“Lancelot,” she squealed, squirming beneath him.
“What’s that, my queen? I’m sorry, was thatlaughter?” His voice was mock-innocent, his fingers unrelenting. “Is this the sound ofyoulosing a battle tome?”
“Ihateyou!” she gasped between giggles, tears beginning to gather in the corners of her eyes.
“Youadoreme,” he corrected, tickling mercilessly. “You’re obsessed with me. You’re delirious with how much you love me, infact-”
She caught his wrists at last, breathless and wild-eyed, her cheeks flushed from laughing too hard.
There was a guilt, momentarily, that flooded her veins. The otherness telling her she was not allowed joy; she was not allowed this moment. With all the effort she could muster, she shoved it aside. Focusing all her thoughts on this man, his hands, and the lazy curve of his smile.
She could stay here, in this moment, with him.
It was all she had.
“I surrender,” she wheezed, finally.
He went still above her, panting too, but beaming. “Say it again.”
“I surrender,” she repeated, still grinning.
“To me.”
“To you,” she said, smiling like a girl in a summer field instead of a queen with too much grief staining her soul.
He dipped down to kiss her, grinning still, but it was different this time. Slower. Hungrier. His hands settled on her waist like they had a mind of their own, thumbs brushing the curve of her sides, learning her all over again.
She gasped against his mouth, arching into him.
“Oh,” he murmured, voice thick, “youhavemissed me.”
She tugged him closer by the band of his trousers, slipping her hands up his chest to feel the heat of his skin. “Don’t sound so smug.”
“You’re the one trying to crawl inside my rib cage.”
“You’re the one who disappeared,” she shot back, kissing him again, open-mouthed and greedy.
He growled low in his throat, “I won’t make that mistake again.”
“Don’t.” She breathed, still gasping for breath. She curled her fingers into the skin of his shoulders, clutching him to her.
“You’re so needy,” Lancelot moaned gently against the skin of her neck, his fingers dancing back up to her rib cage, mapping the shape of her ribs with featherlight touches. “You’ve wasted away, your grace.” His voice was sterner now, playfulness leaching out of his words.
“How could I eat?” She whispered, a different type of tears stinging behind her eyes. “I thought you were dead.” Her voice caught as she tried to stay here with him.
He’s alive
He’s alive.
“I love you,” He whispered softly, pressing his forehead against hers.
Her heart leapt at the spoken words. Not words she made up in her mind, not an echo of memories from half a year ago.
Real.
Solid.
Tangible.
