He had a come back - he swore he did - but at that moment, he couldn't, for the life of him, remember what it was. The pain was beginning to get rather crippling and he could feel the bandages beginning to soak with blood again.
"You didn't make me," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't start fucking going all guilty on me now, Arthur."
"You know me too well - and nevermind that," Arthur said, his face going a bit white. "You're bleeding through your clothing."
He hailed a passing servant, and told him to get the doctor immediately. "We're not moving until he comes," he told the other man, and promptly sat him down on a tipped over barrel at the edge of the wall.
The doctor came a few moments later, and clucked disapprovingly at the sight of Lancelot's injury bleeding again.
"This man shouldn't be walking, commander," he said, a tone in his voice that Arthur didn't like.
"I realize that - but he also needed to eat something and I didn't want to leave him alone," he snapped back. The doctor was contrite, and a few of his helpers arrived behind him.
"Take this man back to his rooms. He needs his stitches checked," the doctor ordered, but Arthur stopped them.
"He can use mine. They're bigger - and I will be gone in the morning. No sense in dragging somewhere smaller and colder."
He threw a look at Lancelot, who was stewing whilst being checked over.
Lancelot looked up, noticed Arthur watching him and shot him something between a glare and a pleading look.
When Arthur made no move to help him, he looked exasperately at the doctor. "I'm not going to die and nothing's torn. Leave off!" He glared. "Once I'm in Arthur's room, I can take care of it myself, dammit. Get off!"
When the doctor carried on, ignoring him completely, he turned back to Arthur, looking at him pleadingly. "Please."
"Oh, no, sir knight. Don't look at me for help. Doctor - take this man to my quarters. You can look at him there."
The doctor nodded at his assistants, who hustled Lancelot off toward Arthur's rooms. Arthur winced slightly at the look the other man shot him - he would pay for this for sure.
"His stitches seem to have torn somewhat. It won't take long to fix." The doctor told Arthur, who nodded. "I'll be along with my supplies in just a minute."
Arthur watched as the old man rushed off to get his things, and found himself alone in the courtyard. People and animals swirled about him, and he hesitated, things seeming to blur in his mind momentarily.
One day can last a lifetime...and then you turn around and eight years have gone by.He shook his head, brushing off more legionaires with questions, and followed Lancelot
( ... )
Arthur nodded solemnly. "I know, Lancelot, and truly, I'm sorry. But when it comes to your lives, *your* life, I will take no chances. I can't control everything on the battlefield - but here, in my own garrison, I have some measure of it. You were bleeding, and there was no way to tell how serious it was. Hopefully your pride will eventually understand."
He sat up, and blew out a shaky breath.
"God, that was quite scary."
I've killed men, and seen enemies and friends die before my eyes. But I turn into a girl the second I see blood on Lancelot? He's been hurt worse before.
"If I can make sure you're all right, I have some sembleance of control - and I can keep you safe. That's important to me. You. Safe. Alive."
His lower lips was trying valiently to stick out in a pout and he was struggling manfully against it.
"You've seen worse on me," he whispered, oddly touched but rather annoyed. "What will happen, Arthur, when I'm hurt out there?" He gestured outside. "You need to be able to cope with that, commander."
Truthfully, he was rather afraid of Arthur's reaction to his bleeding. A commander shouldn't have weaknesses - well, those weaknesses shouldn't be one of his knights.
"Yes, I have," he answered, "and I cope with it rather well, thank you. What I *don't* want to have to 'cope with' is your death right here in the fort when I could have done something to prevent it."
He stood, and moved away from the bed, running a hand through his hair.
"I have lost too many men to stupid things. Fever, infection, accidents that could have been treated if given the time. I didn't have much experience with such death when I came here, and now, unfortunately, I do. Death is always around us, Lancelot, and I've had it take things from me before their time. Not again. Not if I can do something this time."
He stopped, realizing he was pacing, and sat at his desk, shaking his head.
"No one gets me as excited as you, you know that? It's quite frustrating...and intoxicating as well."
"I wasn't going to die, dammit Arthur. Stop treating me as if I'm made of glass!" He could feel the tell-tale pricks of tears behind his eyes and he rolled his eyes angrily, looking away from Arthur.
What are you angry at? Angry that he cares? Or angry that you were so weak and stupid it came to a point where he needed to care?
He didn't have an answer - he knew what it was, but he didn't want to admit it. He closed his eyes and sank back down onto the bed.
"A little," he answered, voice still soft and tentative. He reached up and curled his fingers around the hand resting on his shoulder. He was feeling a bit better, the dream not so vivid, now that Arthur - who was very real - was back beside him.
He brought the hand he'd clasped to his lips, revelling in the other man's warmth. "Don't worry. I'll be okay."
"...if you say so," Arthur answered, somewhat doubting. Lancelot knew him like no other - but he also knew the heart of the other man, and could tell when he wasn't quite right.
He smiled when Lancelot's lips brushed the back of his hand, and slid closer.
"How's your side?" he asked, somewhat guiltily. He tilted his head, and looked at the back of the knight's head. "The lump has gone down, too," he said, feeling it very gingerly. He laughed a bit, shaking his head. "You are a mess, you know that?"
"It would be nice to have a few weeks where one of us didn't carry at least one bruise," he added sadly. "I wish that life for you, my friend - but unfortunately, it will not be the case for a while to come."
He forced his bitter thoughts away, recalling the comfort and calm of the chapel, breathing in his own scent, mixed with that of the tangy incense the few monks had brought with them from Rome.
Arthur frowned again as Lancelot shivered against him.
"You are cold," he murmured, and turned, folding one leg under him. He pushed the other man's hair away from his face, and tugged him into the circle of his arms, brushing his cheek against Lancelot's.
"I'm sorry I was gone so long," he added, "...lots of things happening. But I'm sorry just the same," he trailed off, breathing in the musk of the other man, combined with his own smell. It was strange, and heady.
"...I'll accept that - for now," Arthur said, slightly pouting when the other man shut him up with his lips. But he was happy for the contact.
"Just know that I'll listen if you need to talk about it," he added.
"...where was I?" he whispered, and brushed his lips across the other man's, pulling away before it could get too intense. He tilted Lancelot's head up gently with his fingertip, and kissed his throat, paying particular attention to the skin underneath the jaw bone. He snaked his tongue out, licking a path around to the other side of Lancelot's face.
Lancelot moaned slightly, breathlessly, tilting his head to let Arthur have better contact, one hand coming up to run through Arthur's hair.
He let Arthur's touch - his warm, loving, caring touch - chase away the remembered coldness, the ice-coated voice and the chilling fear that had come with it.
He mmm-ed, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, but he did it anyway.
He could hardly believe it had been so short a time - because he couldn't remember how he'd been able to breath without Arthur's touch.
Arthur laughed quietly, enjoying the rumble that came with Lancelot's 'mmmm' through his throat, vibrating Arthur's lips.
Arthur moved his head slowly, staring into the other man's eyes, the green and brown completing each other.
He raised an eyebrow, something he found he was getting quite good at, and smiled in what he thought was a lacivious manner. "You know...if you keep putting your hands in my hair, I'll do pretty much whatever you desire," he said, his voice husky.
It was amazing and sort of embarassing how fast just a few kisses could make him into a rubber man, willing to do anything for one touch from the knight.
"Mmmm, and if you keep doing that, I may start agreeing with everything you say," Lancelot replied, returning the smile. "And we know that that wouldn't be good for any of us," he teased, playing gently with Arthur's curls.
"Only two days," he whispered, almost talking to himself - so softly he wasn't sure Arthur would hear him at all, "and I can hardly remember a time before this - can't quite remember how I managed."
"Getting demanding, aren't we," Lancelot teased, making quick work of Arthur's trousers. "Your wish is my command, commander."
He let his lips curl into what he knew was an irrisistable grin, before curling two fingers, one after another, over Arthur's erection, letting his thumb slide languidly over the underside before flicking over the head.
Arthur tried to voice a sound of happiness, but jumped when the other man's hands surrounded him.
"Guh-" he garbled out, then laughed, deep in his throat. "If only....you were...s-so compliant about every command- ah," he finished, sinking one hand into Lancelot's hair, rubbing it slowly about, but careful to avoid the bump on the back.
He writhed at the expert touch, and screwed his eyes closed.
Arthur opened his eyes, and was taken by the amount of heat in the brown eyes that met his.
He hissed as he neared completion, and clenched his hands, which he dropped helplessly to his sides, his body seemingly not under his control - he was dictated by the soft yet torturous touch of the other man.
Comments 95
"You didn't make me," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Don't start fucking going all guilty on me now, Arthur."
Reply
He hailed a passing servant, and told him to get the doctor immediately. "We're not moving until he comes," he told the other man, and promptly sat him down on a tipped over barrel at the edge of the wall.
The doctor came a few moments later, and clucked disapprovingly at the sight of Lancelot's injury bleeding again.
"This man shouldn't be walking, commander," he said, a tone in his voice that Arthur didn't like.
"I realize that - but he also needed to eat something and I didn't want to leave him alone," he snapped back. The doctor was contrite, and a few of his helpers arrived behind him.
"Take this man back to his rooms. He needs his stitches checked," the doctor ordered, but Arthur stopped them.
"He can use mine. They're bigger - and I will be gone in the morning. No sense in dragging somewhere smaller and colder."
He threw a look at Lancelot, who was stewing whilst being checked over.
Reply
When Arthur made no move to help him, he looked exasperately at the doctor. "I'm not going to die and nothing's torn. Leave off!" He glared. "Once I'm in Arthur's room, I can take care of it myself, dammit. Get off!"
When the doctor carried on, ignoring him completely, he turned back to Arthur, looking at him pleadingly. "Please."
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The doctor nodded at his assistants, who hustled Lancelot off toward Arthur's rooms. Arthur winced slightly at the look the other man shot him - he would pay for this for sure.
"His stitches seem to have torn somewhat. It won't take long to fix." The doctor told Arthur, who nodded. "I'll be along with my supplies in just a minute."
Arthur watched as the old man rushed off to get his things, and found himself alone in the courtyard. People and animals swirled about him, and he hesitated, things seeming to blur in his mind momentarily.
One day can last a lifetime...and then you turn around and eight years have gone by.He shook his head, brushing off more legionaires with questions, and followed Lancelot ( ... )
Reply
He sat up, and blew out a shaky breath.
"God, that was quite scary."
I've killed men, and seen enemies and friends die before my eyes. But I turn into a girl the second I see blood on Lancelot? He's been hurt worse before.
"If I can make sure you're all right, I have some sembleance of control - and I can keep you safe. That's important to me. You. Safe. Alive."
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"You've seen worse on me," he whispered, oddly touched but rather annoyed. "What will happen, Arthur, when I'm hurt out there?" He gestured outside. "You need to be able to cope with that, commander."
Truthfully, he was rather afraid of Arthur's reaction to his bleeding. A commander shouldn't have weaknesses - well, those weaknesses shouldn't be one of his knights.
Reply
He stood, and moved away from the bed, running a hand through his hair.
"I have lost too many men to stupid things. Fever, infection, accidents that could have been treated if given the time. I didn't have much experience with such death when I came here, and now, unfortunately, I do. Death is always around us, Lancelot, and I've had it take things from me before their time. Not again. Not if I can do something this time."
He stopped, realizing he was pacing, and sat at his desk, shaking his head.
"No one gets me as excited as you, you know that? It's quite frustrating...and intoxicating as well."
Reply
What are you angry at? Angry that he cares? Or angry that you were so weak and stupid it came to a point where he needed to care?
He didn't have an answer - he knew what it was, but he didn't want to admit it. He closed his eyes and sank back down onto the bed.
"Forget it. Just forget it."
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He brought the hand he'd clasped to his lips, revelling in the other man's warmth. "Don't worry. I'll be okay."
Reply
He smiled when Lancelot's lips brushed the back of his hand, and slid closer.
"How's your side?" he asked, somewhat guiltily. He tilted his head, and looked at the back of the knight's head. "The lump has gone down, too," he said, feeling it very gingerly. He laughed a bit, shaking his head. "You are a mess, you know that?"
"It would be nice to have a few weeks where one of us didn't carry at least one bruise," he added sadly. "I wish that life for you, my friend - but unfortunately, it will not be the case for a while to come."
He forced his bitter thoughts away, recalling the comfort and calm of the chapel, breathing in his own scent, mixed with that of the tangy incense the few monks had brought with them from Rome.
Reply
He smiled back at Arthur. "My side's fine." He nudged Arthur lightly. "I told you, I'll get over it. And yes, I know I'm a mess."
He leant against Arthur, letting the other man's touch chase away the remnants of the nightmares.
Better for him to see you broken, dear, *sweet* knight - Artorius' heart.
He shivered slightly at the memory, shifting closer to Arthur's warmth.
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"You are cold," he murmured, and turned, folding one leg under him. He pushed the other man's hair away from his face, and tugged him into the circle of his arms, brushing his cheek against Lancelot's.
"I'm sorry I was gone so long," he added, "...lots of things happening. But I'm sorry just the same," he trailed off, breathing in the musk of the other man, combined with his own smell. It was strange, and heady.
Reply
"Just know that I'll listen if you need to talk about it," he added.
"...where was I?" he whispered, and brushed his lips across the other man's, pulling away before it could get too intense. He tilted Lancelot's head up gently with his fingertip, and kissed his throat, paying particular attention to the skin underneath the jaw bone. He snaked his tongue out, licking a path around to the other side of Lancelot's face.
Reply
He let Arthur's touch - his warm, loving, caring touch - chase away the remembered coldness, the ice-coated voice and the chilling fear that had come with it.
He mmm-ed, not quite sure what he was agreeing to, but he did it anyway.
He could hardly believe it had been so short a time - because he couldn't remember how he'd been able to breath without Arthur's touch.
Reply
Arthur moved his head slowly, staring into the other man's eyes, the green and brown completing each other.
He raised an eyebrow, something he found he was getting quite good at, and smiled in what he thought was a lacivious manner. "You know...if you keep putting your hands in my hair, I'll do pretty much whatever you desire," he said, his voice husky.
It was amazing and sort of embarassing how fast just a few kisses could make him into a rubber man, willing to do anything for one touch from the knight.
Reply
"Only two days," he whispered, almost talking to himself - so softly he wasn't sure Arthur would hear him at all, "and I can hardly remember a time before this - can't quite remember how I managed."
Reply
He let his lips curl into what he knew was an irrisistable grin, before curling two fingers, one after another, over Arthur's erection, letting his thumb slide languidly over the underside before flicking over the head.
Reply
"Guh-" he garbled out, then laughed, deep in his throat. "If only....you were...s-so compliant about every command- ah," he finished, sinking one hand into Lancelot's hair, rubbing it slowly about, but careful to avoid the bump on the back.
He writhed at the expert touch, and screwed his eyes closed.
Reply
Know it's me you're seeing.
He wrapped his hand more securely around Arthur's cock, stroking slowly, taking his time, trying to draw as many moans as he could from the other man.
Reply
He hissed as he neared completion, and clenched his hands, which he dropped helplessly to his sides, his body seemingly not under his control - he was dictated by the soft yet torturous touch of the other man.
Reply
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