closed: and i soar through a world that is new, that is free (post-dance)

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras has been puttering about the mansion in the past few days since the wedding dance. Today, he has spent some time outside with Temeraire -- it's getting colder, and the warmth of Temeraire's pavilion has become quite a snug little place to read to him, when Galahad is not. He had moved onto some canne de combat practice after their customary few chapters a day, which had occupied him until just recently.

The winter is coming in faster, now, and Enjolras has never been one for the cold. Certainly the south of France is not as far south as many other places in the world, but he grew up accustomed to it being somewhat warmer there than it was in Paris. So now, he is curled up in front of a fire that is crackling merrily, sipping at some vin chaud as he leafs through a book of recipes. There is, indeed, a pile of books nearby -- both cookbooks and others, but right now he is looking for something easy to set his sights on for his next baking adventure.

Comments

[timebethine]

"We have some friends in common, so I will trust that they'll stay his worse impulses--but beyond the admitted beauty of his visage, I confess, I've thus far found little to like in him."

[untamedantinous]

He shrugs. "You are far more pleasing than he, but I am no great judge of such things. Buonaparte," he scoffs derisively. "If I supported that man, Pontmercy and I would have gotten along much better. But France does not need a man such as Buonaparte to make her great."

[timebethine]

"He was the emperor, was he not?"

[untamedantinous]

"Yes. He came to power after the fall of the first republic, worked his way up through the army and gained power about ten years before I was born. He very nearly conquered the whole of Europe after that, until a coalition helped in part by England brought him down some years later. --Though I suppose trying to invade Russia in the winter did not do him any favors, either. Pontmercy's father fought with him, I think? I never asked."

[timebethine]

Laertes hesitates, then asks, "I know thou wouldst have no kings, but ... am I the kind of person thou wouldst trust with power?"

[untamedantinous]

Lucien gives him a long look, as though he's weighing and measuring in his head. "Yes," he finally says, leaning to kiss Laertes' cheek. "You are wise and politic, even if you do not think you are, and you take care to remember those who are often forgotten. I do not think it would go to your head."

[timebethine]

"I wouldn't ask, except--more than one person has said it, and I thought it best to have an opinion from a man who would suffer no kings." He lets his knuckles light along Lucien's jaw, chasing whatever slight rasp of stubble he might find there. "From thee, I believe it."

[untamedantinous]

"Mm," he nods, and nuzzles against Laertes' knuckles much like the cat he claimed to be. "I could certainly see you as a leader of men, along with Combeferre. Myself -- well. We've spoken of that."

[timebethine]

"Hast been a leader of men--they've seen thee give thyself to the pyre of their struggle, and know thou meanest to light their way." As though Lucien is a cat in truth, Laertes massages with his fingertips a little behind Lucien's ear.

[untamedantinous]

"Yes, well. As I said, I --never really thought past that point, at home." He makes a soft pleased noise and closes his eyes. "Perhaps I am your cat," he adds, laughing a little. "I do so enjoy your pets."

[timebethine]

"Shall I scratch down to the base of thy tail, and see whether it makes thee arch thy back?" says Laertes mildly.

[untamedantinous]

"I'm sure you could think of other ways to make me arch my back, if you liked," he says, just as mild, but grinning a little."

[timebethine]

"I could," Laertes replies as he scrubs soft, circling little scratches down between Lucien's shoulder blades. "And, if thou wish it, I may."

[untamedantinous]

Between the warmth of the fire and the delightful feeling of Laertes' nails on his back, Lucien is practically boneless as he attempts to snuggle still closer. "I do, mon cœur," he says, quiet but grinning all the same. He does rouse himself enough to stretch for a soft, mostly gentle kiss.

[timebethine]

Then Laertes keeps scratching down Lucien's spine with slow, methodical strokes, gathering him closer into the kiss with every inch his hand falls, until his fingertips are circling over the back seam of Lucien's trousers and he's breathing hotly into the kiss.

[untamedantinous]

Enjolras, for his part, has shifted happily to continue that kiss, making small encouraging noises as Laertes' hand moves ever downward. He is actually dressed in a buttondown and black jeans today, they are so much more convenient and have a good deal less buttons than his usual trousers. He is tempted to continue that kiss a little longer, but for now he just looks at Laertes with deep, dark eyes. "You've been told, I'm sure, that you are very good with your hands," he says, smiling.

[timebethine]

"I have, but mostly in the crafting of boats or jewelry," Laertes laughs. "I've lately been learning to work clay--wouldst have me shape thee thus?"

[untamedantinous]

"I would like you in whatever way you can imagine," Lucien says earnestly. "I would learn from you, I would --I do --love you," softer, still just as earnest, and he reaches to cup Laertes' jaw with a hand. "I will be quite attentive," he adds, impish for a moment. "Do not worry."

[timebethine]

"I love thee as I love sunlight, cher." Laertes leans into that touch. There is something he's been longing for, and felt too ridiculous to ask--but the earnest affection in Lucien's voice makes him brave. "I'd like very much to rub thy back, and to have thee touch me in kind," he says, and meets Lucien's eyes. In the firelight, his own look closer to brown-golden than to green, the lines around them soft with fondness. "Wouldst thou like that?"

[untamedantinous]

"Yes," quietly, and he brushes his thumb across Laertes' lips with a small smile. Enjolras' eyes, already darker than normal, look almost as dark as the sea in the flickering gleams and shadows of the fire. "I do like your hands on my back, if that was not apparent." It is not often at all that he permits anyone to touch him, but Laertes is of course a special case. Sometimes, he feels he cannot get enough of it. Now is one of those times, and he drifts a little closer, finally pulling his hand away to rest at the buttons of his shirt. "Would you like this off?"

[timebethine]

"Let's close the door--I'd not shame thee," says Laertes, stilling Lucien's hands with his own.

[untamedantinous]

"Ah, alright." He grins and presses a kiss to Laertes' cheek before he moves to get up to close the door. "I did show up in this place with a shirt in tatters, but I do appreciate your concern for my modesty." He returns quickly, settling back on the couch and promptly snuggling close once more.

[timebethine]

"That's another sign we can print," Laertes says, turning a laughing look on Lucien as he starts to undo his shirt-buttons one-handed. "'Do not enter.'"

[untamedantinous]

"Mm, yes, and just carry it 'round in our pockets," he laughs. "Or we might be sensible gentlemen and do such things in a bed, but --there's no fireplace in my rooms."

[timebethine]

"I will happily carry all thy furniture to this room, and these chairs and couches to thy room, and thou canst have a fireplace hereafter," Laertes offers.