and destroy;’ in more ways than just the physical, Lance thought wryly as he lowered his hand to Arthur’s chest, and the place where his heart beat.
“I win,” he added softly. Arthur barked a laugh and lay full out over Lance’s lean frame; he was heavy and strong but Lance didn’t care and didn’t complain. He kept his hand between the two of them, feeling Arthur’s heart thump against his palm, and his own rapid pulse against the back of it. He managed to slide his right leg out from under Arthur’s and rubbed his foot slowly over the muscled calf that lay next to his own, Arthur’s eyes half-masting as he spoke a word quietly.
Lance wasn’t sure this time, but his name seemed to be the sound of choice lately from Arthur’s mouth, whether it was in anger, sympathy, love or worry. Most of those tones he could live without - the worry and the anger especially. The love came more infrequently and usually during times Lance didn’t expect or foresee it - neither of them had been home to share in any time much lately, especially since they’d taken up a lot of vacation time in London.
That’s what the dinner had been about, and that’s what Lance suggesting the game of strip poker had been about. Stupid, he knew, but Arthur had for once been in the silly mood and had agreed. Of course they’d both had a few glasses of wine….
Lance watched the expressions shift on Arthur’s well loved face and hated all of them. Hated the worry and the exhaustion and the fear and the doubt and the - well, fuck, he was the one that was doing this. He was the one seeing Gwen and trying to take his life and his destiny in his own hands, even if it meant making the decision for Arthur, because it would keep him safe and happy in the long run.
He squirmed and laughed, forcing the sound as he rocked his hips up just a little as Arthur’s eyes ticked down at him quickly. The other man smiled slowly and let a little shudder pass through his broad shoulders, this time Lance’s name something Lance wanted to hear on Arthur’s lips.
“Alright, you win,” Lance breathed and winced as Arthur pressed down a tad bit hard. It was a good wince though, and Arthur’s newly cut hair brushed Lance’s cheek as the other man lowered his head and stuck his nose into Lance’s neck. “Hrm,” Arthur finally said. “Considering I have only my socks left, how do we determine who’s won? You’ve only got these,” he continued, his finger sliding into the waistband of Lance’s boxer briefs, “but I’ve got two socks on. Shouldn’t that count more than the one undergarment?”
Lancelot laughed; a true one, for only Arthur would use a word that old fashioned. He snorted and took the opportunity to move both legs around Arthur’s thighs and gripped tightly, letting the other man feel said undergarment against his own bare groin. “Well, two is more than one, but if I wore your socks on my … instead of my ‘undergarment,’ I would have less coverage. Therefore I should win. But since you’ve played so nicely,” his eyes slid shut for a moment as Arthur’s hard body molded to his own, the older man’s lips playing a tune they’d not played for a long time against Lance’s skin, “I’m willing to compromise. If just for your sake and your pride.”
Arthur raised his head, although he did it slowly and while dragging his lips over each part of Lance’s skin that he passed. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to,” he breathed, his lips a mere millimeter from Lance’s. “Heaven forbid you accuse me of using sex to make you do something you had no inkling of doing.” The curl of the corner of Arthur’s mouth touching Lance’s forced a zing of want through his entire frame, the warm bed and the even warmer large man that covered him heating his flesh and his soul and his entire being.
Lance found Arthur’s hand that was still touching his hip, heat radiating from the fingertips directly into Lance’s bones. He used that hand and his own to drag his undergarment (he laughed again) down his legs and to his ankles. He managed to gracefully kick them off his feet and raised his knees again so he was clamping Arthur in place, their arousals touching, the friction caused by even breathing enough to make Lance flutter his eyelids and roll his lips inward briefly.
“Too long,” he whispered and Arthur nodded, their foreheads touching. He moved a bit, reaching to take off his socks, and Lance stayed his hand with a shake of his head. He smiled, a tiny impish thing.
“Leave them on.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose but he smiled back and did as requested.
“You win, remember?” Lance added a moment later, the sentence ending on a long sigh as Arthur rose up over him, pushing Lance’s legs up so his knees were bent as far as they could go, heels touching his buttocks. Arthur’s hands trailed down Lance’s arms, positioning them out at Lance’s sides as if he were stretched between two ropes.
Or partially crucified. Lance blinked and shoved that idea right out of his head, especially when Arthur’s lips were drawing down his chest to the spot just below his belly button, the tender flesh jumping and quivering when the rough full mouth toyed with it.
Lance’s neck cracked as he arched it uncontrollably, the ceiling swimming into view, the lamp in the room reflecting oddly red and gold on the white of the paint. He moaned, Arthur’s name coming easily to him as the other man rubbed his chin over the soft hair that traced around Lance’s erection, the chuckle Arthur released vibrating the bed and Lance’s body.
“Mmmff,” he bit off as Arthur’s lips encircled the head of his cock, his arms extending to their full length, his biceps pulling painfully as he gripped at the comforter and the burgundy sheets that stuck out from the sides. The bed was slightly a disaster, what with the clothing and the briefcase that - “Fuck, sorry,” Lance stammered as Arthur’s heavy leather bag slammed to the floor, the noise causing the other man to let go of Lance’s arousal and look over the edge of the mattress.
“Arthur.” Lance’s hand reached of its own accord to Arthur’s hair and jerked his head back rather forcefully into the vicinity of his aching groin. “It’s fine. Just, Jesus.”
“I am not divine,” Arthur murmured, his tongue straying out to lick over the underside of Lance’s good lord, could it get any harder and the other man smiled, a wicked thing. “I am merely in love with you.”
“Oh, god,” Lance breathed and shuddered and let out a sound that made Arthur lift his lips off his cock again. Lance moaned and raised his head in order to stare at Arthur, his face red and flushed, his eyes tearing. “I love you too, but, oh GOD.” He knocked his knees against Arthur’s head. “Please suck me. Please? Stop pausing, please please.”
A full throated laugh from Arthur and an eyeroll. Lance was about to add that he’d do anything, including replaying the game to make certain Arthur won when the other man complied and took Lance into his mouth, finally.
A few motions of Arthur’s head combined with Lance moving his hips and begging for quicker, no, right there, no wait faster Arthur had Lance about to finish - thank god - but he shot up into a sitting position when Arthur yanked his mouth away from his cock and was suddenly kneeling between Lance’s thighs.
Arthur’s expression was oddly hard and cold and he grabbed for Lance and after a minute struggle, Lance was on his face on the soft bedding and Arthur was inside him faster than he could even say ‘yes.’
No time for stretching or foreplay or anything that might make things a little more comfortable, but they had been here before and Lance, after a few gasps and shifts got to a place where he could only feel Arthur’s belly against his back and the other man’s hands on his arms, lifting him to his knees as Arthur’s body possessed every inch of his.
He leaned forward enough to hold his trembling hands against the wall and allowed the other man to take what he wanted, the fill and burn of Arthur’s cock in his flesh, despite the initial discomfort and surprise, a thing that had been missing for far too many weeks.
The bed shook and squeaked comically and Lance laughed unexpectedly and tossed his head back, his hair tangling in Arthur’s lips as the other man panted and spoke nasty words to him - things he’d never expect to hear from Arthur, except they made sense now - and that had him harder than he had been when he’d been in Arthur’s mouth. Lance searched wildly for Arthur’s hand with one of his, and growled at the other man when he wouldn’t let go of Lance’s hips.
“If you don’t touch me I’ll get the fuck off this bed and touch myself. And you’d best bet you won’t be involved,” he hissed in Arthur’s ear, the other man’s cheek scraping his as Arthur tried to fuck him through the mattress. Arthur cursed, a long list of ugly things strangely spoken in Arthur’s melodic voice as he managed to let go of Lance’s bony hip, Lance sure he’d have marks there in the morning.
Strong thick fingers surrounded Lance’s arousal and he allowed his knees to collapse a little, letting Arthur take some of his weight onto his quadriceps. They both panted and traded insults and swore and Arthur’s hand pulled and tormented and Arthur’s flesh joined with Lance’s and Lance raised his head and squeezed his eyes shut and shouted Arthur’s name as loudly as he could as the fingers that held him circled tightly and moved at a speed Lance could not keep up with. He felt the warmth on his belly and the slickness that made Arthur’s hand slide even faster and he called out Arthur again.
The noise the bed made become one long ridiculous squeal and Arthur grunted and tightened every muscle. Every muscle clamped onto Lancelot and Arthur froze for a delicious, breathless moment, his body literally locked over Lance’s - and he sunk his teeth into the meat of Lance’s shoulder hard enough to bruise and shuddered and cried out and jerked his hips so hard and fast Lance leaned forward and let his vision be blinded by the pillows that surrounded them.
The fingers that wrapped around Lance’s cock tugged a few more times but let go only after Lance whimpered and begged with a wordless sound. He flailed an arm out, his weak impulse control now totally gone, and Lance felt the lamp by the bed topple under his motion as Arthur finally slowed and released the grip of his mouth. The room was plunged into darkness as Arthur relaxed into a boneless mass against Lance’s back, the two men still joined bodily as Lance let the sweat that dripped down his spine and face soak into Arthur’s skin and the bed.
Swallowing heavily, Lance shoved at Arthur exhaustedly as the muscles of his thighs began to tighten painfully and the other man slowly removed himself from Lance’s flesh, both of them groaning helplessly at the change in sensation.
They both flopped where they were, and lay crosswise to one another on the bed, the briefcase and the lamp down for the count, the bedding, pillows and discarded clothing wildly moved and thrown about. After some minutes of recovery, Lance dragged himself to his elbows and stared down the length of his body to Arthur, who had an arm flung over his eyes and seemed to be asleep, although his erection was still half awake. Lance snorted when he caught sight of Arthur’s feet, one sock still bravely clinging to its place.
Arthur moved his arm with great effort and squinted at Lance through the gloom. “Did you break my lamp?” he asked after clearing his throat. “Because if that’s the case, I think you owe me more than just a new pair of socks and a replayed game.”
Lance shimmied his way down the bed and picked up the foot that was bare, bending Arthur’s leg so he could plant a small kiss on the top of Arthur’s toes. “Tragic,” he said as he lowered the foot and lay his head over Arthur’s shins, looking up at the other man. “That a pair of socks could be sacrificed in so great a war.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled as Arthur suddenly sat up and grabbed him, pulling him with him to the head of the bed where they both collapsed in a tangle of limbs. Arthur’s left knee bent and Lance rested his back against it, his side pressed to Arthur’s chest as his arms went around the other man’s broadness. He felt strong if shaky arms encircle him and he closed his eyes as he nuzzled into the heat and smell of Arthur, his Arthur, still his. For now, even if Gwen didn’t agree and had forced ideas into Lance’s head that he didn’t like - rather, hated - and yet agreed with.
“I love you.” Arthur’s words were soft but solid and his heat and presence were such a balm that Lance relaxed more than he had in months and forgot about his ideas for the way Arthur would be able to move on - safely - from him and the whole Benoit family.
“I love you, Lancelot.”
“I know,” Lance answered sleepily. “My own. We are. Love you.”
They could be sappy and sentimental and loving with each other when they were like this, and Lance could forget for two seconds his plans and what was right and wrong. He could forget the inflicted pain and the damaging arguments and the meanness and intolerance from both of them. He could forget that their destiny and free will were intertwined and did not become separate entities - not theirs. Never theirs. All that had gone and would come was set and Lance pressed his lips to Arthur’s chest and did not worry about it because it was already too late.
The poor broken lamp flickered once and Arthur’s laugh lulled Lance to sleep in the warm lie of a safe embrace.
~