Sometimes, Lionel cannot help himself. Sometime he is so physically distracted by Bertie that in the middle of a lesson, he'll press Bertie against the floor or the wall or even his side of the bed and have his way with him. Bertie doesn't usually mind; in fact, he's often an enthusiastic participant. Lionel thinks on a few of his most favorite occurrences-
(1)
Bertie's shoulders pinned to the carpet, Lionel straddling his waist, kissing his mouth with luster. Bertie whimpers as he grinds against him and Lionel swallows down the sweet sounds until it is more than either of them can bear.
(2)
Lionel grips Bertie's bum and suddenly Bertie is gasping in shock at the sensation, looking over his shoulder to see if what he thinks is happening is really happening. It is.
"You shouldn't! Shouldn't do such things. It's! It's a dirty thing to do. You shouldn't use! Your mouth or your tongue-Oh God!" Bertie tries to protest.
Lionel canters by using a bit more force.
(3)
Though he's been trying for half an hour to arouse Bertie after a long day of speech writing and speech practicing, northing he does seems to work. So far, he's only succeeded in arousing himself.
"What can I do to help?" he asks sincerely, looking up from the king's lap.
Bertie's cheeks are red with embarrassment.
"I-I don't know. E-Elizabeth usually just gives me sweets I like, like chocolates and candied fruits. It's n-not the same, but it's a nice thought," Bertie explains.
Lionel stands and his knees crack, but he valiantly walks it off, more concerned about Bertie's comfort than his own. He remember seeing some strawberries in the 'fridge before. He dips five of them in sugar and feeds them to the king bite by bite, allowing him only the smallest of tastes at a time. Or when he's about to bite, snatches it from his teeth and takes his own large bite.
"Now you're teasing," Bertie pouts.
"Is that so?" Lionel asks before sucking and licking the sugar off of one bright red berry.
Bertie's eyes darken.
"Come to bed with me," he orders.
Lionel follows smugly at his heels. He'd have to remember to thank the Queen for such a splendid idea.
(4)
"H-how do I look?" asks Bertie, turning from the mirror to face Lionel.
Lionel takes in the lashes darked by mascara, lips rouged with lipstick, and his eyelids made black with coal. In the firelight, he looks like a nymph, not quite man, not quite woman. It's erotic and beautiful and Lionel thinks he looks perfectly exquisite.
"You're gorgeous," he whispers huskily.
And he means it.
