AN: Ho'kay. So. This scene was the result of a suggestion planted by the lovely Camreyn. Lancelot/Arthur usually takes second seat to GG for me, but with her review, the seed was planted and this little mini-chapter was the outcome.
No worries, the next chapter is all GG, and quite long. This is barely a page, and while I feel slightly guilty posting something so short, the next chapter should be up before Friday. Like I said before, the whole of the story is already written, it's just a matter of revising all the harried writing before it hits ff.
Anyway, enjoy!
Chapter 4: Wanting
Arthur watched them crash through the underbrush, remaining on the trail despite the banshee screams his conscience gave at his lack of action. He should have fetched his horse and blade and followed suit. Lead them, protect them.
He had never known another way.
"You shouldn't have let him go" a tired Lancelot observed, for once not prickling with anger. He was always his happiest after battle, "He's injured...not thinking as clearly as he should for...whatever may happen out there"
"Clear thinking isn't what he needs right now" Arthur murmured, starring off into the green of the wood. There were shouts, the sound of fading of horse hooves, and little more. The birds had taken leave of the trees and any small game had fled. They feared the smell of blood. Smart things.
It was only after Lancelot's presence slid close against him that the tired general tore his eyes from the forest. His sight quickly found the deep, shadowed wilderness of Lancelot eyes, and a slow grin took his face.
Thousands of touches, desires, and fears came back to him in a rush. All those battles which he'd endured with one eye on his opponent and the other on this young, fiery man. There were more pains than pleasures in bedding a man that he forever called on to lay his life before an enemy blade.
But those few pleasure...Lancelot's dimples deepened and a special, rare light entered his eyes. Arthur's face had betrayed his thoughts.
"What are you thinking, Artorious?" Lancelot asked gently, stepping forward into the older man shadow.
Of all the time's I've nearly lost you, the times I should have kissed you instead of fought you The boy you once were, the innocent you never were, the peaceful man you'll never be, and the strange, foreign fact that I love you more than life. More than freedom.
The stranger fact that you love me.
But instead of putting that poetry to words, giving that honesty breath and life and thereby the possibility of corruption, Arthur only smiled, and bent lower to meet the challenge in Lancelot's eyes.
The kiss, when it came, was pure and chaste and sweet for its rarity. It promised nothing, for they had not lives that offered fulfillment of such nighttime pacts. But it spoke; spoke with more conviction, dedication, and honesty than either soldier could ever hope to capture with his own, lonely lips.
How many nights had they gone now without passion? How many days since they'd last shared this sin?
"Nothing" Arthur said, pulling away with a rare smile on his face, "Nothing that you don't already know"
AN: I know, I know. Mega-short. Forgive me? Review?
Thanks to all and every that have reviewed so far. You are my hero