(A/N) A lazy morning between the two
Sluggishly, like the winding breezes of summer, the prince turns over. Light spills across the floor in hazy streams and he'd rather stay in the dark warmth of his bed then greet the day. Burying his face into the pillow beneath him he feels fingers, rough and familiar travel down his back. Behind his eyelids he sees them paint across his skin, leaving liquid trails of contentment to slither down his spine. Lazy and unhurried he hums in acknowledgment of his bedmate's affections. He'll return them, in a moment or two, he promises in his mind and thankfully the man beside him does not stop.
"For one who is so merry, you are quite lazy," sleep drowns the words into murmured syllables and he smiles.
"My dear huntsman, unlike you, I do not have to catch my food come morning."
The bed dips and to his surprise he feels his lover's beard, rasping against his cheek and the feel of lips seeking out his own. Laughing, Hal permits a meeting between them and Eric hums; the fingers on his back turn to a heavy palm, hot and lingering.
He likes when this happens and whether or not he feels like a kept pet depends on how they part. Eric feels the way Hal's laugh shivers through his body, heats up his nerve endings because there's just something about the way the prince laughs that makes him feel alive. He'd bottle that laugh and keep it for himself on rainy days to cheer up the room if he could.
Kissing at the one proffered cheekbone he travels lower, seeking out the raised hills of his love's spine. They taste of starry visits and shadowy meetings. Were he some worshiper and Hal some god he would whisper flatteries, recite long winded testaments and implore this immortal being under him to grace his life with nothing more than his god's presence. Except he isn't, he doesn't grovel even for the mightiest of kings and he lavishes the pale skin beneath his lips not because textbooks would demand he show reverence, but because he gives it freely and willingly to a being so buried within himself it seems all he can do sometimes when words will not come. Pulling back the covers he sets upon the newly exposed skin with as much slow and disciplined practice as he had before until Hal calls for him and he returns to a waiting mouth.
"What acts have I done to deserve such, mmmm…. luxuriant" he purrs "ministrations?"
Eric chuckles low and amused, "Too many to count, my lord."
Oh there it is, sweet and soft in the air and Hal stares at Eric from under his lashes. Only at moments, quiet and even like these does his huntsman deign to call forth the titles that would separate them, but when he says it and he gets to watch the words form on his lover's lips, are they more endearment than mocking.
"Eric."
He earns a kiss for that and when he smiles he's reward with another. Maybe his huntsman is so carefree to give his kisses lightly but then he remembers just how menacing this tall, castle of a man can look and he relishes how here, beneath fabrics worth more than a peasant's house he looks almost harmless and acts as if drunk on love. And maybe he is. Maybe he himself is and if he is he would not want for another sober day in his life. Finally emerging from the deep valleys of his pillow, Hal slides over to his huntsman and lays himself across the man's chest. Deep within, with his ear pressed close, Hal can hear the steady thrum of the man's heartbeat, strong and powerful like its owner.
Skin to skin it feels warm even with the blankets half kicked off, but Eric would rather this than anyone else. So smooth are his lord's movements, one might think him still wrapped in sleep's embrace and wanting for company without conscious reason. He knows better, he feels slender fingers curl around his ribs, hold tight and feels nothing but desired in his lover's hold. Closing his eyes, Eric pets a hand through Hal's hair, feels it curl and spring around his fingers. For now, he is content to lie here and fall once more asleep in his lover's arms.