(Aiden/Lambert; the morning after; kissing and fondling; the Witcher Game canon)
If there was one thing Vesemir had drummed into their heads the moment they could understand spoken language, it was manners. Not etiquette. There was no need to know which fork you used to eat salad with and which was for picking your nose. But manners. Elbows off the tables, back straight when you're talking to someone, return kit you've borrowed in good nick. The list was endless.
It had been a bit hit and miss with Lambert. He weaponised his manners when they served him most, often when it made someone else's life a touch more difficult. Every other time, they were just another courtesy no one deserved. As a result, he elbowed his way through life being as blunt and unbearable as possible.
So, imagine his fucking surprise when he had woken up that morning, his body aching and his limbs tangled around the most handsome bastard on the Continent, and the first thing he had thought of was how fucking impolite it would be to not make breakfast. Because that was a normal and well-adjusted thing to do after having your backside blown out so well you'd called to the gods, despite being a faithless cretin your entire life.
It was better than standing in the shower and staring at the tiles in post-fuck bewilderment, Lambert reasoned as he flipped the bacon over in the frying pan. Imagine waking up to find your hook up standing in your shower looking like something out the fucking Shining 'cause you made him scream-cum.
Hook up. That didn't really track anymore, did it?
Hook ups didn't go on endless dates or spend time actually watching Netflix on cosy winter evenings. They didn't help you paint your shitty one bed apartment or give you their old couch so you didn't have to eat your takeout on the floor, and they certainly didn't get invited to the niece's birthday barbecue which was due to start in five hours. "Bollocks," Lambert murmured as he shimmied the bacon out and replaced it with an egg.
It had taken Lambert this long to sleep with Aiden because the truth was he had never been a hook up. Lambert didn't do that. He wasn't Eskel, who went cruising and came back with a new pretty face every other week. He had said those stupid fucking words last night to try and reduce the gravity of it all, to make it less... intimidating, and Aiden had the good grace to laugh it off before kissing Lambert so thoroughly he forgot who the king of Redania was.
"Mm, smells good."
Lambert startled, so lost in his thoughts that he had missed Aiden walking up behind him. His body was still bed-warm, his firm chest covered in soft hair pressed to Lambert's back. "Me or the bacon?" Lambert asked, a little breathless as Aiden kissed the soft skin beneath his ear.
"Both," Aiden replied, bumping his hips to the top of Lambert's arse. He was about seven inches taller, which made the sudden and vivid daydream that popped into Lambert's head of Aiden bending him over the counter a little unrealistic. He thought about it anyway. As if he could taste the flush in Lambert's skin, Aiden's hand wandered beneath the apron Lambert had thrown on, fondling Lambert's hardening cock through the soft cotton of his boxers. "Still eager after last night, baby. What a treat for me."
"I'm... There's--ahh, there's bacon."
Aiden rested his chin on Lambert's shoulder to peer down at the pan, his hand still stroking slowly. "I can see," he said, and then after a brief pause, "are you stress cooking?"
"No. I'm being a courteous fucking houseguest. I think I owe your brothers a gift basket after the noise I made last night."
Aiden chuckled. "Yeah, you were so loud."
Lambert tensed, his cheeks warming.
"Hey." Aiden flicked the gas off and tilted Lambert's chin up. "You ashamed of what we did? You didn't feel, uh... pressured, did you? I thought..."
Oh, shit. How had he managed to ruin it already? Lambert swallowed and threw the spatula down. The partially cooked yolk smeared through the base of the pan, fat sizzling, and he kissed Aiden right on his worried frown. It would have given him enough time to gather his thoughts, but they all scattered the moment Aiden moaned softly in pleasure.
They stood kissing for some time, one of Aiden's hands slipping into Lambert's ruffled hair to knead and tug gently. His other hand remained on Lambert's cock, which throbbed needily with every passing stroke. Lambert's knees wobbled, and Aiden's arm lifted to his waist to steady him. "Easy, baby. Going a little weak at the knees there." The fact clearly delighted him.
"Don't regret it, wanted it, want... want you." Lambert managed a few broken sentences through the croak in his throat as he looked at the mutilated fucking egg in the pan. "Not... sure how to process it."
"Should've figured that big brain of yours would overthink itself into a rut." Aiden nuzzled into Lambert's dark nest of hair as if he could kiss said brain through Lambert's skull. "Did you have fun last night?"
"You know I had fun last night, arsehole."
"Mm, but I wanna hear you say it," Aiden purred. "You had a lot to say at the time."
"I didn't talk..."
"Ahh--ahh, Aiden, fuck, fuck, ahh, shit, mmm, that--oh my fucking gods, what--"
Lambert elbowed Aiden in the stomach and whirled around to face him. He didn't get to lay in with his rebuttal, because Aiden scooped him up and kissed him again through a chuckle.
When he pulled away, Lambert felt thoroughly gentled and Aiden licked his neck. "Just teasing. No regrets, Bertie. I want you. Have wanted you so bad for so long. But if you need to slow down, need some more time, you're worth waiting for."
And that. That was enough.
The weird tension Lambert had been carrying since he'd woken faded. He wasn't a one and done to Aiden. Not now to be discarded for a new and less complicated conquest. Not another hook up--why had he said such a stupid fucking idiot thing? He'd done this to himself, he was such a dickhead--but someone Aiden would wait for, even without the sex...
No, no, Lambert definitely wanted the sex.
"Bacon reheats, right?" Lambert murmured into Aiden's shoulder.
"Yeah, egg's fucked though."
"Fuck the egg--wait, no, fuck me. Fuck me instead."
Aiden chuckled as he scooped Lambert up by the thighs, guiding muscular legs around his waist. "My pleasure."
