sunburned | (no subject)

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laurence

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There is always paperwork to be done. Granby has handwriting typical of an Aviator - educated by the Corps from the age of seven, there had always been more exciting things to do than practising making letters, especially once he'd started to show promise as a Mid. It's not that it's illegible, just that it's a bit of a scrawl and he does have a tendency to spread the words out more than they maybe need to be. Still, he's grateful of something to be doing, something to keep his mind occupied. He's been aware of being something of a scrub for the last week or so, but it really is impossible, unable to tell what way Laurence is going to go from one minute to the next.

Files? Are much easier to predict.

Granby glances up towards the clock. Not long until dinner, but time to finish what he's doing.

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Laurence quickly glanced around the rest of the tavern, his face an unspeakable shade of red, his voice as low as was politely permissible. "Very small steps, if at all possible." The current discussion was as much of a step as he was willing to take for the next week or more.

Granby thinks that Laurence is quite red enough and nods, raising his glass in a loose sort of toast before he drains it.

"Come on," he says, reaching for his bag. "We're off. Before you actually melt."

Laurence was actually grateful for Granby's course of action, for, while he very much doubted he would melt, he had been feeling for some time that the air inside the tavern was far too stuffy and only got more so.

"That is quite a good idea," he said, rising from his own seat with a speed that rather betrayed his own opinion of the plan.

He's under no illusions that Laurence's haste has anything to do with designs on his body. It's got much more to do with sudden and complete embarrassment. But Granby will take what he can get.

Once they're outside, he turns, heading towards the hut that they share. He glances across at Laurence.

"Are you well?"

"Entirely," Laurence said, glancing questioningly over at Granby. Though he was well aware of how flustered he likely looked, he had not thought he appeared ill or otherwise not himself.

"Just checking," says Granby, managing to keep a straight face through sheer force of will. He's aware of walking a very narrow line, not wanting to do anything that might provoke Laurence into withdrawing.

He nodded, more under control now that they were both removed from the rather stifling, in his opinion, atmosphere of The Winchester. He walked steadily now, calm, collected, and no longer an ungentlemanly shade of red.

It's not a long walk to their hut and it passes, mostly, in companionable silence. At the threshold, Granby stands aside to let Laurence step in ahead of him. It's a pleasant night, cool and clear.

Granby drops his bag by the door.

"Would it be untoward of me to ask you to come here to me, Will?" he says.

"No." Laurence came closer and stood within an easy distance of Granby. It was no great hardship to do, and, if a casual observer was to, for some unknown reason, wander by and peek in, it would not necessarily signify anything untoward. "No, it would not."

He reaches out, his fingers grazing the side of Laurence's neck. He kicks the door closed with his heel and tugs him in closer.

The tugging caught him momentarily off-balance, and the hand that Laurence put against Granby's arm to steady himself stayed there even after the moment had passed.

Granby leans in and kisses him, gentle at first, soft and lingering but with undeniably heat, thumb smoothing along the line of his jaw.

He returned the kiss steadily, showing no signs of hesitancy or thinking about backing out now. Not after the conversation they had just had (embarrassing as it may have been).

He's very aware that they're standing practically on the threshold, albeit with the door closed. He doesn't care - he can't. Gently, he eases it deeper.

For the time being, Laurence followed where Granby lead without complaint or second-guessing. He did, however, begin attempting to move the both of them away from the door somewhat.

Granby lets himself be guided, happy to go where Laurence will lead him; that much, at least, has not changed. His hand slips from the side of Laurence's neck to his shoulder and then on down to rest against his waist.

Laurence pushed the kiss a bit deeper, but only just a bit. As he had told Granby before, he needed time and to go slowly.

He'd quite happily kiss Laurence for hours, even if he's not to be allowed anything else, but he's loathe to do it standing.

He breaks the kiss, sucking lightly on Laurence's bottom lip before he pulls away.

"This could be more comfortable," he says.

Laurence blinked once or twice, looking a bit confused by what Granby had said until his brain was able to fully function once more now that it was no longer preoccupied. "Yes. I suppose so."

"I'll gladly stand in the middle of the room and kiss you all night," says Granby, leaning in and taking another kiss for emphasis. "I merely suggest that there's probably something easier."

"Of course." Laurence glanced over towards where their beds lay. "I would be quite willing to move if you would not mind, then.."

"You think I'd mind?" asks Granby, so breathlessly incredulous for a moment. He shook his head, touching Laurence again, fingers straying under the collar of his shirt.

"Never."

Laurence smiled, blushing out of habit at the boldness of the thing, but not truly seeming to mind much. "Well, then, John," he said fondly, his fingers pressing gently into the other man's arm as he began moving.

In this, he's detirmined to let Laurence lead - let him decide the length of his own steps, as it were. He let Laurence walk him backwards, stealing kisses as he went, until his knees hit the bed.

With no resistance, Laurence continued at much the same pace until they were both seated on the bed. Only then did he begin returning Granby's kisses in full.