sunburned | (no subject)

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laurence,
timeloop

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And this is bloody intolerable. By his count, it's been fourteen nights, which means fourteen days. Fourteen weddings and fourteen chances for Anahuarque to turn to him with that particular look in her eye. Some of the nights have been easier than others - sometimes, he's risen to the occasion and others, he hasn't. For her part, Anahuarque seems genuinely kind. There's something particularly hard in the way she leans in to him, her hair loose around her shoulders, and touches his face.

His arm bothers him and he drinks a lot.

He's not sure when exactly it happens. It's as though something entirely snaps inside his head. Tonight is one of the nights when it does not go well, when he takes time to please her in other ways and then lies beside her, open-eyed, until her breathing levels and slows.

Drunk as he is, there's only one place that he can go.

He walks in without knocking.

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The kiss was utterly unlike any of the -admittedly few-times he had kissed or been kissed by women. It was, however, not at all unpleasant, a fact that worried Laurence a great deal. "Granby. This is-- You are not yourself," he said finally, pulling back far enough to speak and glance at the drink he had abandoned not so very long ago.

"I'm entirely myself, though I don't necessarily feel like it," he says, following the line of Laurence's gaze down to the bottle. Carefully, Granby leans down and moves the bottle out of the way before he slides down onto his knees, so he's leaning up into it when he presses another kiss to Laurence's mouth, this one more insistent than the one that came before.

Just as the kiss had been rather confusingly pleasant, Granby's current behavior unleashed a torrent of conflicting emotions from Laurence. On the one hand it was his friend, a fellow officer, a man whose life he had saved and who had saved his own in return on more than one occasion, who was now down on his knees before him. Yet, it could not be denied that what he was doing continued to be quite nice from a purely physical standpoint.

Edited 2012-07-30 16:56 (UTC)

Granby's neither so foolish nor so green as to push too hard - even with so much liquor inside him, he knows what he's about. He stays on his knees, hand resting against Laurence's thigh, now, and pushes into the kiss with more urgency, careful not to push too much but urging it deeper, all the same.

It's easier if he doesn't think about just how many times he's thought about doing exactly this.

In a move that took him somewhat by surprise, Laurence eventually found himself returning the kiss, far more hesitant than Granby, yes, but not by any means as passive as he had been. If it was only one kiss, executed merely to help a friend, what harm might it do? Laurence had known men who had done far worse with no apparent stain on their character.

He feels the shift in Laurence - the moment when he kisses him back. This time, Granby pushes a little higher on his knees, nudging at Laurence's mouth, seeking to press the kiss deeper with his tongue.

He makes a soft sound against Laurence's mouth.
It's easy enough to forget how badly everything's gone to hell.

While Granby may have been able to forget, Laurence was not half able to lose himself so completely. For, even it was only a kiss, it was still a kiss that went against years of what he had been taught was right as well as what he thought of himself. Finally he pulled back, looking at Granby uncertainly.

There's colour burning in his cheeks when Laurence pulls back and Granby's seen that look before, on other faces. He drags in a breath, his hand tightening, for a moment on Laurence's thigh.

"Would it be so very bad," he says, quietly. "To get even more lost than we are, for a moment or two?"

Laurence could could feel the flush in his face as he looked down at Granby. "John, you are one of my dearest friends and I would not wish to--" He sighed, uncertain of how put his thoughts into words. "I would not wish to risk that."

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head, thumb stroking against the seam that traced Laurence's inner thigh, just above the knee.

"I'm not proposing marriage, Will," he says, gentle. "We need not ever speak of any of this again. Only, you, like this/ It might well be the only chance I have of staying bloody sane."

And he's drunk, of course he is, but there's no small measure of truth in that.

When proposed on those terms with Granby's very sanity, or at least his future sobriety, resting on his choice, Laurence really had very few options left to him. He glanced at the hand there on his leg, trying to reconcile what he felt physically with what he felt about the man in front of him. Feeling rather hopelessly out of his depth, he closed his eyes, drawing in a breath before covering the hand with his own.

He tries not to think about it too much, tries not to rationalise anything that's happening too much. He leans up, pressing another kiss against the strong line of Laurence's jaw, turning his hand to thread their fingers.

It had been far too long a time since he had been kissed, since anyone had touched him in such a manner, and, for all his considerable restraint, Laurence still found himself reacting to it. If this was how such liaisons started onboard ships he could see why men might continue them despite the risks. After so long a time spent starved on physical affection, a small bit was almost dizzying no matter the source. Laurence's eyes remained closed as his fingers tightened on Granby's.

His thumb grazes against the length of Laurence's. He's intensely aware of everything, the fact that maybe Laurence leans into the kiss a little or that he certainly doesn't pull away.

He shifts, pressing his mouth against Laurence's again, hand tight in his.

Though he was still hesitant and almost painfully careful, Laurence responded much more readily than the last time. Yet, for all Granby's intent, it was still almost polite, as though he could not help his nature coming through even in something as base as a kiss.

The stone floor is going to play devil with his knees but it won't be the first time. For the first time in weeks, with his mouth on Laurence's, he stops thinking. He sucks lightly on Laurence's bottom lip, seeking to push the kiss gently deeper with his tongue.

His hand trembles with the need to touch.

Ever conscientious, Laurence obligingly deepened the kiss. However, Granby's trembling hand was mistaken for dislike of his touch, not a want to touch all the more, and he let go of it rather quickly.

"God, Will."

He breaks the kiss, breathless, a huff of laughter against Laurence's skin. He looks down at Laurence's hand, tugged away from his so surely. Leaning in, he presses another kiss to Laurence's mouth - it's a feeling akin to finally having water after having thirsted.

"Do you want me to stop?" he asks, still looking down at Laurence's hand.

"Would you want me to?" Laurence followed his gaze down to his hand which clenched uncertainly for a moment before reaching for the other man's hand once more. This was, after all, about finding a way to finally help Granby.

"No," he says, immediately, no hesitation at all, his hand wrapping around Laurence's, squeezing, holding on tight. "Never." He bites his lip. His head swims a little, effects of the liquor mingled with desire.

"But I also wouldn't have you do anything that made you...unhappy." He looks up. "Not for the world, Will."

Laurence nodded then, his mind made up. He could do this thing for the sake of his friend. What was one more uncommon thing when the both of them seemed to doomed to a repeating purgatory? "I told you that I would help however I could."

In that moment, Granby was so grateful that he could barely breathe. He leans in, his forehead resting against Laurence's shoulder for a moment. He didn't let go of his hand.

"You might even enjoy it," he says, quietly. "But could we...the bed, if you please. My arm already hurts enough that I'd rather not add my knees to the tally."

Laurence nodded once more, rising from his seat and reaching down to assist Granby in rising as well, ever mindful of his bad arm. "Of course."

"Jesus, Will," he says, on his feet, swaying in to kiss Laurence again, less careful this time, just hungry with need and loneliness.

The sheer amount of feeling behind the kiss caught Laurence off guard, but he responded regardless. The swaying motion alarmed him though, whether caused by the drink or his bad arm, and placed a firm hand on the other man's shoulder in an attempt to steady him.