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“God’s bones! You horn-beat, hare-humping hempseed son of a horse!”
Lancelot’s guffaws drowned out Arthur’s cursing, and for a moment, Arthur was stunned into absolute stillness.
He’d never seen the knight laugh so freely, head thrown back, white teeth bared in the dark night, eyes squeezed into silvery slivers as he howled like a hyena.
His heart boomed in his chest and exploded wide open.
It was the most agonizing relief. As if, now that it was completely raw and exposed, every wound on display, it could finally heal the right way. No longer festering in the dark. No longer encased by poisonous scabs.
Without thinking, simplyfeeling, Arthur tore off his clothes and charged into the river with a marauding roar, hell-bent on revenge.
Lancelot couldn’t stop laughing, but he had enough self-preservation to ward Arthur off with gigantic splashes, slapping the water with his arms and kicking with his feet.
Blinded by the deluge, Arthur pushed his way toward Lancelot by instinct. His body simply knew where the other man was.
But Lancelot was far more adept in water. Just when Arthur got within arm’s length, he dove under and disappeared.
Arthur tread water now, keeping his shoulders and head above the surface, his feet unable to touch bottom. His body worked double time to produce enough heat to compensate for the icy cold. Apart from the initial shock, he didn’t feel it anymore. Every sense he possessed was focused on finding Lancelot.
Something slippery glanced his calf in the inky darkness of the river.
He kicked and spun, hoping he’d accidentally connect with Lancelot so he knew where the other man was.
But there was only water. When the disturbance calmed, the night was serene above him, and the river lapped gently all around him. It was as if he was all alone.
And then, a large hand cupped his groin as a hard body pressed sleekly behind him, a long rod sliding between his ass cheeks and along the small of his back.
Arthur gasped and flailed a little, swallowing a mouthful of water. Briefly, he went under, twisting around to catch his tormentor. He opened his eyes in the water and saw absolutely nothing. Even close to the surface, guided by moonlight, he only saw darkness.
He broke through the surface again to gulp in a breath, staring at the speckling of stars in the unknowable distance.
When he was a boy, he used to wish upon them. There had been no mother or father to tell him he could, and in a moment of weakness, he’d wished for that too.
As a man, he resolved to take control of his destiny and realize his desires with his own two hands. When he’d been trapped in his own body by the sorceress he wed, even when all hope seemed lost, a part of him still wished.
He closed his eyes and sent his wish now into the universe. It was the same as the one on the hilltop. Since meeting his First Knight, his wish had always been the same.
As if the universe heard him, strong arms wrapped around his waist from beneath the water and pulled him down. He took a breath before letting himself be submerged, limbs loose, not struggling.
He knew those arms, after all. He knew the man who was pulling him ever deeper into the river. If Lancelot intended to drown him, well, Arthur might just let him.
The deeper Lancelot pulled him, the more the man wrapped his body around Arthur. Though the knight usually ran cool to Arthur’s hot, here in the water, his embrace was warm.
And indeed it was an embrace.
Lancelot wrapped all around Arthur so that their fronts were flush. One long arm banded around Arthur’s back while the other wrapped around his neck, palm cupping the back of his head.
When Arthur opened his eyes this time, he could see Lancelot clearly before him, wreathed in an ethereal glow, as if he was wearing the moonlight like a cloak.
But no, it wasn’t quite that. He was glowing from within. His pale skin shone with its own luster.
And he was the most beautiful thing Arthur had ever seen.
He opened his mouth to say so, forgetting that he was submerged. Bubbles came out of his mouth as he inadvertently swallowed water and lost the last of his air.
For a moment, his body panicked, its natural instinct to survive kicking in, making him thrash to get free of Lancelot’s embrace.
But Lancelot only tightened his arms and legs around Arthur, the hand at the back of his head pulling him inexorably closer.
