"Hast been so good," Laertes whispers. "Hast pleased me so well, my heart." He feels hazy and warm, a little awed at the readiness of Lucien's submission. He had expected teasing and defiance, and braced himself to balance kindness with authority--but the power to offer praise is its own kind of authority, and one that he's all too happy to wield. Lucien ought to know how good he is, how well he's doing, how much Laertes cherishes him. He lets the hand in Lucien's hair tug him a little closer, urging him to take Laertes in his mouth. "Open for me. Show me thou art mine."