#laslow fe

It was late at night when they finally got the time to be together. A light workload and settling peace made the long work days even easier on them. No longer did Laslow have to spend hours trying to convince his husband into bed, now Xander went willingly after the first prod, almost excitedly. 

They had even less time to truly explore each other like when they were younger. Duties of a king and consort over a rebuilding nation took their full concentration. 

But some nights they were able to seek each other out and spend the waning candle light remapping out every curve and dip of each other. Tonight was one of those nights, where Laslow had gotten an itch under his skin. A need to remind his husband that he too deserved to be pampered and taken care of so he could relax. 

The fact that Xander has let himself be stripped and laid out on the bed makes Laslow shiver as he climbs up next to him. The dancer takes his moment by settling next to the blonde, humming as he traces cyphers with soft fingertips over trembling muscles. 

Xander lets out a soft breath and Laslow grins to himself, spreading a hand over abs, and grabs Xander’s left hand. He brings it to his lips and kisses each fingertip, his palm, wrist, and down his arm.

There's a huff, and Xander cups Laslow’s cheek. “I am not some fairytale virgin. I do enjoy a bit of pressure, if this is about me.” He chuckles with an amused look on his face. Fond but exasperated. 

Laslow rolls his eyes and bites into the meat of Xander’s hand with a childish pout. “Hush. You can’t tell me what to do tonight. You just lay there and let me do my thing.” Laslow coos before flicking at a nipple. 

He does take mercy on his husband though, once the blonde resettles, swinging his leg over wide hips, to sit on Xander’s stomach. He chuckled as Xander lets out a soft “Oof” but listens for once and stays still. 

Collecting Xander’s other hand, Laslow sets both of them above the king’s head, “Keep them there please.” He mumbles, blushing at the needless politeness. He glances down at his husband’s face and quickly realizes he’s being laughed at. In retaliation, the dancer gently kisses both eyes, the tip of his nose, and just barely passes over his lips. Both of them still for a moment breathing each other in, before Laslow keeps moving, to his cheek, jaw, neck, behind his ears. 

He moves lower, and bites into the junction of neck and shoulder, sucking gently until the skin turns bright red under his lips. His hands have been trailing down Xander’s sides, pressing lightly between each rib, until they connect with Laslow’s own legs, then they turn and go back up the chest, grabbing at the pectorals and massaging them. 

Laslow pulls his teeth away from skin as his tongue dips into Xander’s collarbone, lapping at the small amount of gathered sweat. Brown eyes close as he moves further south, fingertips and tongue tracing every muscle, every scar. 

He heads lower, lifting his hips to move to straddle Xander’s thighs instead. Abs, hips, pelvic dips, then thighs. Knees, shins, ankles, everywhere except the spot that Xander was groaning for, his body trembling with every soft touch. 

“Ok, ok, you were right. Please Darling…” Xander begs, nudging his legs closed slightly to jostle Laslow closer to the prize. 

“Oohhh, that is my favorite sound. Say it again Sweetheart.” Laslow purrs, kissing at Xander’s hips again, hand trailing down the powerful thighs.

“Laslow… please…” 

“Ah, ah, you know what I want. Say it again, make that sound for me.” He bites at Xander’s inner thigh, so very close.

It seems to take tremendous effort before Xander cracks, “You were right. Darling you were right. Soft and slow ruins me, and I crave it everytime. Please, please touch me.”