A/N This is my first attempt at SlashFic, so please, if it's really
horrible, tell me?
There was fire in his dark eyes. Fire, passion, everything that the women of the court swooned over. Everything that I swooned over as well. I tried, I tried hard as I could to force the thoughts from my mind. I shouldn't, I couldn't think those thoughts.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't help it. I knew all too well why the women of the court swooned over him. I knew all to well why my own wife swooned over him. And I couldn't help but feel jealous of my lovely Gwenhyfar.
I love Gwenhyfar, I love her dearly, but I cannot help but feel insanely jealous of her each time she and him look at each other. They love each other. And I have offered many a time to let them lay together, in my own bed even, but not for Gwenhyfar's sake, but for his, because I want him to be happy.
He is my dearest friend, and so much more. How I would that the rumors were true, the rumors of him liking men just as much as women. How I wish that he would notice me as more than just his best friend, as more than his king, but as a lover, as someone who loves him more than he loves his own wife.
I hate Morgaine for what she's done. She has tied his heart to someone whom he does not love, she has sent him far away from me. I try to think that it's all the better for Gwenhyfar that he is not here, but I cannot help but want him, once again, so nearby.
I can still feel how great he was, the one night I all but forced him into bed with Gwenhyfar and myself. His touch excited me more than any other woman's. His touch stirred something so deep inside of me. His touch stirred a love that I never felt for Gwen.
I love Gwen, and yet I do not. As much as I love her, I also pity her. I would do anything for her not out of love, but out of pity, and out of wanting to appear the good king and husband, not the man who thinks more of his captain of horse, not the man who loves another man.
But now, now he is before me again. And I want only to touch him. To pleasure him. I move in closer to him, and I think he senses it in me. He smells so good, so masculine. There is something else in his eyes. Could it be? Could it really be the one thing that I have hoped for all these years?
He leans in closer to me, and I could tell that he is thinking of the one time that we had shared a bed, the one time where he, Gwenhyfar and I had all become one. "My lord, my Arthur." He says, inches from my face. His breath excites me so.
"Lancelet, Lancelet, please." I say. I cannot hold it back any more. I love him so. I love him more than anything else in the world. And Lancelet nods. And I can see in his eyes that my wish has come true. He is not doing this for his friend, for his lord, but rather he is doing this for the one he loves.
There was fire in his dark eyes. Fire, passion, everything that the women of the court swooned over. Everything that I swooned over as well. I tried, I tried hard as I could to force the thoughts from my mind. I shouldn't, I couldn't think those thoughts.
But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't help it. I knew all too well why the women of the court swooned over him. I knew all to well why my own wife swooned over him. And I couldn't help but feel jealous of my lovely Gwenhyfar.
I love Gwenhyfar, I love her dearly, but I cannot help but feel insanely jealous of her each time she and him look at each other. They love each other. And I have offered many a time to let them lay together, in my own bed even, but not for Gwenhyfar's sake, but for his, because I want him to be happy.
He is my dearest friend, and so much more. How I would that the rumors were true, the rumors of him liking men just as much as women. How I wish that he would notice me as more than just his best friend, as more than his king, but as a lover, as someone who loves him more than he loves his own wife.
I hate Morgaine for what she's done. She has tied his heart to someone whom he does not love, she has sent him far away from me. I try to think that it's all the better for Gwenhyfar that he is not here, but I cannot help but want him, once again, so nearby.
I can still feel how great he was, the one night I all but forced him into bed with Gwenhyfar and myself. His touch excited me more than any other woman's. His touch stirred something so deep inside of me. His touch stirred a love that I never felt for Gwen.
I love Gwen, and yet I do not. As much as I love her, I also pity her. I would do anything for her not out of love, but out of pity, and out of wanting to appear the good king and husband, not the man who thinks more of his captain of horse, not the man who loves another man.
But now, now he is before me again. And I want only to touch him. To pleasure him. I move in closer to him, and I think he senses it in me. He smells so good, so masculine. There is something else in his eyes. Could it be? Could it really be the one thing that I have hoped for all these years?
He leans in closer to me, and I could tell that he is thinking of the one time that we had shared a bed, the one time where he, Gwenhyfar and I had all become one. "My lord, my Arthur." He says, inches from my face. His breath excites me so.
"Lancelet, Lancelet, please." I say. I cannot hold it back any more. I love him so. I love him more than anything else in the world. And Lancelet nods. And I can see in his eyes that my wish has come true. He is not doing this for his friend, for his lord, but rather he is doing this for the one he loves.