marlowemuses | Fools in Love, for gentry

Of course he tried to grab the basket. However, it was deftly held away from him, despite his best attempts to snag it. Not that his lover didn't make a most excellent point; Gansey laughed, hooking one hand around Laurent's hips so that he might playfully tug him close, one bump not quite good enough.

Gansey paid no mind to the amused courtiers, focused on teasing his fiance. There were plenty of young lovers that tripped around the gardens in laughter, grabbing one another and sharing kisses. It was, in fact, one of the oldest traditions of the castle. Why else have beautiful gardens if you weren't going to enjoy them?

And enjoy them they would. Gansey lead Laurent through the maze-like bushes to the heart of it all, where there was a grand tree with a wooden swing hanging from the branches. It was a swing large enough to fit two. Gently, he dropped down onto one side, and pat the seat beside him so Laurent might sit as well.

"This is mainly where I take care of the flowers," he said, glancing out at the blooming roses and lilies. It had grown dark since their last excursion outside; now, they had the moon and lanterns to light the area, along with fireflies.

"It's beautiful," Laurent said, taking his seat and lifting his feet off the ground. He leaned against Gansey's side, securing his arm only loosely around the cord on his side of the swing and otherwise trusting to Gansey to keep him safe. Smiling, he gazed out across the garden, admiring the beauty of the place by moonlight. It was a far more serene experience than anything in his life before. Romantic, and what a simple pleasure it was to have a little romance in his life. "I feel entirely addled with love," he murmured, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the warmth of Gansey pressed beside him.

"Good," Gansey said, resting his palm against the small of Laurent's back. "That's the idea." While Gansey had never been much of a romantic in practice before... he wanted to try. For Laurent. Even if he was more or less a dusty scholar who spent too much time with his mind on the far past, even he could clean up quite nicely. It was so much better than playing along and pretending, as he'd always done before. This time, it felt genuine.

Reaching into the basket, Gansey helped himself to a hot roll of bread, biting into the warm little loaf quietly. While he ate, he was content to enjoy the quiet of the garden and the gentle breath of his fiancee beside him.

Finishing up the loaf, he licked some crumbs off of his thumb before he asked, "Would you like your surprise now?"

Laurent leaned over for a couple of bites of the bread, chewing contentedly. After Gansey licked his thumb clean, Laurent idly offered his own hand to be licked, smiling playfully.

"Yes, please," he murmured, kissing Gansey's neck just along the hairline, all secretive smiles as his breath teased Gansey's skin.

Oh, giving Gansey the chance to suck Laurent's fingers was dangerous. But the boy managed to behave, leaning on to catch those lovely, slender fingers between his lips and suck on them gently, lolling his tongue playfully against the pads.

The kiss to his neck, right there—it was one of his more sensitive spots and he almost shivered right on the spot. It was highly distracting. Enough so that he had to remind himself that Laurent had answered him; there was a gift to give, and no time for him to sit around gaping.

"I—" he breathed, blinking slowly, reaching for the pocket against his chest. "Yes. Here." Out of it he tugged a small blue silk bag, with a silver ribbon tied around its top, keeping it closed. With care, he pressed the package into Laurent's hands so he might open it.

Inside was a locket. Golden in color and fairly simple at first glance. The chain was smooth as silk and quite fine, delicate yet strong. The heart was about the size of a thumbnail and, along its outside, were finely detailed roses and leaves. A one of a kind locket, painstakingly designed.

"So even when we're parted, you'll know that you always have my heart," Gansey explained, green eyes glittering in moonlight. Cheesy? Absolutely.

Laurent smiled with delight at the locket, letting it dangle against his palm as he admired it. "May we never be parted," he murmured, turning his head to kiss Gansey's throat again. His own heart was pounding, and he pressed closer, feeling his chest ache with vulnerability and affection.

"It's lovely, Gansey." Unable to look away from studying the details of the little heart, he felt along the edge to see if there was a clasp. Veretian lockets, he knew, would be designed with a secret compartment.

Gansey liked it very much when Laurent kissed his neck like that. With a soft hum of adoration, Gansey watched as his fiance studied the details of the heart. What would a locket be without a secret compartment? There was a small clasp so that it could be opened, leaving enough room for something very small inside. Anything about the size of a thumbnail.

"I'm glad you like it," he said, folding his hands on his lap as he watched his lover. In the moonlight, the other man looked sublime. "I considered giving you something more traditional but... when we're married, you'll receive the signet ring, along with the family band. It's all very political—this can just be for us."

Closing the gap between them, Gansey pressed an affectionate, light kiss against Laurent's temple.

Laurent smiled, glowing with affection and trust. He tugged at Gansey's hands, displeased that they were resting in Gansey's lap rather than hugging and touching him. "Put it on me, please?"

Turning, Laurent lifted his chin to offer his neck, leaning back against Gansey. He held up the ends of the locket, trusting Gansey to put it on him. "I love it, Gansey. Thank you."

Laughing, Gansey took the delicate chain between his fingers and reached out so that he might clasp it around Laurent's lovely neck. Draping it around his lover's collarbone and then gently lifting it up, he hooked the latch in the back and then smoothed the necklace down, admiring how well the color played off of the fair color of Laurent's hair.

"It looks very nice," he murmured, dipping his head so that he could press a kiss against the nape of Laurent's neck. It had struck him that this needed to belong to his fiance; he'd seen it in a shop in town a few months back and thought it charming, and when he had thought of a gift, it was the first thing that spring to mind. Like something had made him see it on purpose, already knowing who it was supposed to be for.

Wrapping his arms around Laurent's arms loosely, Gansey smiled. "You're welcome." It was his pleasure, truly, to lavish his fiance with gifts. That was new for him as well—wanting to give someone something out of genuine affection, and not merely obligation. Even his own family teetered between the two sometimes.

"I don't think I've ever been happier." He said that after a moment's hesitation, slow with words. "I'm almost afraid for tomorrow to come."

Languid and comfortable, Laurent toyed with the little locket, considering the hollow within and debating what he wanted to put there. The warmth of Gansey's arms and affection lulled him, and he let his eyes go low-lidded, disinclined to move.

"Tomorrow?" Laurent asked, lifting his head with concern. "Why? What is happening tomorrow?"

"Maybe nothing, maybe everything."

Gansey was also quite disinclined to move. The weight and warmth of Laurent in his arms was nothing short of amazing. "But I don't want this moment to end," he sighed, a tad dramatic, rubbing the curve of his cheek against Laurent's shoulder.

"I would very much like to stay like this with you forever." Time, sadly, would keep going. Going and going—and if Laurent was with him, he was okay with it. But a man was allowed some selfish dreams.

"What do you mean, maybe nothing, maybe everything?" Laurent squirmed against him, displeased at the prospect of there being something of significance that he didn't know about. He sat up partway, twisting so that he could study Gansey's face. "Gansey, I don't like surprises that aren't gifts. What's happening tomorrow?"

"There are no surprises," he promised. "I'm merely thinking about the inevitable flow of time, how incredibly linear it is, and how one will never know what the next day will bring. Pointless musings." He shrugged, "I'm sorry if I worried you. A bit of a bad habit, those."

And a hard one to shake when one was prone to idle anxiety. Not an altogether crushing sensation, but one that lapped like waves on the shore, gently eating away at the bank.

Glancing away from his fiance, he studied the moon, big and bright against the dark sky. "Times like these... I wish I could freeze them, or hold them in my hands. But there's no mastering something so much greater than ourselves. It makes me feel small—humbles me, if you will." Looking back to Laurent, Gansey offered a sheepish smile.

"Sorry. Rambling."

Laurent sighed, his own wave of panic subsiding once he was reassured that there were no surprises. Frustrated, he sank back against Gansey's shoulder, resting his head there. Gansey's baseless worrying irritated him--Laurent always figured he had plenty of real problems to worry about, why waste energy on possibilities?--but it was a small enough pet peeve to endure.

"What if time isn't linear?" Laurent said, in hopes of derailing Gansey's train of thought back into more positive territory. "I've encountered cultures where the concept of time doesn't exist at all. You can't hold it, or touch it, or see it. It doesn't matter. It just distracts you."

Turning his head, Laurent kissed the side of Gansey's throat, letting his lips linger a moment too long, warm with promise. "From this," he murmured, breath warm against the skin.

"Tomorrow," Laurent said, rising to his feet and shooting Gansey a tempting smile. "I was planning to ask you to tie my wrists and suck my cock. But if you stay in this moment forever, you'll never get there."

He took a step backward, all playful temptation. "Your choice."

It was an interesting prospect. Time not mattering, that it was merely a distraction, and he considered it. Very Gansey-like; always entertaining the possible and impossible, the likely and the unlikely. He wasn't sure how he felt about the notion that if it could not be touched it didn't matter—he would argue that things such as love and memories were also similar but they mattered quite deeply.

Would, of course. Would. Time as a distraction was a question. Laurent as a distraction was a certainty. Especially talking like that.

Which was why Gansey's mouth opened and closed quite uselessly for a good minute before he managed to tug on the collar of his tunic and clear his throat.

"A rather simple one," he admitted, gaze flicking from the ground up to Laurent, mesmerized as always. That was one way to win a debate that hadn't even really started. One day, he decided, he would somehow manage to be the one making Laurent wonder if the room had gotten several degrees hotter.

For now, he was a pile of putty in his lover's hands. A thing he honestly did not mind.

Laurent stepped back and Gansey stood, attempting to catch his love around the waist.

"I will always choose you."

Gansey already did manage to make the room heat up around Laurent, as everything else in the world dropped away.

The words caught him, forestalling his half-planned chase, and he remained still as Gansey's arms encircled his waist. Entranced by the loyalty and affection in Gansey's eyes, Laurent forgot all his irritation, all his teasing words and intellectual debates. Lips half parted, he stared at Gansey, eyes flicking only briefly to his mouth before getting lost again in Gansey's eyes.

He wanted, more than anything in the world, just to be held, to be loved, to be safe. His control over the situation slipped, for once, and he let it go. For once, he didn't need a plan. He didn't need to have their next activity planned, didn't need to make any decisions to control every last moment of their time. Surrendering it all, he let himself simply be entranced, trusting Gansey to decide whether to lead him back to the swing or inside to bed.

Gansey pressed his hands on the small of Laurent's back and slid them up slowly, basking in the sensual, in the feeling of soft fabric against his palms and the warmth underneath it. The delicate shape of his lover's spine, the curve of his back.

Their needs met beautifully. Gansey so longed for someone to feel close to, someone to love, someone he could hold in his arms like this and never truly want to part from. Holding Laurent flush against him with one arm, the other skimmed up gently so that he might caress the gentle slope of the other man's cheek, tenderly brush his thumb across Laurent's perfect lips.

In this moment, his thoughts weren't straying toward the swing or the bedroom. Only on one thing: leaning down, slowly, and pressing his mouth against his lover's in this impossibly beautiful garden. Hand cupped, he brushed strands of blond hair away from his lover's face as he kissed him. Not a short kiss. Not a teasing kiss. Not even a lustful kiss.

It was the kind of kiss that ladies often sighed about after reading one in books. That poets wrote about, that minstrels crooned about. Thick with love, devotion, and promise. And when Gansey pulled back, he gazed at Laurent as though he were the most perfect, desirable, lovable thing in the world.

"... Shall we go back to the tower?" he asked, voice soft velvet.

Utterly trusting and pliant, Laurent kept his eyes on Gansey. He pressed against his partner as Gansey's hands caressed his back and his cheek. The gentle, reverent touch made it easy to trust, and Laurent let his hands settle on Gansey's shoulders to keep him close. He felt nervous in surrendering the reins, having not simply trusted to anyone else's guidance in years.

Curling a hand around Gansey's neck as they kissed, Laurent let Gansey lead it. He followed each cue, returning Gansey's sweetness and love with everything he had to give. It was terrifying, and he felt as though he was falling, but he trusted absolutely that Gansey would catch him.

Speechless, Laurent nodded as the kiss broke. His cheeks were flushed, all thoughts and sense driven from his head but his devotion to Gansey. The prospect of being alone with him was irresistible, but even aside from that, in this moment Laurent wanted nothing more than to follow Gansey's lead to the ends of the world.

The nod made Gansey smile, eyes catching light and sparkling against the backdrop of shadow and flowers. Closing the distance between them again, Gansey pressed an adoring kiss to Laurent's forehead as he dropped his hand so that they might entwine their fingers together. Shy and reserved before, now he seemed to be completely steady and comfortable, more than willing to catch Laurent should he ever fall.

"Then let's go," he smiled, attention dropping down to the locket glinting against Laurent's shirt before back up to his fiance's comely face. Gansey had no problem leading the way. It wasn't far. A short walk back through the gardens, around the castle so that they didn't have to walk through the hallways and chance meeting someone that would want to hold them for some conversation.

The nice thing about the tower was that it was close to one of the castle entrances. It wasn't long before Gansey was opening the door and climbing the stairs, glancing back at Laurent, like he was leading Eurydice to sunlight. But Laurent did not vanish into the dark. He was real, he was warm, and Gansey wanted him in his arms more than ever.

Quietly, he closed the door behind them once they reached his room. Everything was as they left it. With a gentle hand, Gansey reached out to brush his fingers along the line of Laurent's jaw.

"I love you, Laurent."

Laurent pressed against his side as they moved through the gardens. His mind felt calm and quiet. All his worries and plans had gone quiet, and he yielded entirely, trusting that Gansey could handle and deflect any interaction that they might encounter.

Safe within the sanctuary of Gansey's room, Laurent hugged close to him, nuzzling at the side of Gansey's neck. His beloved was warm, solid, safe, and Laurent felt utterly addicted to him, terrified of the prospect that he might ever have to draw away.

He didn't respond, not feeling like he needed to. Gansey knew, even when Laurent couldn't put it into words, and there were dozens of repetitions of the phrase tucked into hiding spots around Gansey's room.

Shy and gentle as a wild fawn, Laurent rested his head against Gansey's, listening to his lover's breath, feeling his lover's heart thudding against his own. He felt drunk with the sensation of trust, and the terrifying pleasure of yielding.

No, love did not need to be spoken. Gansey could feel it; hidden in the heat of Laurent's body against his own, caressing him along with the smooth slope of Laurent's cheek, in the way he gently yielded to touch.

Rather than ask Laurent where he might want to take things, Gansey guided his lover along. He felt more certain than he ever had before as he drew Laurent to the bed, still messily unmade from their earlier trysts. The scent of sweat and sex still lingered. Earlier he had felt rushed, clumsy, eager to admire Laurent physically. Now, he felt slow. Deliberate. Every sense so wholly focused on his fiancee, ribbed with affection and devotion.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, the prince drew Laurent down with him, shadows playing across the floor until the pale light of the moon broke their marks. Even without the light of a candle Gansey's mouth found his fiance's easily. Head tilted, he pressed his lips against Laurent's again, parting them just enough to keep the kiss from being chaste. Flicking his tongue up against Laurent's upper lip playfully, he made to deepen their kiss while he gently pushed his lover onto his back with one hand on the other side of him, digging into the mattress, head bowed as their tongues and lips met.

His thoughts did not stray. So rarely were those anxieties, the chanting of gears running in the background of his thoughts, quiet. It was like Laurent was a chapel, somewhere Gansey could come home to and admire the silence. All he could think about was how Laurent's breath sounded and the beating of his lover's heart, the texture of his hair, and his scent.

Reverent with love and trust, Laurent returned each kiss, following Gansey's lead and opening to him gladly. He sought nothing, and didn't push or tease. This moment was the closest thing to sacred that he'd ever felt, and he gave over more and more control to Gansey, letting him break each kiss and initiate the next, and Laurent was always ready, meeting him with lips and arms and a fathomless depth of love.

His hands slid up under Gansey's shirt, yearning for as much contact as he could get. Palms flat against Gansey's back, Laurent could feel the way his ribs expanded with each breath, the way his muscles shifted beneath the skin, and the radiating thud of his beating heart.

Parting his legs so that Gansey could fit between them, Laurent tangled himself around his beloved, chest to chest as close as they could get as they kissed. He wanted nothing but this for the rest of his life. Though he could feel his pulse thrumming in his cock, restrained by the tight breeches, Laurent was in no hurry. He was more than happy to linger in this kiss for hours.

When Laurent parted his legs Gansey slid between them, taking the opportunity to be closer and delighting in it. The pressure of hands along his back almost made him tremble; so warm, so soothing. He wanted to melt into those hands. No other hands would ever make him feel so thoroughly alive, so like a man drunk on love.

Ignoring the aches of his body was easy when kissing was so wondrous. Had kissing always felt so perfect? No—this was the first time he felt that he could simply kiss and kiss until his lips were raw and throat sore. Over and over again he kissed his lover, lingering in every little kiss and every deeper one. Gansey could feel his heart thudding heavily in his chest, his pulse pitching upward with every roll of tongue, from the taste of Laurent thick on his tongue.

Eventually his hands began to wander. Sliding them up underneath Laurent's shirt, Gansey skirted the delicate skin just above the waistband of the other man's trousers before flattening his palms, sliding them up along the dip of his lover's waist. Thumbs brushing down against ribs, nails tracing along whatever contours they could find. Gansey wanted to truly relish—adore—every inch of skin he could reach. So in spite of his hardening cock he continued to caress, eventually breaking the kiss to push Laurent's shirt up and help him pull it over his head, dropping it to the side once it was gone.

Gazing heavily at the other man, Gansey smiled like he was seeing the loveliest thing in the world (which he was), the small dimple crinkling just below his eye once more.

Laurent arched his back gladly, then ducked his head so that the two of them could get his shirt off of him. His belly fluttered with each soft gasp, chest pulsing with heart and breath. Nipples hard and pink against the pale expanse of his torso, he watched Gansey with flushed cheeks and a shy, devoted smile.

"Gansey," he said, the closest thing to a prayer that had ever crossed his lips. He reached for his lover again, pushing the shirt up under Gansey's arms and tugging it off. His eyes skimmed over Gansey's bare chest, dazed with love and trust and yearning.

Cool air kissed at warmed skin once his shirt was gone, giving him an inkling as to just how charged up Laurent had made him. Gods above, that was the cutest smile Gansey had ever seen. It made that warmth spread through his rib cage, seeping through his limbs to the tips of his fingers. Butterflies—there were butterflies, dizzy butterflies, in the pit of his belly. What a precious, wonderful man. There was no part of him that Gansey did not cherish.

Bowing his head once more, Gansey nuzzled his face into the crook of Laurent's neck, kissing along shoulder before he settled his mouth at the base of the other man's neck, where he could feel his pulse strongest. Biting gently, Gansey tugged and sucked on the spot as his hands wandered again, more eager to explore without the shirt in the way. The freedom was exhilarating.

They were drawn up Laurent's chest to those pert nipples; rolling the pads of his thumbs over each, he teased by rubbing before lightly pinching them between thumb and index finger. They fascinated him, as every inch of Laurent did.

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