Lancelot wonders what rain sounds like when it hits glass. Real glass. Being that Lancelot's quarters are mostly bare with the exception of the bed and a desk to read at when the night falls, there is only one window which is covered with two wooden panels.
As Lancelot lays upon his bed, his arms in a relaxing position behind his head, he ponders what the sounf of this wretched rain would sound like if it were to shower upon glass and not the cold hard brick and wood surrounding him.
Lancelot chuckled when he thought of asking Arthur, If you want to know so badly, come to Rome with me when the time comes and there you'll hear rain on glass... it's beautiful Lancelot. Yes, that is exactly what Arthur would say; always wanting Lancelot to be with him.
Lanelot let out a deep and content sigh knowing that the time when knight and commander part is still years away. His thoughts wander back to rain and glass, he wonders if it sounds harsh and quick, like a dagger slipping gracefully into skin; or if it is smooth and warm, if it dribbles down the glass in slow calm patterns.
Lancelot wonders if then rain sounds different on glass or if the pitter-patter of the rain here is the same everywhere else. Lancelot agrees with the first idea; it sounds different somewhere else, everything is different when in another place. Like Arthur and Lancelot's lovemaking.
In Lancelot's quarters, the sex is slow, smoothing, relaxing after a hard day of practice or traveling. It is never rushed and always done with only care and, dare he say, love? Yes, when Arthur enters Lancelot, he enters whispering Lancelot's name over and over again, nuzzling his cheeck into Lancelot's curly black locks and kissing and softly carressing his body. The sex is slow and relaxes the tensions held throughout the day, Arthur never leaves a part of Lancelot's body untouched or unkissed. There is competition, no quarrels, no roughness; just carresses and kisses.
When they are in Arthur's quarters, they don't have sex, they fuck. Shirts and breeches are ripped without mercy and or care and quite often there is enough biting and pinching to leave bruises and bite marks and questions for the other knights, not as if they didn't know already. Arthur likes to shove and throw Lancelot against the walls of his quarters, completely ignoring the bed and its softness; when they fuck, no care or precautions are taken. Bodies and room heat up to boiling temperatures within seconds and sweat smells just as sweet as it tastes. As Arthur enters Lancelot, it is quick and fast, barely letting the oil soak onto Arthur's cock; each thrust is quicker than before and there are no sweet nothings whispered into Lancelot's ear, only biting and sucking if it.
Lancelot concludes that rain does sound different according to location; rain is like Arthur and Lancelot together, soft and sweet one place and hard and rough another. Perhaps Lancelot truly does like the rain; rain on wood or rain on glass, each have a different sound and meaning.
Lancelot is snapped out of his reverie when he feels a powerful and warm arm gently grabbing his body, Arthur pulls Lancelot closer to him and gently kisses Lancelot right behind the ear where he, halp asleep and barely awake, knows that it's the softest and sweetest part of him.
Lancelot turns to turns to face Arthur and gently wipes the hair out of his face and kisses Arthur ever so gently on the lips. Two green eyes slowly open and a mouth becomes a smile, Arthur takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly and gently.
"What are you thinking about now?" Arthur asks.
"Rain." Lancelot says gently.
"I like the rain."
"Yes," Lancelot's eyes travel around Arthur's face, "me too."
Arthur gently takes Lancelot's face into his hands and kisses him slowly and lovingly for, after all, they are in Lancelot's quarters.