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.

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[untamedantinous]

He wraps his arms around Laertes as well, returning those kisses with a will. "Yes, yours," he says, hoarse and smiling. He does not look as if he regrets any of it.

[timebethine]

"Come here," says Laertes, as though they aren't already crushing each other close; he feels as though he can't get close enough. He smooths his palms up from Lucien's hips to his ribs to his shoulders, then scratches back down as though he means to carve wings on Lucien's back.

[untamedantinous]

He probably looks like a debauched archangel in truth, hair askew and cheeks still flushed, grinning like he's fit to burst. "I love you," he says, hoarse and quiet, with a little content noise at those scratches.

[timebethine]

"As I love thee," Laertes answers, low but fervent. "Wouldst have me make thy quietus?"

[untamedantinous]

"Please," he says, laughing a little and nuzzling against Laertes' neck. "I'd nearly forgotten."

[timebethine]

"That's a fine compliment," Laertes laughs as he works Lucien's trousers open. "I have a lover who likes to spend on my command--wouldst thou play that game?"

[untamedantinous]

"I can try," he says, thoughtful. "I have already tried much today."

[timebethine]

"Thou hast, and done so well. I'm so pleased with thee." As his hand finds heated flesh, Laertes leans in to sink his teeth into Lucien's throat--a hard bite, but tender, with all the drunken sweetness of a kiss.

[untamedantinous]

That is very nearly a whine that comes out of his throat, and his hips jerk into Laertes' touch, head falling to the side to give him better access. "'m glad," he manages to gasp out, and he would thank Laertes but forming words is somewhat difficult just now.

[timebethine]

Laertes shifts the grip of his teeth, working his way up the side of Lucien's neck. He strokes Lucien slow and firm, his grip inexorable. He wants it to hurt. He wants to make Lucien scream. He wants Lucien to have bruises to touch, and remember.

[untamedantinous]

Lucien is already stretched taut between the firm hand at his cock and Laertes’ teeth, and he gasps and moans, the two opposing sensations sending fire coursing through his veins. “More,” Lucien says, breathy, and bites at his own lip, thrusting into the other’s touch. “Please, a little more.” It’s driving him wild, but that is not their game, just now. He cannot get his release just yet.

[timebethine]

"More sharpness? Or more speed?" He rakes his free hand down Lucien's spine.

[untamedantinous]

“Ah—“ His hips buck again, and he takes a shaky breath, trying to master himself. “More sharpness…”

[timebethine]

"Even to blood?"

[untamedantinous]

“A little.”

[timebethine]

Laertes raises his head to catch Lucien in a swift, searing kiss, then sinks his teeth into the other side of Lucien's throat. He seals his lips around the bite and sucks hard, intent on leaving a mark--intent on having Lucien remember this tryst every time he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Laertes claws at his back over and over again, wounds crossing and recrossing--his nails are too blunt to break the skin, but they can raise thick red welts everywhere they they press.

[untamedantinous]

Lucien looks fierce and wild, letting his hips arch again with a noise that is almost a shout. He doesn’t want it to end, but he knows he is close, and somehow, he summons up the words. “Mm, yes, please —yours, mon cœur, may I…?”

[timebethine]

And Laertes unlatches his teeth from Lucien's neck to press a kiss to his ear and breathe there, "Come for me."

[untamedantinous]

He does, then, letting himself spill over with another noise that may as well be a shout, breathless and sated. He sags against Laertes for a few moments, just to get his breath back, and gives him a careful nuzzle. “I love you,” Lucien says, fierce and quiet and triumphant. “I am yours.”

[timebethine]

Laertes only laughs and wraps Lucien in his arms, holding and rocking him. "My sweet man," he says; "my heart, thou wert so good for me. Didst heed me so well, and make such sweet sounds for me. I love thee. Thou art mine."

[untamedantinous]

“Entirely,” he agrees, still pressing little nuzzles into Laertes’ hair, smiling. “Thank you for the lesson; I understand a little more now, I think.”

[timebethine]

"Didst thou like it?" Laertes asks. He nuzzles right back, and presses his smile against Lucien's cheek.

[untamedantinous]

“Very much,” he says, as if that wasn’t entirely obvious to the both of them. “But just with you.”

[timebethine]

"Next time, thou canst have charge of me, and see whether thou likest it as well," Laertes offers. "Take care, though; sometimes, a great rush of desolation comes after a game like this. It's usually brief, and fades with care--but I would not have thee think thou hast done something wrong, if it should come."

[untamedantinous]

“Mmhm,” Lucien says lazily, moving to thread his fingers in Laertes’ hair. It is easy to see why that might happen, after being on the edge of something for so long surely there must be a fall. Right now; though, he is content and complacent, grounded by his hand in Laertes’ hair and the other’s arms. “I am alright for now, I think.”