NC-17 - Laurie/Andrew/Ralph; Alexander/Bagoas

Thanks very much to Baranduin for betaing this and for coddling my insanity. It's a better story thanks to her help -- though it still might be the weirdest thing ever.

AU, of course, but in addition to the big things I've also sent Aunt Olive away so Laurie can sleep in his old room the night before his mother's wedding.


Bagoas said, "To what god can I sacrifice, so that when he is born again, I may be born with him?"

"That is your sacrifice; to that you are bound. You will return, to receive his service," Kalanos replied.

"He is my lord and will always be."


by Laura Mason


"You are a seer, I told you so," the voice whispered.

Laurie woke. He lay very still for a moment, then squirmed in the narrow bed, enjoying the softness of oft-washed sheets. When he scissored his legs to loosen the blankets, the discomfort in his knee brought him solidly back to the present. He was in his mother's house -- his house now. Gyp was dead, and tomorrow he would walk Mother down the aisle and give her away. The bitterness of all these things was somehow mellowed, though Laurie didn't remember what he'd been dreaming to make him so happy.

He felt that it must be a dream he'd had before, for rather than discomfiting him, it was as if he'd been visited by an old friend. He wondered if perhaps it was a childhood memory, or some pleasant dream of home he'd had while under ether during his operations. Whatever, it was gone now. His uplifted mood remained.

Laurie could see the stars outside the window through the wind-tossed leaves and was fiercely glad he'd left the blackout curtain open. The quality of darkness, like the silence here, was very different from that of the hospital. He wasn't alone here, yet Laurie felt more relaxed than he ever was at the hospital. There he guarded his expression, fearful that his thoughts would somehow be revealed to unfriendly eyes. He'd even felt uneasy here during the day. But now, in the faint silvery light, he could be himself.

He remembered his call to Lanyon, the incredible ease of speaking to a real friend after a day of uncomfortable tiptoeing. He smiled into the darkness, then let himself imagine Andrew waiting at the station for his return, grey eyes shining with happiness. Despite himself his body stirred, and Laurie knew the yearning was for both men, the shining young crusader and the knight in dented armor. At this moment, it felt entirely correct to love two men without shame or guilt. He would never act on his desires, so what harm was there in the joy they brought to his life?

He remembered a daydream of openly writing to his mother about himself and his love for Andrew. What he'd felt that day was still true. There was a reason Laurie had been born in this time, and everything that ever happened to him, including his wound, had happened to bring him to this place where he could meet Andrew, love him with a pure fire, and discover he could still be overflowing with love and respect for Lanyon, too.

With his heart so full, it was easy to close his eyes, roll over and ignore physical demands. Laurie heard a night bird call, and thought he had fallen asleep. Then he felt the bed dip and someone was beside him, speaking to him. Calloused hands touched bare flesh and he ignited with pleasure, instantly aroused.

"It isn't seemly," he protested, wondering when his clothing had been removed, and why the cotton sheets felt so lush against his skin. It wasn't cotton, but fur that his hands found when he clutched them against the tide of arousal building as the man's caresses continued.

"Allow me this, my love. You give such pleasure to me when you let me bring you joy--" He knew the voice of his love and obeyed, writhing with pleasure as a warm, sweet mouth descended on his to swallow any further protest. Then the mouth moved down, covering his chin, gliding down his neck, sucking at his collarbone and dropping kisses on his breastbone. He looked down, watching the familiar golden head as it descended to the root of his pleasure.

He moaned and put a hand through his love's hair, not pulling, just savoring the texture as the curls wound round his fingers. He felt the blunt ends and smiled, remembering how it felt to trim the lion's mane. Comb and scissors busily worked while his fingers gently stroked the sun-gilt locks. He'd been so proud to be of service to his lord..

Now his beloved was serving him, giving love so generously that he could lose himself in the exquisite pleasure of his body without regret. Every touch, every kiss gifted him with new memories of joy and passion to replace those of slavery and disgust. He was alive and glowing with love infused by this man whose hands and mouth owned every inch of him and saw nothing but beauty, despite his deformity.

Then his lover sat back, no longer touching him. "Please!" he begged, far beyond shame as his body strained upwards. His love smiled, lowering himself until their arousals met and then they were clutching each other, their bodies rocking together, mouths clashing roughly, climbing so high he thought the end might kill them -- but he wouldn't let fear stop him.

He would never be cowardly before his beloved. Despite the others his lord showered with love and honor, despite his own jealousy, he kept giving all he had -- his cleverness and even his cunning part of the care for his love's ease and pleasure, in their bed or out of it. He worshiped his beautiful beloved, his king and lord. He would die if Alexander stopped loving him...


Laurie's own voice woke him to confusion, then embarrassment. By the time he cleaned up, sleep had been banished. He huddled in the window seat, watching the sun rise. The fearlessness of his predawn thoughts, the pride and acceptance, were gone. It was as if that Laurie had existed long ago, in some very different place.



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