Laertes follows, stepping closer to stand over Lucien's thighs--that insolence sends a little charge through him, but he elects to pretend he hasn't seen it. He slides deeper into Lucien's mouth, slow but sure, forcing his jaw open in little increments until the pressure and weight of him is overwhelming. "Thou sweet thing," he says. His hand falls from Lucien's hair to graze blunt fingernails over his shoulder. "Wouldst like a little sharpness to repay thee?--canst nod or shake thy head."