He smirked, mouth agape in a breathless, soundless acknowledgement that he was, indeed, very much appreciating being touched below the waist. Eyes shot a glance to the opening in the temporary sanctum. No one. Hands gripped at Laric's shoulder and around the nape, pulling him in. Walter ran the tip of his tongue against Laric's ear, and then tilted his face away, opening his throat, inviting. "Once we're in for the night, nothing should interrupt our plans until the dawn..." a soft gasp interrupted the whisper, a jolt of pleasure making it harder to only tease.
Somewhere down the hallway, a sound of footsteps echoed from the stairs - but not quite from the stairs, dimmed, as if from inside the walls.

"Hush, now..." Walter breathed, "Anthea's pace..."
The steps ascended just behind the wall of their alcove, and for a few long moments the baron seemed wary to even breathe, pressed against the lover with his heart racing, listening intently.
"Headed to my room," lips moved, "down a servant's walkway."
They would not be seen, with the silly drape only mostly covering the very provocative way the baron was clearly pressing himself against the honored guest. But as Anthea would emerge from the secret door near Walter's room, he could not return, or exit into the hall, for a minute or so longer, until she'd do what she had to, and retreated back.

So, his fingers tickled the back of Laric's neck and wrapped under the jaw, and the wandering mouth, slightly breathless with adrenaline, whispered into the blond's ear, "Let's stay quiet, darling." And, just as he voiced that, his hand slipped between their bodies, tracked against Laric's inner thigh, and rubbed along the lacing on the front. They would have to emerge. They would have to stop teasing. But right now... plausible deniability.

A panel squeaked softly, opening into the secret passageway, and the head maid, carrying a latched box with most things requested that she could procure, knocked at the doorway of Walter's room before entering the door ajar.
 
Laric rising to the challenge was a treat of its own. His move, however... Walter's lips stayed parted, his body tensing - and squirming against the other, a thigh pressing between the knees. His breath stilled, lips sank under the teeth. Anything to keep the noise of pleasure mixing with excitement over their tomfoolery from escaping his lips. Then, came more soft bites, moving up the neck, each one making him tense until his form twitched, involuntarily. A gasp, bitten back immediately as he kept his senses aligned to the gloom of the hallway, sensitive to every creak.
Spine arched under the touch, the baron's own head dipping and lips moving just by Laric's ear.
"And you partake."

There was no pulling away right now, and so, his hands moved to where they could track, to the nape, knuckles brushing against the wall, and between the shoulderblades, leaving himself open for Laric's wandering hands.
"We're close..."
Words trailed off as he heard the door to his own bedroom move, but not close - finding no occupant, Anthea would merely ensure that everything was clean and in order, and then depart. Walter chose that exact moment to nip back at Laric's ear, and pull his head back by the locks to press his mouth to the spot just below the jawline, lavishing affection and listening to the beat of the heart just as attentively as he did to the steps in the hallway, anothe creak of the pannel, and then, the muffled pace retreating down the servants' passageway.

A touch of distance, just to catch what glimpse of Laric's face the shadows didn't steal away.
"Should I come with you, or wait for you just where we're headed?"
 
He was mid-nod, ready to retreat when he felt the hands on his face. A rare expression gleaned across the face - a soft confusion, eyes widening in surprise, then sinking closed as Walter's fingertips tracked along Laric's sides. He answered, an exhale puffing with the falling chest, moved closer for more.

And then, he was standing in the hallway again, still ever so slightly dazed, staring at the lover absently, and with the sharp glimmer of trickery completely quenched. If anything, those dark eyes conveyed a certain... unfairness, at Laric's tenderness. It made him feel a certain sort of way that was only tangential to lust. Made him feel open. The moment passed, and though the feeling swirled in his chest, he offered a faint smile, and walked down the hallway, into his quarters, to eye the new things, the things shifted around, the crackling fire.

He waited for Laric to rejoin him, to step inside, and look at him, before his hand rested at the door. Pressure with fingertips against the thick, heavy, solid wood, index brushing just by the latch. When the door closed, so would the troubles of the outside world. At least for tonight. Charoite eyes caught the golden glimpses from the fire, tracked Laric's movements, shifts of posture.

For a few beats more, not a sound reigned but the quiet noise of the door shifting against the hinges to shut. Uncertainty. Excitement. Slight trepidation. It's been a while since he'd let go, let himself be guided.
"All yours," he exhaled, words escaping under the breath.
 
He could not convey feelings with his eyes, not when he realized that the hands holding his face made him remember. Made him soft. Made him cradle the fondness over the wound that was maybe healing, but wept still.
'Leave it,' Laric directed and Walter heeded without word.

Fingers drifted down from the latch, the dark gaze drinking Laric in. Breath stilled in the moment before collision. A thud, the weight of the other body pressing him into the solid oak, fingers guiding his face upward. Walter reached into the kiss, opening up as his hands found Laric's waist, pushed him tighter against the body arching to meet his. He could feel the damned metal clasps through the layers. Soft moan stolen by the ravaging tongue, and just like that, confused, cautious fondness was tinted into something far more familiar. Lust, that most of his lovers made peak to warmth - after an inevitable descent.

Fingers did not splay - they curled, clawing at the fabric as they made their way to Laric's back, dove down to measure how low was the hem of the doublet, and find in frustration that it would not be easy to get his hands on skin without addressing the man. The clawing curled upward against the buttocks, then, to a hoarse chuckle as their lips parted for a moment.
"Ah, putting yourself in the position to sink those teeth into me?" he grinned.

And tried to snap the grip around Laric's shoulders, reverse their positions by a forceful shove and pivot.
 
The grin only got wider at being slammed against the door, the challenge met, excuse offered not taken. Faded, somewhat, as smiling became harder with fingers wrapping around his throat... pressing in to hold him in place. Walter gasped under the fingers, words flowing languidly together in his head to slip off the tongue - and melting away between their lips.
"I- mh..."
His own hand wrapped around Laric's wrist, held that hand on his neck, as if to dare to keep the grip where it was, keep him in place. Eyes drifted open, lips still parted, and Walter felt a little drunk as the beating of his heart drummed away all thoughts of trouble, and most thoughts of duty, too.

He stared into Laric's face, trapped but not powerless, not trying to struggle against the grip anymore, nor to push the lover away.
"Yes," the only word that ended up rolling from the tongue like a confession.
Immediately after, his gaze wandered, the breathless silence hanging between them, a flush slowly blooming on Walter's face. It felt so shameful to struggle with admission. Exhilarating, too. Eyes flicked back to Laric's face, lingered as Walter forced himself to look as he spoke.
"I want you to do it - if it would please you, too, Laric," he offered, voice dangerously close to a whisper, as color flooded the sides of his neck and burned hot in his cheeks. Pale, so easily seen when he let himself feel.
 
There was something about the smooth progression of fingers down, thicker layer of clothing parting to where he could feel fingers brushing against him through fabric more clearly. Off with it, Walter smiled and shifted weight, pulling it by the sleeves and tossing it aside, to land on one of the smaller storage chests against the wall. Then, it was the shirt, hands claiming through the layer before finding their way underneath.
Walter laughed quietly as he caught the edge of the fabric and pulled his arms free of the sleeves, careful to keep the glove in place even as the deep scars made serpentines up to his elbow from underneath that cover.

"You can touch," he whispered. "It doesn't hurt anymore, sweet." The scars of wounds that bled only last night, now looked old enough to start fading. Laric's mouth found his shoulder, and Walter's fingers threaded through the golden hair, caressed the scalp and glided downward in a gentle stroke to the nape. A slow exhale, reluctantly letting Laric drift away, a smile in the velvet eyes.

He turned, and left the shirt to hang atop the modesty screen as he walked. Deliberately slow, he passed fingers idly at the carved pole of the bedframe, lingered by the edge. Gloved fingers passed through the hair, gathering the wavy strands as if pondering to tie it up into a ponytail. Opened the curve of the neck, with that motion, rolling a broad shoulder idly as he turned to Laric. A tease danced at the tip of his tongue, but didn't spill, as he kicked off the shoes.
"What games do you have in mind?"
 
'Even if I have to make you.'
Walter's mouth curved with humor, a jet brow quirking. Make me, then. It's not like he was not encouraging the notion. A low rumble of a hum resonated in his chest. "M-m, should I go to sleep? And all after pressing me so hard into that door," he chuckled, "giving all kinds of notions."
Lips caught the wandering fingertip, kissed it, but he didn't budge immediately, eyes wandering over the things brought in and new in the room. He could catch the faint scent of lavender oil, the box that was clearly from the ice storage.

Stepped onto the bed behind, leaned to find purchase with an arm, and stretched on top of the covers, eyeing Laric stood above him as a hand dove under his own head. Leg folded at the knee, the study lingered. Those preparations, the forceful display at the door... For just a brief moment, passion flared. Now, attuned, want for contact frustrated, he was wondering if the pause was intentional, or belayed hesitation.
Fingers traced against his own abdomen as Walter's hand rested, idle, just above the waistline.
"And now?" he asked softly.
 
"M, well these days I am also sometimes play-fighting," Walter mused back pleasantly, offering a wink so quick it would be easiest to miss it. Laric didn't know how much was said. Perhaps, one day he would.

His leg hooked onto Laric's, pulled slightly, as if wanting to threaten to topple the man's balance, crash Laric on top himself. His weight was delightful, and wandering mouth made Walter pause on half-inhale without thinking. Waiting, anticipating small sparks of intoxication sink into his blood from the tender lips. But the touch to the neck did not come, instead, Walter found his hand spirited to above his head, and he could feel the fingers slide between his gloved ones. He squeezed, and then held lightly.
His good hand stroked along Laric's waist, drifted up the spine, fingertips circling the vertebrae.

"Picking a spot without scars to sink your teeth in, hm?" he breathed. Heavy eyelids sunk closed. Bliss. His hips moved slowly upward, pushing the tangle of his bodies in a languid shift, feeling the hot flesh under the remaining layers, the firm muscle against his. "How does it feel, having me under you, Laric? Better than watching me on my knees?"
The hand that brushed up the sun-kissed back - tangled itself in a few stray golden strands, and pulled, not to cause pain, but to make the other look at him, if for a moment, see him out of breath, studying the lover from under the lowered lashes, a relaxed smile curving the mouth.
 
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