Temeraire, Temeraire/Laurence, overcoming obstacles
Here, in the desolate landscape far from the civilization even of heathens, Laurence had far, far too much time and silence in which to think.
When the silence was broken, it was by large wet splashings and slappings, as Temeraire enjoyed himself rather wantonly in the water. It set Laurence’s thoughts to wondering in such a direction that he wondered if his honor was now hopelessly compromised.
How could he have imagined that Temeraire’s sensual pleasures were completely innocent? He was, after all, an animal. And yet, was there not an innocence of a certain type in that state? Was not shame in what is natural a curse reserved for Adam and Eve’s descendents only?
His face still burned hot when he remembered his reaction when Temeraire asked him matter-of-factly if he did not prefer the pleasure of Jane’s body to that of, oh, rocks? And that revelation that, having courted and mated with a lady of his own kind, Temeraire’s body would remember and crave…
Oh heavens. Temeraire wasn’t pining for Mei as he ought, and Laurence wasn’t pining for Jane as he ought, because, Laurence had to conclude, he was now so far removed from what is right and natural in human affairs that his longings were soothed and almost, almost satisfied by the caress of scaled skin, that long, strong neck he sat astride, that bond that he had always believed was reversed only for man and wife, and yet he had felt it only with…
A greater abomination than any unnaturalness conceived of among humankind? Or just the logical bending of the heart in strange circumstances and odd society, to the dearest friend, the kindred spirit?
If only it were so pure. No, when Laurence closed his eyes and leaned back against the scraggly tree, he saw shining black scales undulating against the sky, dripping with clear river water; he felt the power of those mighty foreclaws that could snap his spine in an instant but held him as gently as a tender girl with a kitten; he heard the roaring flap of great wings and the comfortable rumble of a giant heart. Intelligent eyes piercing, slim forked tongue flickering. The tension that wracked his body was not that of a mere friend, no, nor was the inexorable creep of his hand to a part of him that craved touch in in its own right even when there was no proper partner.
So wrapped in his own pleasure, his guilty heat and his dragon dreams was he that he snapped his eyes open, too late, as water dripped upon his bare chest, his exposed hips and taut manhood in his hand, and a huge head stared down at him. Behind it, a noble and serpentine body thrashed eagerly.
“Why did you hide this from me?” asked Temeraire, a little hurt perhaps, but his slitted eyes mostly wide and lusty. “If it brings us both joy, I can’t see how there’ll be harm in it, if we’re very careful.”
Laurence could see it. Or he knew he ought to be able to see it. But he didn’t want to see it, so he closed his eyes and made it go away as he leaned his hips wantonly towards Temeraire’s tongue.
The wonder of that slithering organ of sense, the rumbling wet heat, the heady dragon-musk, and most of all, a maddening miasma of love and danger made Laurence buck and spill with embarrassing speed, like a schoolboy, and left him eager to get his revenge as Temeraire fondly chuckled.
“I’m glad you’re not a fire-breather, my dear,” Laurence muttered as he moved along the long body (so, so beautiful) to encounter that alien, reptilian organ of generation, nearly as long as he himself was tall, seeking for a way to address it that would not merely frustrate his beloved—or kill Laurence himself. But with Temeraire, even anatomy was a minor obstacle that they would certainly find a way around.