King Arthur Ficlet: Half Awake
Feb. 18th, 2007 12:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
amari_zTitle: Half Awake
Warnings: Explicit Slash
Notes: Quick ficlet written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sasha_b a while ago, but then I forgot about it. She gave me a prompt of “first time,” which was no doubt accompanied by her snickering. I think she might be kind of evil like that. Slightly tongue in cheek response, but mainly because my usual modus operandi is more like this, and I thought she might appreciate something slightly different. I meant to go back and edit this, but it’s not going to happen now.
Lancelot woke with a start, unsure of where he was. The heavy weight pressed against his back and over his chest nearly made him panic, but, a confused moment later, he realized that he was being held by a warm body.
It was not unusual for him to wake up with company, but this was not the type of company he usually kept. It was too big, too heavy, and the arm across Lancelot’s chest was too thick and muscular. And all too evidently male.
Lancelot took a slow, steady breath and forced himself to think past the pounding in his head. He was on a bed, which meant a room, not the stables. A soft bed too, so not the barracks. His straining eyes could make out nothing; the room was pitch black.
Cursing himself, his unknown bedmate, Bors--for who else would have goaded him into drinking so much?--the universe at large, and Rome purely on principle, Lancelot moved in a careful attempt to free himself. With any luck, the man, whoever it was, had been as drunk as Lancelot and would remember nothing. Lancelot could get away and never have to think about this again.
But as Lancelot tried to squirm free, the man behind him stirred, and Lancelot froze. The arm around him tightened and then the man murmured something, his lips feathering over the nape of Lancelot’s neck. Despite himself, Lancelot shivered, and then his eyes widened in realization.
He knew that voice.
In panic, he nearly jerked himself free of the embrace. He could be wrong. Maybe. But no. Now that he realized, he recognized Arthur’s scent, mingled with the unaccustomed musk of sex. Lancelot’s brief flare of hope that he had somehow merely fallen asleep beside Arthur died a feeble and pathetic death. There was no mistaking that scent. Nor the fact that it was bare flesh pressing against Lancelot’s own.
Bloody rutting demons bugger it! What had he done? He bit his lip, and tried to think, all too aware now of the feel of Arthur’s heavy warmth against his back. Of Arthur’s hand like a brand on his hip.
He had been drinking, that much he remembered. Had Arthur even been there? Had Lancelot propositioned him? He blinked at the idea. It was possible, he supposed. Far more imaginable than Arthur making a pass at him. The very thought nearly made him laugh hysterically and a stifled sound escaped him.
To his horror, Arthur stirred again, and Lancelot held his breath as the body behind him shifted, skin moving over skin. A hand touched Lancelot’s face, fingers tracing over Lancelot’s cheek before sliding into his hair. “Lancelot?” It was unmistakably Arthur’s voice. He sounded sleepy and not particularly surprised, or panicked, or upset, or . . . . If Lancelot did not know better, he would say that Arthur sounded . . . happy.
“Hmmph?” was all that Lancelot managed. It was apparently sufficient. Arthur moved, seemingly utterly comfortable with manhandling a naked Lancelot so that they lay face to face. Lancelot was too witless to do anything but let Arthur maneuver him as he pleased. If he had thought of it, he might have been relieved that the room was too dark for Arthur to see his expression.
Arthur’s hands continued to roam over him, lazily, without any specific intent, as though he were merely enjoying the tactile contact. Lancelot tried to think despite his aching head, suddenly queasy stomach and a feeling that was not unlike being left gaping idiotically after a blow to the head from a particularly large blunt object. And he was not distracted by the way Arthur’s hands seemed to leave a trail of shivery heat wherever they touched. No, he was not.
Honestly speaking (something, as a matter of policy, he did no where but in own head), he could not deny that he had entertained a few thoughts of this, but such fancies had always been quickly dismissed. Arthur was a Christian, and Lancelot had believed that all those sanctimonious rules would have prevented even the idea of having sex with a man from occurring to Arthur. More to the point, though, it was unthinkable for Lancelot. Arthur was a Roman and being his friend was bad enough. But to share his bed–
Lancelot gasped in surprise as callused hands slid boldly between his legs, a sound that became a helpless moan as fingers closed around him. And he had been thinking that Arthur would be ignorant of this? There was nothing inexperienced about the way Arthur’s hands moved over him, nor was there anything tentative about the mouth that captured his in a hot, probing kiss. Lancelot was helpless to resist.
This was not the Arthur that Lancelot always teased, who seemed so straight laced and . . . virginal. This was the Arthur that Lancelot knew on the battlefield. Confident. Decisive. Commanding.
It was that Arthur who had Lancelot on his back before he fully realized what had happened and whose fingers were brazenly teasing Lancelot’s opening. If Lancelot had had any doubt about what they had done earlier that night, they vanished as he realized just how sore he was, but it was not pain that made him tense when Arthur’s fingers pressed into him.
Arthur released his mouth, and his hands stilled. Arthur whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Fuck. What to say to that? Who exactly are you and what did you do with the real Arthur? Or What the fuck was I drinking last night? Or maybe, Where, by all the gods, did you learn how to do that with your hands? “My head is pounding,” he heard himself say. There was a breathlessness to his voice that took him off guard.
Arthur chuckled, a sound that Lancelot not only heard, but also felt, as it rumbled through Arthur’s chest. “I’m not surprised.” He did not even sound relieved, the self-possessed son of a bitch, only amused. What had happened last night?
Arthur moved off Lancelot and lay down on his side, but he gathered Lancelot close against him, resting his cheek comfortably against Lancelot’s hair. “Go to sleep, then.”
He seemed to fall asleep quickly enough. Bastard. Lancelot lay awake, staring at the darkness and trying to ignore the disgruntled clamoring of his body.
He had slept with Arthur. And Arthur, far from being horrified, seemed not to be so much as batting an eye. In fact, he seemed to think it would be happening again.
Lancelot was Sarmatian. He had let a Roman fuck him. Even if that Roman was Arthur, he knew what the others would be thinking. What he himself could not help thinking.
Lancelot lay awake for the rest of the night, listening to the wind howl and chewing on his lip until it bleed, but making no move to free himself from Arthur’s arms.
Warnings: Explicit Slash
Notes: Quick ficlet written for
sasha_b a while ago, but then I forgot about it. She gave me a prompt of “first time,” which was no doubt accompanied by her snickering. I think she might be kind of evil like that. Slightly tongue in cheek response, but mainly because my usual modus operandi is more like this, and I thought she might appreciate something slightly different. I meant to go back and edit this, but it’s not going to happen now.Lancelot woke with a start, unsure of where he was. The heavy weight pressed against his back and over his chest nearly made him panic, but, a confused moment later, he realized that he was being held by a warm body.
It was not unusual for him to wake up with company, but this was not the type of company he usually kept. It was too big, too heavy, and the arm across Lancelot’s chest was too thick and muscular. And all too evidently male.
Lancelot took a slow, steady breath and forced himself to think past the pounding in his head. He was on a bed, which meant a room, not the stables. A soft bed too, so not the barracks. His straining eyes could make out nothing; the room was pitch black.
Cursing himself, his unknown bedmate, Bors--for who else would have goaded him into drinking so much?--the universe at large, and Rome purely on principle, Lancelot moved in a careful attempt to free himself. With any luck, the man, whoever it was, had been as drunk as Lancelot and would remember nothing. Lancelot could get away and never have to think about this again.
But as Lancelot tried to squirm free, the man behind him stirred, and Lancelot froze. The arm around him tightened and then the man murmured something, his lips feathering over the nape of Lancelot’s neck. Despite himself, Lancelot shivered, and then his eyes widened in realization.
He knew that voice.
In panic, he nearly jerked himself free of the embrace. He could be wrong. Maybe. But no. Now that he realized, he recognized Arthur’s scent, mingled with the unaccustomed musk of sex. Lancelot’s brief flare of hope that he had somehow merely fallen asleep beside Arthur died a feeble and pathetic death. There was no mistaking that scent. Nor the fact that it was bare flesh pressing against Lancelot’s own.
Bloody rutting demons bugger it! What had he done? He bit his lip, and tried to think, all too aware now of the feel of Arthur’s heavy warmth against his back. Of Arthur’s hand like a brand on his hip.
He had been drinking, that much he remembered. Had Arthur even been there? Had Lancelot propositioned him? He blinked at the idea. It was possible, he supposed. Far more imaginable than Arthur making a pass at him. The very thought nearly made him laugh hysterically and a stifled sound escaped him.
To his horror, Arthur stirred again, and Lancelot held his breath as the body behind him shifted, skin moving over skin. A hand touched Lancelot’s face, fingers tracing over Lancelot’s cheek before sliding into his hair. “Lancelot?” It was unmistakably Arthur’s voice. He sounded sleepy and not particularly surprised, or panicked, or upset, or . . . . If Lancelot did not know better, he would say that Arthur sounded . . . happy.
“Hmmph?” was all that Lancelot managed. It was apparently sufficient. Arthur moved, seemingly utterly comfortable with manhandling a naked Lancelot so that they lay face to face. Lancelot was too witless to do anything but let Arthur maneuver him as he pleased. If he had thought of it, he might have been relieved that the room was too dark for Arthur to see his expression.
Arthur’s hands continued to roam over him, lazily, without any specific intent, as though he were merely enjoying the tactile contact. Lancelot tried to think despite his aching head, suddenly queasy stomach and a feeling that was not unlike being left gaping idiotically after a blow to the head from a particularly large blunt object. And he was not distracted by the way Arthur’s hands seemed to leave a trail of shivery heat wherever they touched. No, he was not.
Honestly speaking (something, as a matter of policy, he did no where but in own head), he could not deny that he had entertained a few thoughts of this, but such fancies had always been quickly dismissed. Arthur was a Christian, and Lancelot had believed that all those sanctimonious rules would have prevented even the idea of having sex with a man from occurring to Arthur. More to the point, though, it was unthinkable for Lancelot. Arthur was a Roman and being his friend was bad enough. But to share his bed–
Lancelot gasped in surprise as callused hands slid boldly between his legs, a sound that became a helpless moan as fingers closed around him. And he had been thinking that Arthur would be ignorant of this? There was nothing inexperienced about the way Arthur’s hands moved over him, nor was there anything tentative about the mouth that captured his in a hot, probing kiss. Lancelot was helpless to resist.
This was not the Arthur that Lancelot always teased, who seemed so straight laced and . . . virginal. This was the Arthur that Lancelot knew on the battlefield. Confident. Decisive. Commanding.
It was that Arthur who had Lancelot on his back before he fully realized what had happened and whose fingers were brazenly teasing Lancelot’s opening. If Lancelot had had any doubt about what they had done earlier that night, they vanished as he realized just how sore he was, but it was not pain that made him tense when Arthur’s fingers pressed into him.
Arthur released his mouth, and his hands stilled. Arthur whispered, “What’s wrong?”
Fuck. What to say to that? Who exactly are you and what did you do with the real Arthur? Or What the fuck was I drinking last night? Or maybe, Where, by all the gods, did you learn how to do that with your hands? “My head is pounding,” he heard himself say. There was a breathlessness to his voice that took him off guard.
Arthur chuckled, a sound that Lancelot not only heard, but also felt, as it rumbled through Arthur’s chest. “I’m not surprised.” He did not even sound relieved, the self-possessed son of a bitch, only amused. What had happened last night?
Arthur moved off Lancelot and lay down on his side, but he gathered Lancelot close against him, resting his cheek comfortably against Lancelot’s hair. “Go to sleep, then.”
He seemed to fall asleep quickly enough. Bastard. Lancelot lay awake, staring at the darkness and trying to ignore the disgruntled clamoring of his body.
He had slept with Arthur. And Arthur, far from being horrified, seemed not to be so much as batting an eye. In fact, he seemed to think it would be happening again.
Lancelot was Sarmatian. He had let a Roman fuck him. Even if that Roman was Arthur, he knew what the others would be thinking. What he himself could not help thinking.
Lancelot lay awake for the rest of the night, listening to the wind howl and chewing on his lip until it bleed, but making no move to free himself from Arthur’s arms.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-18 05:57 pm (UTC)So well done. *loves*
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Date: 2007-02-18 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-18 06:21 pm (UTC)This was not the Arthur that Lancelot always teased, who seemed so straight laced and . . . virginal. This was the Arthur that Lancelot knew on the battlefield. Confident. Decisive. Commanding.
That line is brillant and made me go all into a puddle of drool. That is certainly the 'Arthur' I'd like to have in my bed. *g* And no wonder L is so befuddled. Tee hee.
Great fic dear...loved it.
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Date: 2007-02-18 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-18 06:24 pm (UTC)Heehee! I know this is AU, but I can just imagine ResL, a lifetime and then some removed, reminiscing about this moment, still wondering how the fuck this all ever happened, and still thinking bastard, half-curse, half term of endearment.
Somehow, I prefer this version of their first time to any of the more romantic scenarios I've come across. Typical A & L, LOL!
no subject
Date: 2007-02-18 10:18 pm (UTC)Actually, whenever it finally gets a telling, you'll see that this is really quite nice compared to teh crack version. :p
I can't actually buy them having a romantic first time myself--which is why Ash's prompt to me made me do a spit take, esp since she asked me to write her something to cheer her up. Really, what was she thinking giving me those kinds of mixed signals? And since when have I ever actually written something that cheered anyone up?
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Date: 2007-02-19 01:48 am (UTC)Oh, really, now. Tease! :p
Yeah, I believe that this most maddening kind of love affair resulted out of a big WTF (in this case, who'd I fuck?!) moment between A&L. That, or it was a case of L deciding to indulge in a bit of nihilism, and it was either kill the Roman or fuck him.
BTW, having had a much similar experience last year (though with someone who didn't end up being THE one, but whom I had good fun with for a bit), I can tell you that you captured the waking moments perfectly.
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Date: 2007-02-19 03:36 am (UTC)I'm nothing if not a tease. Hah! I was hoping to work on teh crack today, but I think my brain is broken--brokener (shut up).
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Date: 2007-02-19 03:10 am (UTC)*grumps*
Remember The Butterfly Alights?
Meh. This did cheer me up, you big blockhead. :p
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Date: 2007-02-19 03:33 am (UTC)Well, glad if it did make you happy. : )
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Date: 2007-02-19 01:49 am (UTC)Loved it, simply loved it.
Shelley
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Date: 2007-02-19 03:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 02:59 am (UTC)"This was not the Arthur that Lancelot always teased, who seemed so straight laced and . . . virginal. This was the Arthur that Lancelot knew on the battlefield. Confident. Decisive. Commanding."
Oh yes, this is the Arthur that I love. But, poor Lancelot...*snicker* Such an angst puppy!
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Date: 2007-02-19 03:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-19 03:07 am (UTC)And Arthur's trying to find the words to reply to L's post. He did one of his own yesterday too.
*smooch*
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Date: 2007-02-19 03:28 am (UTC)The whole taking muses thing doesn't really lend itself well to conversations does it? Or maybe it's just me--I cannot roleplay. At all.
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Date: 2007-02-19 04:50 am (UTC)You're right though in that that format is not conducive to conversations. Sometimes it works - most times not.
I have ... er, the commander has enjoyed the two ladies who comment on his journal entries, though. *laughs*
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Date: 2007-02-27 12:15 am (UTC)Thank you again.
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Date: 2007-02-27 01:33 am (UTC)Thanks so much for taking the time to let me know. : )
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Date: 2009-09-17 02:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-10 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-10 08:46 pm (UTC)Friended you.
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Date: 2010-02-16 09:45 pm (UTC)The place to start is
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Date: 2010-02-17 03:18 am (UTC)And this is especially fun as I'm reading in the Merlin fandom--that show is so bad, it's strangely good! *haz it bad*
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Date: 2010-02-23 06:08 pm (UTC)Edited to add point to the Mary Renault fandom. http://community.livejournal.com/maryrenaultfics/ Have you read her original Alexander the Great and Ancient Greek fiction?
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Date: 2010-03-05 06:29 pm (UTC)I have read most of Mary Renault's books. My favorites are The Charioteer and The Last of the Wine.
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Date: 2010-03-06 06:32 am (UTC)Finally watched KA the other night. I love the slant to the legend--it has elements of plausibility, although the Guinevere idea (among some others) was a bit over the top. lol. Lancelot? Oh, my! The slash aspects were very nice. *nods* I have your A/L fics eagerly bookmarked for when RL stops eating my brain. I WILL HAVE MY REWARD! *glares at universe* Oh, yes I will.
I love the SH movie, but I love bookverse and TV verse fanfic better than movieverse. The movie is so slashy there's little left to invent! :D Plus, bookverse/TV verse has been around longer and seems to have consistently drawn more highly literate participants. Much bookmarking going on in that fandom, to be sure.
Maybe you'll be inspired to come back for some fun soon?
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Date: 2010-03-07 07:56 pm (UTC)The KA movie is pretty much over the top all together, starting from it's claim that it's the real story--never mind that it gets basic chronology wrong. But if it was well constructed . . . .
Hopefully, I'll have time for some fun soon, and so will you!
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Date: 2010-03-08 03:02 am (UTC)hee hee. Fun though...
I had to laugh and cringe quite a few times regarding the costumes. (I'm a costumer) I kept getting thrown out of the story every time they showed up wearing new and outrageously elaborate (pretty!) armor without any battle damage, and with a boat-load of pristine weaponry. What? o.0 How about even one squire or servant on their trip? Lol! I wish I could turn off my brain sometimes.
Well, I hope you come back to play someday. I look forward to seeing what you get into. :D My latest theater gig opens this weekend. I usually go into a fic gorge as a reward. I'll have to take a look at your A/L fic.
See you around!
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Date: 2010-03-08 07:39 pm (UTC)Hope your play goes well and that you get to gorge yourself to satiation!
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Date: 2010-03-09 04:48 am (UTC)I noticed that too. About the equivalent of getting out of your tank to do some shooting. Also, Hello! ...just your most expensive, important military item there--your horse. And again... Um, squires? horse-catching servants? :D
Anyhoo...I'll check back in with you after some fic-reading. Maybe I'll look up your rant. ~_^