phenomenon: mutual epiphany

[ritterstand]

Lancelot is tired. The tiredness is different from the that when he was trapped in the dungeon or travelling across the skydoms with the crew of the Grandcypher. It's a tiredness that isn't borne out of physical fatigue, but rather one emerges after long nights of reading endless reams of paper and still be presentable at an audience with the King at 9AM. A job that is happily done but taxes itself on the body heavily. But it is a duty and it is a duty he will carry out well to the best of his ability.

He slumps in his chair behind the grand desk assigned to him in this stately office and sighs deeply as he pushes aside the pile of paper next to him. The recruitment was something that required a lot of his time and attention despite being able to delegate most of it. Now that the hardest part was done, it was time for the formalities of the situation to come to a head. But the letters meld into one another and he debates with himself - is it time to call it a night?

Lancelot decides against it and steels himself. Regardless of what Vane or anyone would say, he needs to continue. It's times like these that Lancelot wishes he had an ounce of Siegfried's being. He made all of this look effortless. He has to remind himself what has happened around him and the accomplishments he had borne witness to and now he must live up to them. The recruitment went well, Vane and Team Chickadee were better than he could have hoped for and it was a promising future for Feendrache.

He needs to pull his weight. He must.

Standing up, he busies himself by making another pot of coffee. He had never been one to drinking the bitter liquid but after a number of late nights requiring some mental acuity, he found himself drinking more and more of it. In fact, he's even enjoying the taste.

Blearily, he rubs his eyes as he watches the kettle boil. Hopefully nobody sees him like this, otherwise there's going to be a lot of explaining to be had.

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[ritterstand]

When Percival gives him that respite to breathe, Lancelot can hardly believe how considerate Percival was at this moment. He had always imagined that Percival would be the type to just take everything at full throttle, because there was a kind of appealing selfishness that Percival had that Lancelot always wondered about. He would never admit it but occasionally he did find himself idly thinking about how it would go with his friend, pushing the boundary between friend and something more --

And here's his chance now. The boundaries between what he considered Percival are considerably blurred at this point as he feel the other's lips on his skin - tasting him, feeling every part of him that's available to touch. And this is beyond what he had imagined happening. If Percival was concerned with committing everything to memory, Lancelot was concerned with letting this entire world of sensations opening themselves up to him.

"I, my apologies Percival." murmurs Lancelot against Percival's lips weakly as he doesn't resist the other in the slightest. "I won't hide it."

There was something irrevocably tempting about this scenario. It was something straight out of a tawdry romance novel but Percival was the type of character who would be the love interest in those kinds of novels. Never in a million years did Lancelot think he was going to be the subject of his affections, or rather he didn't dare to let himself think that. The inexperienced protege and the sower of temptations leading him...

Lancelot turns his head and with his free hand, turns the other's cheek so that they were facing each other once again. Trying not to let his nervousness show, he dives in again for a kiss this time as opposed to those light interludes - something with fervor and a lot more tongue.

[torchlit]

Lancelot isn't wrong about that selfishness, and he certainly could use it (and does) on others, but again... it's different. It's different because they aren't hormonal teenagers, anymore, possibly looking for a thrill in the moment, looking to satiate a curiosity rather than so much as act on a very real longing that he has had for quite some time. It's different because Lancelot isn't some noble looking to Percival as an object or opportunity to increase their influence rather than a human being. It's different because it's Lancelot.

That apology is... so innocent in its sincerity, so much that he is tempted to actually assure the other that it is not really something so serious. He doesn't, however, merely letting the smallest smile grace his lips, instead. It's cute.

He is caught off guard with Lancelot's decision to make such a move when it happens, though. Not only is it bold to initiate but the intimate use of tongue and the passion behind it... well, he supposes that he felt, despite Lancelot's words of wants and needs, that he wouldn't have the courage to do anything but take what was offered to him.

In no way is this a poor surprise—but it's still a surprise nevertheless. Percival finds himself perhaps even the smallest bit impressed by his longtime friend and rival's agency. The initial hitch of his breath that he had been absentmindedly holding as a result of Lancelot's boldness is released in an amused sigh. His eyes that had widened in his state of shock narrow until they are shut closed even as he leans in a bit to press into the open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue along one so boldly trespassing in his mouth instead of the other way around.

He... could easily get used to the idea of this type of behavior from Lancelot (as if it's going to happen again, he's getting far too ahead of himself. He's not sure what exactly it is that triggered Lancelot's lust so suddenly here nevermind know what the other is actually feeling being physical signs) . For now, he'll leave such complicating possibilities for later.

Indulging in what—who—he has in this moment is all that matters.

Stepping back, Percival pulls Lancelot away from the wall by the waist, continuing to leading with his back until he feels the three seat of the captain's chair up against the back of his legs. Only now does he (reluctantly) pull away from the other man's lips (and subconsciously lick at his own to steal and savor as much of Lancelot's taste that lingers there as he can even though they've delayed momentarily) he lowers himself to sit. Not once does he take his eyes off of his knighthood friend, keeping one arm firmly around his waist to have him as close to Percival as he can be without getting onto his lap.

The way he looks up at him, however, is a silent beckoning for Lancelot to do just that.

[ritterstand]

There are things that Lancelot wants despite his relative inexperience in these matters. Currently they all circle around Percival. He felt lost when the other knight left Feendrache and Lancelot knew that he would have to work doubly as hard to catch up to the other knight's brilliance. He knew that if he wanted to look Percival in the eye without any doubt in them, he needed to learn beyond what Feendrache offered him. In a way, he had a certain captain to thank for that...

The way that Percival was breathing in sync with him, their hearts beating to a similar frenzied rhythm as they stumbled upon the room - not really caring about what they knocked over in the process. He could hear something clattering onto the floor but he doesn't care, not when he could just keep kissing Percival as if his life depended on it.

He settles onto Percival's lap clumsily, his knees resting on the chair while he shifts his weight on to the other man's hips and Lancelot is keenly aware of how erect he actually is. Shifting his sitting position again, he moans as he finds himself enjoying the friction he got from the contact between their bodies.

Exhaling, Lancelot wraps his arms around Percival's neck and leans in, his forehead pressed against the Lord of Flames so that he could see those burning eyes and feel ensconced in them.

"I've never... done this in anywhere besides a bed." admits Lancelot bashfully in a low whisper.

[torchlit]

The immediate response to such a enticing enticing sound escaping Lancelot is to use his hands settled firmly on such delightfully defined hips to pull the other even closer. Ultimately, one of Percival's hands moves, away from just clutching at bone structure underneath skin but wrapping around the knight captain until he can run his fingers and palm across the man's ass to press them flush against one another and make that friction stronger between them in Lancelot's movements. Percival wants to feel it (get a real taste of what Lancelot is so sensitive to), too and he is intrigued by Lancelot's shy admittance. On the outside, it manifests itself as a familiar smirk, and he speaks quietly. "Heh, you never were so adventurous for such a bold thing, so that's unsurprising," he mocks even as one hand begins prying to undo that clasps at the other's waist, letting his fingers initially glide over the obvious bulge that's being sported by the other man.

Truthfully, if he had it his way, this also would unfold in the bedroom—his own specifically because for all his numerous little flings he had never once bedded any of them in his room. Not in Wales, not in Feendrache, and certainly not on the Grand Cypher, either. He doesn't know if someone or even someones has already slept with Lancelot in the other's or not, and he won't take that chance of any potential for memories thinking about doing it with others randomly getting thrown into their thoughts because the mind can be a funny thing without any sense to it whatsoever.

(Lancelot is his now. For the moment, for the night, and much longer if he is allowed.)

"Do you prefer a bed, Lancelot?" he asks once he's tilted his head enough that he can keep contact at their foreheads while easily still ghosting his lips and leaving his words across his rival's own. "I would be more than delighted to do it with you on a bed and give you an experience there unknown to you, regardless of matter how many others you've been with."

He's well confident in his sexual prowess (and not without reason, but still).

"Think about it, I'll ask you again after I've claimed you here." His and no one else's, ( and that includes Lancelot belonging to Feendrache, as well ) .

"More dire is my question for you: how do you want it? Shall I take you on the desk or would you rather go for a ride? "

... Not that it really matters, he is going to have many more opportunities to passionately make love to the other every possible way if he is ultimately successful. He just needs to be patient for now... Even if he doesn't want to be, even if he wants to thrust into the other so intensely without end that it overwhelms Lancelot's awareness of reality—until he forgets who he even is because the ecstacy felt is the only thing his entire existence can focus on— that and begging for more.

[ritterstand]

There's a small exhalation of breath as Lancelot shudders against Percival's touch ghosting over his still clothed yet hard member and he tries to move his hips upwards to get more of that contact. A small gutteral groan of aching for something beyond him. The fact that Percival is offering it to him is a tantalising prospect and he can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He moves his arms from around Percival's neck to have his hands rest on the other man's chest, clinging on to the shirt there with a grasp of his fingers. Lancelot doesn't quite believe he's here, in this position and yet here he was, Percival's desire for him laid bare right in front of him.

If it were possible for Lancelot to flush deeper at what was being said, he just did there. He doesn't offer a response, merely looking extremely flustered at the thought that the other man was going to show him an even better time than what he's going to offer him now. It also meant that Percival wanted to do this again, that this wasn't just some impulse of the moment and for that his heart beat just a tad faster. Percival was deadly serious in wanting him this way and... well, that was a lot to take on especially his feelings towards the other man (of which there were numerous and plenty, ranging from the mundane to the complex.)

"I want to see you." murmurs Lancelot as he gently sticks his tongue out and gives Percival's lips a gentle lick with them. He could get used to this; the way that Percival seems to want him. He's perfectly happy to be claimed in this manner and he can feel his inhibitions coming undone slowly. If Percival was going to guide him through them, then who was he to refuse?

He's allowing himself to be more honest about his thoughts here as he slowly rolls his hips against the other, noting a certain bulge pressed up hard against him. "To be wanted by you in this way is thrilling."

[torchlit]

Lancelot is playing with fire acting like that, taking an initiative and displaying such forwardness... but to hell if Percival doesn't like it.

With Lancelot rolling his hips like that against him Percival is immediately using his arm wrapping around to grope the others ass as a means to grind them both together even more than initially allowed by Lancelot's actions alone.

He'll return the affection given by Lancelot's tongue with his own, tempting the other man to come closer and stay there even as his hands now slide to grip at Lancelot's waist and slowly move in to begin undoing the buttons and ties keeping the others trousers up and in the way.

(Of course, he'll get to his own cock-freeing, this just has to come first because he needs to get that obstructive clothing removed to fuck him at all unless he's content with just fingering Lancelot into climax.

Spoilers, he's certainly not.)

He lifts and pulls and guides Lancelot to work with him to remove the garment easily as he distracts the other with full kisses and his tongue and teeth work diligently to prevent the white dragon captain from letting his thoughts wander too far, if at all—by the end of this Lancelot is going to only be able to crave for more, beg for one cock only.

Percival guarantees it—he's never going to let it end until it is reality.

[ritterstand]

He doesn't get a moment to think too hard about what's happening, because Percival is being very good at what he does. Lancelot can barely get a breath out in between Percival working swiftly to disrobe him and his mouth working it's magic on him. Letting his trousers and underwear fall off and pool around his ankles, he settles back on Percival's lap and Lancelot's hands wander to find skin on skin contact - nimbly working on undoing the other man's trousers too.

The thought does cross his mind about how indecent this whole situation is, how this is the kind of situation he only envisioned in idle thoughts that never really went anywhere - only disappearing into the aether as soon as they popped into his head. He was too busy, too dedicated to Feendrache to take care of himself in this manner - which meant that he let it build up and threaten to overwhelm him. He's glad that Percival was able to... indulge him, to say the least. He won't let Percival not be preoccupied by him as he kissed back with all the fervour he could muster.

Finally, Lancelot manages to pull away - breathing heavily as he can barely hold himself back despite every thought in his head telling him to slow down and not get too ahead of himself.

"Percival..." he murmurs. "Fuck me."

Lancelot pulls back from Percival to rest on his ass, stealthily kicking his bottoms away as best as he could despite the swollen erection between his legs. He lifts his legs up, keenly aware that Percival is watching him and his every move. Without much further ado, he reaches down in between his legs to spread himself wide, as much as he could for Percival in this position.

"Please." he continues, face flushed at how much of himself he's putting on show.

[torchlit]

Percival is watching very closely every detail with focused precision and his eyes are wide but not with shock. It's a rather predatory look of barely there restraint as he takes in the situation before him, silently warning Lancelot that he's treading into unsafe waters.

And, oh, how very much Lancelot isn't helping him obtain any success in his restraint with such a performance. It takes all he can muster to not grab Lancelot and slam him down on his dick right then and there. With only slight movement as to not lose control he brings one hand to stroke his own erection to placate it (—as little good it does with Lancelot offering up his ass and even using his own fingers to open himself in desperate invitation—) just a little longer. While his other hand moves towards Lancelot, shoving two fingers into Lancelot's presented ass, the lord of Wales leans in just enough to make sure he's heard as an amused hiss escapes him.

"Well, well... so even the captain of the order with all his by-the-book rules can be a slut for cock, who knew," he observes, there just the slightest hint of excitement in his tone, that sort of sharp-edged anticipation not quite so different than his on his expression, electrifying throughout his body.

He had planned to do this all gradually, and while in the chair but something about that filthy little display and that position Lancelot takes on... well, he changes his mind. Lancelot only has himself to blame for any discomfort once he is thrust into for the first time tonight. He doesn't want Lancelot in his lap on even level with him anymore, he wants his rival beneath him and writhing uncontrollably just like the sounds he'll make.

That's how Lancelot ends up laid out on his own desk and Percival above, being sure to press his hands firmly on either side of his rival and cage him. (... Or at least, both hands will cage him after he takes enough time to finger fuck the other a few times, alternating to spreading his two fingers in a scissoring motion and moving back into that ass again; after he's removed his now damp fingers and lets his hand wander back gather up more precum from his own dick before bringing it back to offer out his fingers covered in liquid sex up to Lancelot's lips—)

"What else do you have to show me, Lancelot? What kind of face are you willing to make for it?" He's well aware of how shy the other was in general over this sort of thing and the embarrassed feeling of being so lewd, but Percival wants to see more of that. It may embarrass the other, but Percival already can't get enough of it. "Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you." As he speaks, he shifts back (only a little, though) to reach for his own erection again, this time guiding it to press up against the other's opening.

"Tell me you only want me, that you're mine." (Percival wants affirmation this is real, that Lancelot isn't playing him simply to get off with a one night stand. Percival wants Lancelot very aware of the exact same thing, he wants any lingering doubts gone from the both of them.)" Tell me."

He wants to see exactly how desperate Lancelot really is to be asking to be fucked raw.

Make no mistakes, though. He will give exactly what Lancelot wants.

[ritterstand]

At first he's worried that he may have done something to turn Percival off him, but that couldn't be anything further from the truth. That much became quickly obvious when he feels Percival staring at him with an unwavering intensity that would make most people wilt away. Not Lancelot though. He's seen that look, variations of it throughout the years. Usually though, it was the same look that he saw when he saw Percival across him on the battlefield, eyes fixed on him with a look that burned with the acknowledgement that Lancelot was his rival and the only one who could match him. But now... now this was something else.

He can't help but squirm when he feels those fingers going inside of him, opening him up and Lancelot moans, unabashedly at how he wants more than those slender digits inside of him. Not helping his case particularly when he's called a slut and locked in between Percival's arms. All he can see is Percival, all he can sense is the other man and it's almost suffocating. But if anything, Lancelot wants more. He'd take all of Percival's dick straight into his ass, because he's aching and he's wracked with the need to just not be in his head.

With lidded eyes, he keeps his eyes on Percival's as he opens his mouth and lets his tongue dart out to lick those proffered fingers. At first it's a flick of his tongue, licking the stringy liquid on there with a barely there touch. But he takes more of the tip of that finger into his mouth, sucking on it gently and sensuously. He wants Percival to know he's serious, he's here to be taken by him. And he'll use any means necessary to convince him of that fact.

"I'm --" begins Lancelot, pressing himself up against Percival's body with his own, wanting to feel more of that warmth. "I'm yours. I need you now... and later. And for the foreseeable future."

It wasn't a bad thing to admit, that he wanted to be possessed in this way. He was so used to being in control, in keeping everything in order than Percival was a welcome conflagration of emotions and feelings that was beyond reason. And he'd indulge and that over and over again if he could. Even though Feendrache has his soul and mind, Percival probably has his heart (and his body) at this point.

[torchlit]

It's a good enough answer, he supposes. There are a lot of loopholes and other such things but considering it's Lancelot the potential of it being used in that kind of way in the aftermath is next-to-zero.

Of course, he doesn't expect too much currently, either, because there's been no establishment of what... ever this is that is furiously unraveling between them. Perhaps it's nothing new, perhaps it's merely been there all along waiting for the right circumstances to make itself known. Something about it seems sincere enough, too, even without the words directly said. Even if Percival only voices the more debased variants of sex rather than anything that sounds like it could carry feelings along with it, it's not particularly hard to tell there are feelings behind lust driving his actions.

For all the lewdness, the double verbal consent to this satisfies Percival in giving Lancelot a chance to correct his mistake before it went too far, should he have considered this interaction such.

Pulling his hand from Lancelot's mouth, he moves to gently brush the pad of his thumb against Lancelot's cheek lovingly before moving away as he brings his hand to grip on one thigh of the other man's. He makes sure that his partner is properly lifted and angled enough before Percival moves to actually push himself inside.

It's certainly a strange sensation even if Percival has done this countless times before (and will continue to do so... although, he finds himself vaguely hoping that he 'll be continuing specially with the man beneath him rather than any others). Lancelot is tight enough that it makes getting past the natural rejection from his body more of an effort than wishful thinking would like.

Its fine to Percival, however, so long as Lancelot can bare it. Because while that squeezing muscle around his dick is not exactly what he would call the ideal pressure for extracting pleasure, it's quite tantalizing in what it suggests to come. Percival grimaces slightly as he pushes steadily forward while in a slow manner—despite Lancelot's impatience (his very own impatience, even)—as well as works to be steady and quick as possible with care. He has no interest in hurting Lancelot by slamming right into him, nor does he (either of them, to be honest) have the patience to take forever and inch along progress while drawing out the pain.

Leaning down, he presses his lips to Lancelot's, murmuring between kisses words of affection and encouragement, letting him know how good he feels to be inside of, that he'll make sure it'll feel just as good for the other as soon as possible at each sound or flinch in discomfort from the other. He caters and soothes and comforts, offering a multitude of distractions to ease the pain (because Lancelot is no better off with that inevitable unpleasantness no matter how badly he wants dick all the way inside him.

The only halt in movement is once Percival is fully inside Lancelot without the possibility of even an inch further left to take advantage of. A puffed sigh escapes him before leaning in once more to nip affectionately at the underside of Lancelot's jaw. And he waits a moment, taking the time to focus on his lover and be particularly mindful of the other man. He wants him adjusted to this as best as possible, so it feels less like something to endure until it feels more like pleasure than not rather than force him through the process to the 'good part' . If he was going to do the latter, then he would have skipped quite a few actions taken to arrive to this point already.

"Tell me when you're ready for more," he whispers before returning to letting his tongue and lips explore skin in slow sensual actions meant to distract and please. That includes dragging one hand down Lancelot's side and draw inwards to finally to brush along the length of the other man's exposed erection.

[ritterstand]

Lancelot is impatient if only because his body is absolutely craving it. He absolutely wants it more than anything else right now, to feel Percival inside of him and making a mess of him. All Lancelot can think about right now is how good it'll feel soon, how much he's enjoying Percival hovering above him and blurring out everything else at this moment in time.

But what he's not enjoying is Percival taking his sweet time with him. Before Lancelot can really protest anything, he lets out a yelp of surprise from feeling Percival's dick slide into him. Sure the process is long and harder than it needs to be (just like Percival's dick at this point in time) but Lancelot is willing to bear through the unpleasant part because he knows that beyond that short duration of pain. (Hopefully it is short, otherwise Percival is going to have a lot to answer for on his supposed sexual prowess.)

Lancelot's squirming at how full he feels, unable to form proper words as he finds himself completely distracted by Percival's little actions - small mewls of pleasure as he finds himself looking up hopefully with a barely focused gaze as he tried to relax his entire body as much as he could. But it was difficult, really difficult with how much he just wanted to squeeze around Percival's cock and make the other man unable to control himself. As much as he enjoys Percival being domineering and overpowering, Lancelot wants to see Percival completely lose it. And if he's the one to do it, so much the better.

His fingers dig into the table below him, suddenly acutely aware of how Percival was fully in him. Lancelot's eyes come back into focus, just a tiny bit as he lets out a long exhalation of breath and shivered, enjoying that deeply satisfying sensation of being filled and those fingers brushing over his swollen erection.

"Nngh." is all Lancelot manages as he moves his hips up against Percival's cock, showing that he just wants to be taken right now. "Percival, I want you to move..." Consequences be damned if this hurts afterwards, he's already this far into it and all he wants to feel is to be consumed by Percival entirely.