sunburned | (no subject)

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laurence,
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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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"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.

The touch is incredibly centring and Granby lets himself sink into it for a moment. His mouth's still against Laurence's but it's almost like they're sharing breath.

"Could we...would you mind terribly if we lay down?"

"Not at all," he replied, yet he wondered just how true that statement was, for, though he may have been familiar with Granby's particular indulgence in the most general of ways, the specifics of it eluded him. He had little to go on, but he knew the boyish talk and the worn copy of Fanny Hill that had circulated through the midshipman's berth of his youth could not have told the whole tale.

Slowly, carefully, very mindful of how much he'd drunk, Granby gets up onto the bed and draws Laurence with him. This part, at least, is familiar. So man times, he's been in this position that he can almost let his body take over.

He leans in, hesitating for a moment before he take another kiss, fingers grazing against bare skin in the open collar of Laurence's shirt.

The breath caught in Laurence's throat at the touch. Almost immediately following, a flush began to spread across his face, and Laurence ducked his head, embarrassed that something so fleeting could have affected him so.

It's not much, but it's enough - Granby smiles. He feels less like he's hustling Laurence in the direction of something when he's at least half unwilling. He turns his head, grazing his lips against flushed skin, fingers tracing the line of Laurence's collarbone.

"Relax," he murmurs. "Try to, at least."

Laurence shuddered, not at all unpleasantly, as he was touched so once more. He would try to relax as Granby asked, though there was no guarantee of it happening in the near future. He was far too focused on the utter strangeness of the thing for that. But nonetheless he found himself nodding his head. "I will try, John."

What he had not expected, not really, was for Laurence to react in a way that was so clearly positive. Granby doesn't really know what he's expecting here, what he's aiming for, other than closeness and warmth and something approximating love. If not being in love then something very close.

His fingers curl against the side of Laurence's neck. tugging their bodies flush together from shoulder to knee as he pulls him in for another kiss. It feels like he's getting hungrier by the second.

Laurence could not help feeling considerably baffled by the whole thing. Though he had no true grounds for comparison, to him it seemed to be moving very quickly. Perhaps too quickly for, despite Granby's telling him to relax, he still remained rather unyielding, his frame tense as though he was merely waiting for something to prove so strange that it would drive him from ther other man's attentions. Nothing yet had proved so unpleasant -a state of affairs that still worried him- but he remained at the ready, even as he strove to match Granby's kiss in manner deserving its evident hunger.

Even drunk, he's deeply and profoundly aware of the resistance in Laurence's body. His hand doesn't stay still for long, sliding down Laurence's torso, the edge of his thumb nail grazing against his nipple through linen.

"This bloody arm," he says, laughing. "I've never been so aware of the need for two bloody hands."

"Ah." Laurence glanced down at the hand in question, desperate for an excuse to focus on something other than the path of its partner. As Granby said, he needed to relax, but that was a difficult state to achieve when he was preoccupied with the other man's every move and gesture. "Perhaps we might find someway to save it, if we are to be stuck here indefinitely," he offered, being as he was unsure of the finer mechanics of time travel, for all he knew it might well be possible.

"Aye, maybe."

His hand skims lower, following the line of Laurence's side down to his hip. His fingers dig into Laurence's hip, tugging him in harder. He makes a soft sound, rocking his hips forward into the press of Laurence's body.

"Seems your body's going on without you, Will."

To that Laurence had no response whatsoever. He could feel his features grow even more red and a deep sense of shame filled him. To be willing to help a friend in need, but to have his body enjoy it so thoroughly... A weakness that he had not thought he possessed had been brought to light and he did not know what to make of it.

"I want..."

He does not quite know how to finish that sentence. He doesn't know quite how much he dares ask for. His hand pushes up underneath Laurence's shirt, palm pressed against bare skin over his hip.

Laurence drew in an unsteady breath, just as uncertain as Granby was, if not more so. He shifted slightly under the other man's hand, trying to get a feel for this strange new thing he had found himself a part of. "What, John?"

His thumb strokes against Laurence's skin, the smooth heat of him. He shifts his hand, fingertips tracing along the waistband of Laurence's breeches.

"I would very much like to feel like I'm completely in control of something," he says, quietly. "If only for a moment."

The request was somewhat unexpected, though the more Laurence thought about it the more it seemed to make sense. Poor Granby had been deprived of his freewill for an intolerable amount of time, all through seemingly no fault of his own. It stood to reason that a man in those circumstances would seek to grasp what control he had, though Laurence had no notion of how he planned to go about it. Nevertheless, he nodded as if he understood in full.

Edited 2012-07-31 22:24 (UTC)

Maybe it would be better not to think about it at all. Better to let everything be visceral and let desire carry him. He leans in to take another kiss and his hand slides down, palm pressing against the hard outline of Laurence's cock through his breeches.

The brazenness of the touch startled him and, almost without any conscious thought, he found himself pressing himself back against it, suddenly aware of just how long it had been since another person had touched him in so intimate a manner. It was far easier not to dwell on such a thing though, and instead to focus on the lips meeting his own, the hand on his body.