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]

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.

[future_sandworm]

If he had known about that sudden vision of dark hair, Leto would probably have laughed. But he didn't, and he didn't even consider it. That noise was encouraging, however. For a moment he slowed down, not in intensity but in speed, almost teasingly.

[bitchprince]

And that was cruel, because he'd been seconds away from-- "C'm on," Arthur managed, demanding in tone even if the rest of him wasn't.

[future_sandworm]

Leto was not in a state to grin, but he might have done that otherwise. Still, he saw no reason to extend the cruelty and responded with giving Arthur exactly what he expected he wanted.

[bitchprince]

Arthur may have smacked him.

As it was, his hips bucked against the strain of Leto's hands as he came, possibly shredding a little bit of Leto's blanket.

[future_sandworm]

Perhaps Arthur could get Merlin to mend that blanket later?

Leto let go and rolled to the side, wiping his mouth and breathing heavily.

[bitchprince]

Arthur would... echo the breathing heavily thing, shut as his eyes might be.

Outside by the window, squirrels were gathering.

[future_sandworm]

Leto didn't care about squirrels. No, he didn't even consider their existence right now. When his breathing slowed down, Leto mumbled: "Staying here is definitely preferable to the cabins."

[bitchprince]

Arthur's hand may have found some chunk of Leto's body (shoulder?) to tug on, yes. "No, really," he managed, with snatches of pant.

The squirrels were prying on the window.

[future_sandworm]

All Leto did in response to that was laugh. He was content, relaxed.

Although the floor was getting a little uncomfortable and cold.

[bitchprince]

"Bed?"

Arthur was already reaching up for Leto's.

[future_sandworm]

"Yes." Sleepiness was hitting him, hard. Leto pushed himself up to sitting and then followed Arthur.

[bitchprince]

Arthur crashed into said bed without much fanfare, somewhat up to letting Leto do his girly snuggling thing tonight.

Again, he was unaware of the squirrels knocking.

[future_sandworm]

Well, if Arthur wasn't objecting...

Leto wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close, sighing as his eyes closed.

[bitchprince]

And they managed to keep that for a few more minutes.

Until little squirrel hands tagged on Arthur's and he detached, incoherently.

He wasn't going to find words until halfway to the station.

They would be very harsh words.