Room 303, Tuesday Evening

[bitchprince]

After an exhausting day, there was little Arthur enjoyed more than getting to lounge about his thankfully not-an-alcove bed, which was just about as good as the one he had back in Camelot. He was already in his nightclothes by now, and he was fairly sure that whatever happened, he had a good night's sleep coming up on him.

If you didn't know him any better (and most people on the island didn't. Even many who thought they did) you could almost say he was completely back to normal, had put That Weekend out of his mind, and was continuing on as per usual.

You'd be wrong. So would Arthur, who made deluding himself into an art form when he felt like it.

He was just going to concentrate on the whole good night's sleep - have a hunting dog now - nice bed thing. That was about in keeping with his sanity. (That, and considering everything that Reno had put on his mind. It was always nice when life accommodated your denial with more responsibilities)

He wasn't yet aware that in a few short hours, he was going to be bustled out of his room by cranky rodents, no.

[[ door is cracked, post is open! -- and thread with Leto nws. sigh ]]

Comments

[bitchprince]

Not very considerate of him, but whatever. Arthur stayed where he was, not too far, up until he was done; then he pulled back, spitting at the floor to get the worst out of his mouth. The rest he'd have to swallow, then.

He let go of Leto's prick to wipe off his mouth. He had... a considerable problem, at this point.

[future_sandworm]

Leto sank to his knees, looking at Arthur with rather unfocused eyes. He suspected he should return this favour somehow, and he would once he had caught his breath.

[bitchprince]

As it was, they were at eye-level, so Arthur would more than abuse the opportunity to snag his hair and kiss him hard and fiercely.

Possibly knocking him against the door, but Arthur didn't notice nor care.

[future_sandworm]

That didn't bother Leto much at this point. The kiss was returned, although it would have been impossible not to when it was given in that way. Then, pulling back a little, he mumbled: "What do you want?"

He could come up with something himself, of course, but Arthur did have this preference for being in charge.

[bitchprince]

There was a brief moment as he eyed Leto straight on back. For some reason, the past few weeks' arguments were flitting through his brain like that much spare something.

"Figure something out," he said, finally, leaning his forehead against Leto's.

[future_sandworm]

Leto might not be overly creative at this point, but that didn't mean he wouldn't come up with something. He kissed Arthur again, gentler this time, and wrapped one hand into his hair as he pushed him backwards onto the floor.

[bitchprince]

So maybe completely blank seemed endlessly appealing tonight. It was what prompted Arthur to go willingly and with no protest at all, settling against the floor like he was the one who'd gotten his release already.

If his foot hooked around Leto's ankle in the process, then so be it.

[future_sandworm]

That meant Leto had to fall on to him, which wasn't that far from his intention anyway. Supporting himself on his arms gave enough distance to continue kissing and then running the tip of his tongue down Arthur's chest.

[bitchprince]

Making a little noise in the back of his throat, a little arching of his spine, Arthur's hand ran up into his hair and kept there, needlessly petting just a little. "Teasing?" he mumbled.

Somehow, he didn't feel like being in charge any longer, and he closed his eyes against images in the dark.

[future_sandworm]

"Payback." Leto played around one nipple and then the other, showing no sign of hurry. He felt quite relaxed, his mind clearing and this was far too enjoyable.

[bitchprince]

Arthur hummed something that might have been you bastard or might have been fine then. His hand kept on pressing soft little patterns into Leto's hair, and his eyes were firmly shut. "No thinking," he muttered. "Sweet mercy."

He was putting some faith in Leto's ability not to give a damn about his feelings, there.

[future_sandworm]

And Arthur was quite right there.

He continued for a while, noting the reaction, then slowly moved further down.

[bitchprince]

Leto was very accommodating like that.

He was just going to choose not to think about people who did give a damn about his feelings. His eyes flicked up at the ceiling, skimming past the clock. Eleven... something?

"I'll die another day, then," he spoke, mostly to himself, like a prayer he held every day (and he did, in his mind, somewhere) and then arched his back, making a little panting noise before that gave away to a short smattering of old Welsh.

If Leto even bothered to ask, he'd get no answers.

[future_sandworm]

Whatever Arthur was saying, it didn't seem to be of importance, so Leto ignored it. Instead he focused on what he was doing. Shifting a little, he moved further down, teasingly exploring skin. Yes, he could do payback, but he didn't think Arthur would object.

[bitchprince]

"Bastard," he muttered again, at last.

His eyes flicked down to find the top of Leto's head, and he began to prop himself up to keep better tabs on... things.

[future_sandworm]

Leto had a feeling it would be worse if he stopped. Not that he had any intention of doing that, at all. Now he was lying between Arthur's legs, still supported on his arms. He turned his head slightly and ran his teeth along the inside of his thigh, before looking up to meet Arthur's eyes.

[bitchprince]

Definitely a bastard. Right now, he could appreciate that.

Arthur's mouth curled into something a little darker. He didn't say anything - his breath was coming too shallow and panting as it was, moments from incoherency - but once he was aware he had Leto's eyes he tilted his head ever so slightly, letting the hair fall over his forehead, and lifted an imperious eyebrow.

[future_sandworm]

He seemed to be appreciating it, yes. Leto grinned, then leaned forward, one arm for support to that his other hand could be put to better use, complementing what he had been doing before.

[bitchprince]

That was a mark, if any, to let his head finally drop back with a gasp, eliminating even the non-verbal snark in favour of something nice and sweet and utterly, utterly mindless. The floor was cold under him, but that didn't much matter, in the scheme of-- everything.

[future_sandworm]

Making Arthur stop the snarky talk was an achievement in itself, but Leto too found himself too distracted to truly consider this. Instead he turned his mind to making this pleasurable enough to be too slow - it was payback after all.

[bitchprince]

A pox on Leto's ancestors. The whole lot of them.

Arthur was breathing heavily and it just wasn't-- he could feel something on the edge, sharp and good, staying out of his bloody reach. He opened his mouth to say something about it, but it came out as more of a wet moan and less of a complaint.

Oh well. It kept him distracted from the fact that several levels down, squirrels were gathering underneath their window.

[future_sandworm]

Leto's ancestors were far more present than Arthur knew.

And the response Leto got meant he continued in the same way, although faster and with more intensity. His own emotions might have influenced that choice, too.

[bitchprince]

Far be it from Arthur to question Leto's emotions when it meant that. His elbows gave way under him eventually, and he flopped back to the floor, scraping around for something to take a hold of (Leto's blankets were very convenient). "Bw-- cnn," he mumbled, as his hips bucked up. "Twll tin."

[future_sandworm]

The words made no sense, so Leto ignored them, and instead used his strength to push Arthur's hips on the floor while continuing. Without paying much attention to it his nails dug into the skin.

[bitchprince]

He didn't whimper.

Except for the bit where he sort of did, focusing on the blunt press of pain up on his nerve-endings for a few seconds. He had his eyes closed, but he could swear he could see a flash of raven hair passing by somewhere.

He tugged on that image as he gave in, nothing active from his end but the steady curl of his fingers into the blanket and even the words gave way.