Title: Epiphany
Author: dealiberty
Pairing: Arthur/Lancelot
Rating: R
Dedication: for sashab (Ashley) with love, because she's not having the easiest time. Chin up, sweetie, and remember to take care of yourself.
Feedback: feeds the muses. All comments, including constructive criticism is welcomed.

The fire's lit and Lancelot's sitting on fur in front of it, arms around his knees, head resting there as he stares into the flames, wrapped only in Arthur's sheet. His shoulders are hunched slightly, and he's worrying his bottom lip, hands clenching and unclenching periodically.

Arthur sighs and closes the door behind him, removing his boots and placing Excalibur on the table before moving slowly to sit down behind Lancelot, legs on either side of the other man, arms wrapped around him, cheek on his curly head and closing his eyes.

Lancelot's back stiffens but, as Arthur softly kisses his hair, he relaxes a little, leaning back into Arthur's embrace.

"I'm sorry," Lancelot whispers, voice thick - Arthur can hear the traces of tears there. "I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

"Me too," Arthur replies just as softly, tugging Lancelot even closer. "I didn't mean to hurt you either."

"But then I…and you'd…you'd left and I didn't know," he hesitates, taking a deep breath to get his thoughts back in order, to force down the emotions starting to rise, threatening to stop the words. "I didn't know if I was still welcomed," he finishes, quieter than he'd started.

"Always." Arthur leans over, one hand reaching to tilt Lancelot's head up so that he can reach his lips, and kisses Lancelot softly, trying to convey his feelings without words.

Always wanted. Always loved. Even if I don't say it. Even if I don't act like it. Always.

Lancelot's head lolls back onto Arthur's shoulder as he trails kisses from Lancelot's lips to his ear, murmuring reassurances and affections softly.

The sheet slips from his shoulder to pool in his lap, allowing the firelight to lick and flicker over Lancelot's skin and scars, reminding Arthur how precious this was, how fragile - how mortal Lancelot was.

And how easily he could lose all this.

His kiss turns more desperate more frantic as the thought hits him, and Arthur's hand slips beneath the sheet, caressing Lancelot's inner thigh. He rests his cheek against Lancelot's, breathing hard as he kisses the other man's shoulder, then neck, then behind his ear - soft kisses, barely there, as he breathes him in, revelling in his warmth.

He licks a line up Lancelot's spine and Lancelot's hand slips into his hair, tangling itself securely there as he lets out a soft whimper and turns boneless, letting Arthur take his weight - which he does easily.

When Arthur's hand grasps Lancelot's cock, the hand in his hair spasms - and then Lancelot's surrendering himself completely as he always does, pliant and willing - and so heartbreakingly beautiful as the firelight dances and plays softly over his sharp features.

Eyes, dark with desire, reflecting the fire as if they were made of glass - so filled with love, so filled with adoration and completion. Lips parted as he draws in air, breathing out in moans and whimpers and murmurs and a name. His name. Legs separated, knees bent - sheet slipping off to pool only around his groin.

He nudges Lancelot onto his own knees (the sheet sliding off his body completely) still supporting the other man's weight as he undoes his own trousers and kneels behind the other man.

The warmth of the fire feels almost cool compared with the heat that's Lancelot.

Lancelot responds to his every touch (docile and compliant and yielding) letting him move and shift and mould as he wants, as he needs, with helpless abandon, letting words and encouragement and pleas spill from his lips.

He concentrates on the man in front of him, imprinting each thrust, each gasp, each whimper and whine, the way Lancelot's back arched, the way his hand would grip and loosen on his hair as the other clawed at his hip - imprinting it all into his heart and into his memories so that he'd never be able to forget.

He'd never be able to forget how much Lancelot means to him (everything), how much Lancelot gives to him (everything) and how much Lancelot trusts him (more than anything).

And when he's coaxed Lancelot over the edge, as he himself climaxes, he feels tears come to his eyes as he's overwhelmed by the emotions building up, overcome by all that Lancelot is and gives.

The other man lets out a soft whimper of loss as Arthur slips out of him and a small sigh of contentment when Arthur curls around him. Lancelot turns to face him, burrowing more securely into Arthur's hold, wrapping his arms around him, hand tracing idle patterns on his back whilst the other plays with the soft wisps of curls on his neck.

"Love you," Lancelot whispers to him, kissing his neck and tucking himself under Arthur's chin.

And Arthur feels as if he's finally getting a glimpse of - touching - the divine.

It's as close to heaven as he'll ever get in this lifetime.