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The King's Speech Royalist Loyalists
Fic: The First of Many Mornings/One Lesson (Bertie/Lionel, NC17) 
17th-Apr-2011 04:45 pm
tarot
Title: The First of Many Mornings/One Lesson
Authors: dementordelta and cruisedirector
Rating: NC17
Word Count: ~9000
Summary: Lionel wakes from a dream to find it isn't a dream, and Bertie wants to know how different things will be now when he visits Lionel's office.
Notes: These are two out-of-order snippets from the long series we've been writing -- which now has a name, and which is now complete at AO3 if you'd prefer to read these bits there plus the new ones -- the final two chapters are so schmoopy that I don't have strong enough warnings for them. We wrote and posted quite a bit out of order, so there may be redundancies and a slightly wobbly timeline (when we first sent the characters to Scotland, for instance, we hadn't discussed how much time had passed since the Westminster Abbey scene). Thanks to celandineb and oleander9999 for so much cheerleading throughout.


The First of Many Mornings

Lionel's first thought upon waking was that he must still be asleep. He was tangled in soft sheets, his head on a thick pillow. The pre-dawn light was diffuse, filtered through curtains. The bed was just as he remembered from his dream: tall wooden posts, mattress high off the floor.

And Bertie was still in his arms.

No, Lionel didn't want to wake up. A few more minutes of dozing and indulging this fantasy wouldn't be any worse than the other fantasies he'd been entertaining since that glorious night at Westminster Abbey. He closed his eyes, shifting his weight a bit to keep the circulation going in his arm, and felt an answering wriggle.

"I didn't crowd you, did I?"

Surely he'd never imagined Bertie like this, rumpled and tousled and grinning as if he hadn't a care in the world. More details were beginning to creep into Lionel's mind, snatches of conversation from the night before. The bed still smelled of sweat and sex.

Not a dream, then.

As unstoppable as the sun bursting over the horizon at daybreak, Lionel returned the smile. "If you did crowd me, it was only because I couldn't let go of you."

"I never want you to. I shall issue a royal decree. Then you won't have to explain it to anyone."

"And I'll have no choice as a loyal subject but happily to obey." Reality remained slow to intrude upon Lionel's mood. Eventually, he was going to have to get up, he was going to have to find his clothes, he was going to have to sit politely at a Palace breakfast making small talk, he was going to have to drive himself home while thinking all the while about what on earth he was going to say to Myrtle. Now, he chuckled and admitted, "I'm still not positive this isn't all a hallucination from the wine."

"Not even absinthe could make such an ardent dream become real. I didn't think there was any miracle that could give you to me like this." Was Bertie trembling? Anxiously Lionel studied his face, unsure even now whether desire or belated shock was foremost in Bertie's mind. His own thoughts were in the same tangled mess they'd been in since that night at Westminster Abbey -- full of passion and longing and wonder, but also uncertainty about what it all meant, whether Bertie had changed him or some part of him had always wanted this, where that left his marriage and family and all his assumptions about what constituted a normal life.

He brushed a hand over Bertie's face, hoping to be reassuring. "You aren't sore?"

"Only a bit." Bertie's flushed face was itself a marvel. Lionel felt certain that Bertie would have waved the question away had Lionel not been looking right at him, which made it much more difficult to lie. "Not nearly enough to stop me from wanting to do it again."

"I believe kissing is a very good cure for soreness. Kissing everywhere..."

Bertie shuddered softly as he lay back, but this time Lionel was certain that arousal and not fear was the cause. "I shall die of happiness if you do that."

"I forbid you to die, ever." Bertie's hips rolled restlessly back and forth against the mattress, his prick already twitching against Lionel's thigh, and Lionel laughed at the delight of it: being wanted by the King of England, touching him, giving him orders. "So many parts I need to enjoy. It may take years."

"Take as long as you like -- forever, if necessary." Fingers slid into Lionel's hair, stroking hesitantly. "May I also indulge you?"

"Of course, but later." Lionel knew that Bertie was enough younger than himself that Bertie's recuperative powers might be far quicker to take effect than his own. "Let me have you without distraction. Let me feel you come apart without worrying that I'll explode before you do."

A groan vibrated Bertie's chest as fingers knotted in Lionel's hair. "Anything," he said hoarsely. "As long as you promise you'll let me touch you soon."

"Anything you wish, any time, but right now, this is too delicious." Lionel kissed down his throat, rubbing his face against the thin, wiry hairs on Bertie's chest, licking occasionally. He was oddly shy of putting his mouth on the nipples, though Bertie groaned again when he rubbed a thumb across one.

So many years since his first time with a woman, yet it was the same feeling, having to learn all over again. At least Bertie didn't have experience with men either. Lionel was fearful of seeming too much the student and too little the teacher, which was the only role that had ever given him any power over Bertie...

Lovers, of course, had an entirely different power over one another, as Bertie's moan attested when Lionel's cheek brushed the lush hair under his arm. "Ticklish?" he asked, grinning

"No, oh, a bit, but don't stop. I want all your kisses." Still smiling, Lionel let his mouth drift lower, feeling Bertie's fingers clench and release and clench again rhythmically in his hair. He knew full well where Bertie wanted his tongue. "That's ohhhh yes, more..."

It was less strange kissing a man's belly than realizing how familiar Bertie was to him. Of course, Lionel had touched Bertie nearly everywhere in the course of shaking his shoulders and pressing on his chest and rolling him on the carpet. He knew what Bertie smelled like nervous and sweaty and just-washed, though he'd never thought before about how familiar and well-loved those scents were to him.

The prick was much less so, particularly after what they'd done the evening before. Lionel had washed when he'd risen in the night to use the loo -- he'd been absurdly terrified of alerting the entire palace to his presence with an improper flushing of the toilet -- but Bertie still tasted a bit like semen. Not that Lionel minded. He had the absurd, amusing thought that he should feel privileged to experience the seed of so many generations of European royalty.

"What's funny?" demanded Bertie between groans.

"Nothing. Everything. This makes me happy." Lionel slid his fingers all around the prick and bollocks as he talked. "I want all of you..." He moved his lips down the hard shaft.

"Please -- won't be able to hold back if you put your mouth on me."

"Don't hold anything back. Let me feel you mad with pleasure."

The fingers knotted in Lionel's hair again. "Oh God, are you sure?"

"Very sure, love. I had no idea I'd ever want to do this, but I keep imagining it with you."

Either Bertie decided to take Lionel at his word or else Bertie's prick had overwhelmed Bertie's rational decisions. His hips moved, pumping him upward into Lionel's mouth, while his fingers remained firmly on Lionel's head as if afraid Lionel would pull back without that encouragement. "I love this," Bertie choked out. "Not since before I was married -- and only with girls who do this for -- oh Lionel not going to last!"

That much, Lionel could guess; the taste was stronger, the pressure of Bertie's prick against his tongue was harder, and the fingers in his hair were pressing him down quite insistently. He waited for Bertie's grunt, held his breath, forced himself to swallow as hot liquid flooded his mouth. That was definitely going to take some practice, but Bertie was groaning, hand stroking through Lionel's hair. "Yes, just that," Bertie hissed. "You...you did that for me."

Carefully Lionel wiped his mouth and face with a hand, rubbing what he hadn't managed to gulp down on the edge of the sheet. "You aren't suddenly thinking that perhaps I'm a pervert, are you?" he asked, laughing nervously.

"I'm thinking how very lucky I am. I didn't know whether you'd love me at all. Or if perhaps you'd love me but be disgusted by the idea of touching like this."

Grinning, Lionel turned his face against Bertie's palm, which had slid from the top of his head to the side of his face. "I'm afraid I'm rather shameless in bed. And perhaps something of a hedonist in bed with you."

"I hope so, because I do believe it's my turn." Bertie tilted Lionel's chin up so that Lionel could see his smile.

"Only if you want to. Promise me you'll never do anything with me out of a sense of obligation."

"If you knew how eager I was to explore every part of you..." Grinning more widely, Bertie wrapped his hand around Lionel's arm to tug him up, sitting up himself so he could press Lionel back against the pillows. "I told you, I want to indulge you."

Even after those kisses in the Abbey, Lionel had imagined that Bertie might be fairly conventional in his desires, or at least accustomed to lovers trained to please -- courtesans, if not whores. He hadn't fantasized a playful, fearless lover who would take Lionel's hands and press them to the headboard, leaving Lionel completely exposed so that Bertie could move down his body, kissing and licking everywhere without encumbrance.

The fact that Lionel hadn't washed more thoroughly did not seem to be any disturbance to Bertie, who sucked at his nipples and licked along the curve of his armpit. "Want to taste you here, and, mmmmm, yes, under here," Bertie murmured enthusiastically, reaching down to grasp Lionel's erection. "Your prick is very hard close up."

"You got it that way." Bertie's breath blew over it, making Lionel twitch. "You know what your teasing is doing to it..."

Warm, moist lips pressed down. "I can feel your pulse beneath my lips."

"You'll feel more than my pulse, I can't keep my hips still when you do that!"

"But I don't want you to keep still." The lips slid down, kissing his balls, then slid back up again. "I love feeling what I do to you when l kiss you here."

"You're going to feel what you do to me all over your face if you keep that up!"

"But I want to taste you. Better kiss deeper..."

Bertie's mouth opened, engulfing the head of Lionel's prick and sucking with enthusiasm. Lionel opened his mouth as well, but no words came out besides "Please!" Shuddering, he rocked into Bertie's mouth, feeling Bertie angle his head to see how far in he could take the shaft. Occasionally Bertie pulled back to swipe his tongue around the head and through the slit.

Somehow, Lionel knew, he had to find words to warn Bertie, but the crest was rising so quickly. He clutched at Bertie's shoulder. "Can't -- oh God --"

Bertie nodded, moving the suction of his mouth up and down Lionel's prick. That was enough, it was too much, and Lionel didn't dare speak again for fear he'd scream and alert the staff. Gritting his teeth, he grunted through his nose, jerking his hips, oblivious to everything but his prick spurting seed into the mouth of the King of England.

A rueful chuckle brought him back to himself, and he looked down, heart racing and chest heaving. Bertie was wiping white liquid off the side of his face with a corner of bed sheet. Grinning, he wiped off Lionel's thigh as well. "We'll need to practice this so much more."

"I tried to warn you," Lionel panted as apologetically as he could when his entire body felt like it was floating in paradise. "I couldn't stop."

"I didn't want you to stop. I love knowing I brought you such pleasure. Don't you think more mouth and jaw exercises would be good for me?"

The smile was so mischievous that Lionel couldn't help laughing, though he barely had breath for it. "Mouth exercises can only be good for your speech. Though if you get much better at it, I may forget how to talk."

"Not bad for a pair of novices." Bertie crawled up beside him, flopping down against the mattress. "Shall I kiss you, or would that be too odd?"

"I will never not want you to kiss me. I doubt there's anything you could do that I wouldn't find delightful." Lionel had tasted his own seed on Myrtle's skin, but he wondered whether Bertie had ever done the same. It was hard to imagine Elizabeth approving, and if Bertie had really shared whores with his brother, then Lionel thought putting his mouth on them might not have held much appeal. Bertie kissed him hesitantly at first, but the reluctance only lasted a moment.

"That is delightful, yes." Smiling against Lionel's mouth, Bertie slid an arm around his waist. "I don't know how I got so lucky as to have you."

"How you got so lucky? I'm the one who's in bed with the King of England."

"If you ever call me 'Your Majesty' in bed, I shall have to chop your head off." Giggling, Bertie kissed him again. "I am foremost your friend and even more precious to me, your lover." His smile faded, his expression growing intense. "Say you love me again, please."

"I love you." The words came more easily each time Lionel said them. "I'm sure now that I've loved you for years, but I never dared to hope it could be like this."

"I dreamed of hearing you say it. I've loved you so desperately. I will love you for as long as I live, even if you want to stop doing this..."

Bertie gestured at the bed and Lionel caught his hand, unable to withstand the sadness in his eyes. "You never needed to love me desperately. I could never have refused you anything."

"I was afraid my own passion was leading me to see things that weren't there. Whether your smile was loving or merely friendly, whether your touch was necessary for my speech or the same need for contact that I felt for you."

"If you had asked a year ago, I might have taken the coward's answer and told you it was necessary that I touch you, but I think I've always known better. I tried to pretend that it was because you were a king, not a man." Lionel was very glad that Bertie had not asked; Bertie would have accepted his answer, and in all likelihood, neither of them would ever have dared to ask again. In truth, though, Lionel didn't know what he would have said, whether he might have blurted out everything he'd never really let himself think.

"I never meant to ask. I never meant to kiss you that night, either -- if I had thought to plan it, I would have lost my nerve. Suddenly, there you were, smiling at me, and I forgot all the reasons not to." Bertie's smile burst across his face, and again Lionel was reminded of sunrise. "Did you mean what you said yesterday about going away together?"

"If you could really do it. I would love to be someplace alone with you." Lionel wondered whether there was anyplace so isolated that it would be possible to forget all the names and titles that were never completely outside Lionel's consciousness even when he was trying to make Bertie ignore them.

"If there is one advantage to being king, it's the ability to demand absolute privacy. There's a lodge at Balmoral, nearly a mile from the castle...it belongs to my family, not to the Crown." Bertie's voice filled with longing. "When can you get away?"

"Not before the end of next week." Lionel quickly tried to think of appointments he would need to postpone, patients he'd need to refer to another speech therapist, whether he'd promised his sons to take them anywhere special, whether Myrtle had asked him to accompany her anywhere specific. "But surely your schedule is more full than mine."

"It's not as crowded in the summer. I'll tell my staff I need some focused speech therapy before the State Opening of Parliament. They'll make all the arrangements."

"Will I still see you during the week?" Lionel was loath to disrupt their lessons, though Bertie's speech was so much improved that often more than a week went by without a meeting face to face, though they spoke on the telephone more frequently.

"Oh, yes. I want to come to your office -- I want to kiss you on your sofa as I've dreamed."

The words made Lionel shiver, not entirely with excitement. His boys knew better than to burst into his office when he was with a patient, but some of the younger patients forgot to knock before they entered, even if they were early. "Just remind me to be careful. I am liable to get carried away and forget myself. You know I wouldn't let you be hurt for the world, sweetheart."

"I know." Bertie's smile was misty. "I like it when you call me that. I'm sorry we have to be so discreet here, but we'll go to our retreat and indulge each other shamelessly. Now that I have you, I won't let anything keep us apart."

"It sounds heavenly. Or better than heavenly, because it's real..." Now that he was trying to think of endearments, Lionel found them all insufficient. Darling was so common, and precious one sounded artificial. He settled for, "...love."

"I feel as if I haven't stopped smiling since you first said that word to me." Bertie's lips pressed against Lionel's, letting him feel the corners turning up. "I know you wouldn't be here like this if it was just a whim to either of us."

"I wish I'd said it years ago. I wish I'd shouted it after you that day in the park."

"I wanted to hear it more than anything." Burying his face against Lionel's shoulder, Bertie wrapped his arms tightly around Lionel's waist. "I nearly turned round as it was -- I wish I had."

"I was sure I'd see you again the next day. It took several days to sink in that you weren't coming back and didn't want to see me." Abruptly something came clear to Lionel. "I suppose I thought you already knew. That I pushed you so hard that day because I loved you and believed in you -- I thought it would give you confidence, and make you realize you could be self-sufficient. I thought you wanted more of a proud father figure."

Huffing a laugh, Bertie stroked a finger down his cheek. "I never thought of you as my father."

"I didn't mean literally as your father; he was the King of England, I would never have dreamed of presuming." Lionel shook his head, wondering how many years as an elocutionist it would take for him to become adept enough with words not to keep saying the wrong things. "I thought you needed the sort of encouragement you told me you didn't get from him. I went on about what a great king you could be when I should have told you what a great man you already were."

Bertie's eyes widened in shock. "I'm not a great man," he insisted. "You made me think that I should try to be. Only I wasn't sure whether that was for England, or for you."

"You are a great man. You were before you ever met me." Lionel looked at him sternly. "You were always brave, and persistent, and loyal. I was a fool to let you walk away without telling you that."

"It was never your fault. My feelings were so confused already. There was so much pressure on me from everyone. Churchill was already warning me that the government would collapse if David stayed, but I couldn't face the thought of him leaving. I panicked, and I pushed away my only friend just when I needed him most."

The words made Lionel's chest ache. "I forced your hand. I felt terrible when I understood that. Though maybe it was necessary -- your absence made me realize that I should take more care with your feelings, and how deep my own feelings for you went." Perhaps, thought Lionel, he had grasped some part of it; it simply hadn't shocked him as it should have when Bertie had kissed him that first time in Westminster Abbey. "Maybe we needed to misunderstand each other so badly or we'd never have tossed all that protocol aside."

"You're right, of course. Being apart showed me how much I needed you, even if it was only as my dear friend and speech therapist." Bertie's face rubbed against his shoulder. "As long as you'll stay with me now. I wouldn't trade this for anything."

"Nor would I, Bertie." Lionel paused. "Love."

He felt a bit silly repeating the word, but Bertie lifted his head and smiled. "I love the way you say my name, too."

Lionel laughed in surprise. "I thought that always rankled a bit. I never had any delusions that you considered me family."

"I only let you think it rankled me. I insisted on calling you 'Doctor' so you would have to keep reminding me to call you Lionel."

"Which you persistently refused to do. I thought perhaps you disliked the name."

"It's my favorite name in the world." With an exuberant laugh, Bertie kissed him. "And all yours. George was always more my father's name than mine, and Albert was the prince whose bed we're in. I'm glad you've always called me Bertie." Bertie lowered his eyes shyly. "You always took such loving care of me."

The praise made Lionel blush. To deflect it, he said, "It always made me very happy to see you come through the door. So my motives were selfish. I knew that pleasing the monarchy would bring me pleasure as well."

"You have pleased your monarch in ways of which he has never dreamed." Smiling, Bertie turned his cheek against Lionel's. "Or perhaps he dreamed of it, but he did not expect that you would make him so happy."

"I want to go someplace where I can spoil you completely. I'll tell my pupils that I'm needed for extended work with a very important patient." Myrtle might be less happy, but Myrtle would also be bursting with pride that the king had given Lionel such an invitation. She had been talking about wanting to visit Australia, by herself if Lionel couldn't get away to go with her; perhaps it was time to start planning her holiday.

"I'll have the staff arrange to stock the lodge and prepare the car. I'll tell everyone I need very vigorous speech therapy. No one will suspect anything -- I'm a married man with two children. I don't think anyone expects me to be running off with you as my lover."

Lionel shivered as Bertie's fingers traced over his cheek. "Whoever cleans this room is bound to wonder what you've been up to," he pointed out.

"No one would dare ask. There might be a raised eyebrow in the laundry." Bertie grinned widely enough that Lionel could feel it against his own skin. "It will only enhance my reputation if there is gossip about how vigorous the king's climaxes are."

Laughing, Lionel nodded. "Well, I won't worry about it if you won't."

"My staff already knows I can be a bit odd. And please don't let it grieve you, but I'm sure they think that you are as well, what with the tongue twisters and singing vowels."

"I am a bit peculiar." Lionel tried to sound concerned. "You told me so yourself, not long after we'd met. You should be careful, or I may turn you peculiar, too."

Bertie burst into giggles. "I think it's too late to worry about that. I'm sure I'm a bit peculiar. Possibly even a bit queer."

"And here I am in bed with you. Anyone would believe I was just as queer as you." Lionel was glad that Bertie was laughing. "If anyone finds us like this, we'll have to claim that it was all a very peculiar form of speech therapy."

"'That was merely a new form of breathing exercises!'"

"Well, you were breathing quite hard. And not stammering at all." Lionel couldn't resist kissing Bertie's smile. "Relaxing must agree with you."

"Having you in my bed agrees with me."

"Truly?" Lionel pressed against him suggestively. "Then perhaps you had better keep me here."

"Why Doctor Logue, I believe the rumors are true -- you may be a bit queer."

"Surely that can't be true. I'd have noticed."

"Your prick hasn't let you know that you enjoy the attentions of men?"

Chuckling, Lionel glanced down at his still-recovering lower body. "There's only one man who has ever stirred my prick, and he's a king, so I thought that changed things." Bertie was looking at him seriously, so he amended, "Truly, there's never been another man. Not even in fantasy. When I was very young, we boys used to run around getting into all sorts of trouble together, but as soon as I could get girls interested in me, that was all I thought about."

With a smile, Bertie rubbed his cheek. "I was never curious about men either. I went through the Naval College and never felt the slightest inclination to know whether it was true what they say about sailors. Even though I wasn't good with women -- I was glad to be married and out of the round of society's efforts to marry the king's sons."

"Society's loss is your wife's gain." Lionel paused, wondering whether Bertie had been entirely honest the evening before, when he had been trying to convince Lionel that there should be no obstacles to their sharing a bed. "She won't be upset about all this?"

Bertie considered for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't think so. My feelings weren't a secret. She knew that if I had the opportunity, I might act on them. She would rather protect me than make things difficult for me."

"It wasn't her discretion that concerned me. I would never want to ruin your family's happiness."

"You're the one who gives my family a happy husband and father. I can bear what I must if I know I have your love."

Lionel kissed his forehead. "You would still have my love if you told me we couldn't do this again."

"I'll never tell you that." Bertie swallowed as if bracing himself for his next words. "Are you asking about my wife because yours won't understand all this?"

"My wife, who makes highly inappropriate remarks about what we might be doing locked away in the study?" Lionel watched as Bertie's mouth opened, then burst into laughter once more. "Are you horrified?"

"Just the opposite. Delighted." Still laughing, Bertie buried his face in Lionel's hair. "How I wish both of us had listened to her, and we could have been pouncing on each other for months. Remind me to send her flowers. Or a tiara."

At that, Lionel couldn't help chuckling, too. "She would like a tiara. She wore one to your coronation, but it was rented."

"I remember. You both looked very elegant, but I'm afraid my eyes were mostly on you."

"Mine have always been on you. I don't know how I managed to convince myself it might mean anything other than what it now seems so obvious to me it meant all along."

"I could stay here and look at you all day." Bertie grinned broadly, then glanced at the now-bright window, regret crossing his face. "Though I don't dare keep you in bed with me much longer this morning, or there really may be gossip."

"I suppose I had better be resting on your sofa when they come to announce your breakfast." Lionel pressed his lips to Bertie's forehead, closing his eyes, reverent. "You must know how grateful I am. To you. And to God, I suppose."

"Whatever power brought us together. Even the Archbishop with all his disapproval, because defending you just made me want to kiss you."

For as long as Lionel lived, he would never forget the look on Bertie's face when he insisted to the Archbishop that Lionel would stay. Bertie had been rightly outraged, but there had also been possessiveness in the glance he turned on Lionel. "I suspect I was staring at you in adoration. Which is probably why the Archbishop was so disapproving."

"Then we owe him as well. I'll make a donation to the Church fund. Those whose loyalty I can't command with my title can often be placated with gifts." Sighing, Bertie let his arms slide away from Lionel so that they could both sit up. "When we're in Scotland, no one will ever wake us for breakfast. We can sleep together all night and I can tell you all the ways I love you."

"Only if you let me do the same. I want to recite poetry to you. I want to sing love songs, loudly, where no one else can hear, until you're so tired of my voice that you beg me to stop."

"That won't ever happen." They knelt together to pick up the clothes they had discarded piece by piece across the room, grinning at one another. "I will never get enough of you, unless you decide you've had too much of me."

"No, it is I who will never get enough of you. I'll have an empty space in my heart when I can't be with you."

"Then it's very simple." Straightening, Bertie held out a hand to help Lionel rise. "We'll just have to find ways to stay together forever."


One Lesson

Bertie kept his head down and his collar high as he walked to the door, though he could guess that Lionel's neighbors had seen him going inside many times before. His driver had told him that people came out to gawk at the car whenever it was parked near Harley Street. Never again would he and Lionel walk through the park, unrecognizable, now that he was the king, though that did not upset Bertie, whose unhappiest memories were linked to that walk.

Soon, very soon, he would take Lionel far away from London, on paths in the Highlands where only a royal could go.

No small boys passed Bertie as he stepped into the outer room of Lionel's office. Lionel had suggested that he come round to the house, but Bertie had wanted to see him where they had first met and spent so much time working since. With everything that had changed recently, Bertie needed to see for certain that some things had not.

Even though he knew Lionel was waiting, he rapped on the door. When it opened, Lionel gave him the same smile of welcome that he always did. He looked warm -- it was an unusually hot spring in London, one of many reasons Bertie was eager to escape to the relative cool of Scotland -- and Lionel had taken off his waistcoat and tie, as Lionel often did when he was working with patients on physical exercises.

Bertie hadn't needed a coat, but he'd been afraid that his erection would show to passersby if he didn't wear it. Gratefully he took it off, letting Lionel take it from him to hang it up.

"Did you have a speech to work on, or are we just...exercising?" asked Lionel, winking.

"Just exercising, p-please." Bertie let himself collapse onto the sofa, unable to take his eyes off Lionel. He hadn't realized how nervous he was till he'd come through the door.

"Bad day at the office?" Lionel sat beside him, picked up his hand, and rubbed it, massaging outward from the palm. It wasn't impossible that Lionel would have touched him that way before, yet Bertie nearly melted at the contact, thinking he might slide off the sofa.

"Oh, that's nice. I've had piles of documents to sign and date. I don't think even the ministers who wrote them understand them. I want to ask them to put them into plain English, but I'm told that this is how it has always been done, therefore we must adhere to p-protocol...you see, I can't even speak properly any longer."

"If the documents don't make sense to you, I wonder what sort of sense they can make to anyone." Lionel glanced at him as if to be certain he wasn't overstepping.

Bertie had been fixated on their hands, watching as Lionel slowly squeezed each of his fingers. His wrist felt looser but his trousers felt tight. He smiled shyly. "That's what Elizabeth said."

Lionel reached for his other hand. "Her Majesty has always been very clever."

"She was clever enough to know I needed you." Bertie couldn't hold in a soft groan as Lionel's fingers and thumb pressed down.

"Did you mean in general or today in particular?"

"Both. She told me to tell my secretary to cancel my afternoon appointments." Bertie leaned his head back against the sofa, and after a few moments Lionel released his hand, reaching to loosen his tie. "I need you now," he said in a rush.

Smiling, Lionel brushed his fingers over Bertie's cheek. "Tell me what you need."

"Anything. Kiss me. Please."

Lionel leaned in, opening Bertie's collar while his mouth moved softly over Bertie's. It wasn't nearly enough, and Bertie tugged him closer, seeking to deepen the kiss. He'd imagined this so many times -- having Lionel turn to him and kiss him in the consultation room, or grabbing Lionel and doing it himself. This sofa had been the first and most frequent location of all of Bertie's daydreams involving Lionel. With a groan, he cupped the back of Lionel's head, arching against him.

After a few minutes, when they had broken apart to catch their breath, Lionel gestured toward the door. "May I take you somewhere more comfortable?"

The absence of a lock on the door and the large windows, open to let in fresh air, were likely bigger concerns than the state of the sofa. Even when the windows were shut, Bertie knew that people could overhear out in the corridor if anyone made too much noise inside the consultation room. Surely Lionel would think Bertie was mad if Bertie admitted that he'd had a longtime fantasy of a lesson during which Lionel would urge Bertie to his knees, pull his prick out of his trousers, and instruct Bertie to suck it, with both of them pretending that it was merely another exercise.

So Bertie nodded, untangling his hands from behind Lionel's head, rubbing the side of his face against Lionel's cheek. Getting to his feet, Lionel extended a hand. His face was flushed. "A bed would be better for full-body exercises."

Maybe Lionel had inappropriate consultation room fantasies, too. That certainly would be worth exploring if they could arrange to have the windows covered and the door bolted shut. Taking the offered hand, Bertie gave him a grateful smile. He was feeling more relaxed by the moment -- at least, most of him was. "I need a thorough grounding in your methods," he said as he stood.

"You were stammering when you came in here. Your jaw must be very tight. I've canceled my afternoon appointments, too, and warned Myrtle that I might be late for supper, so we have plenty of time." Lionel led him across the room and into the hallway on the other side of the waiting area. Bertie had only ever been as far as the loo, though he'd known there were other doors beyond it.

Bertie waited until Lionel had led him into a small room, with garish blue flowers on the wallpaper and a narrow bed against the wall, to kiss him again. "You take such good care of me."

Chuckling, Lionel turned the lock, then held out his arms. "My motives aren't entirely selfless. You're still a bit overdressed..." His fingers went to work on Bertie's buttons.

The idea of being naked in a moderately well-lit room in the middle of the afternoon was both embarrassing and arousing. Bertie reached for Lionel's sleeves, removing the cufflinks. "You're still a bit overdressed, too." He helped Lionel shake his arm out of one sleeve, then the other, sliding his fingers around the back of Lionel's neck and into his hair. "Tell me what exercises we'll be doing today."

Lionel tugged the bedcovers down, returning to the role of teacher. "Would mouth exercises be most helpful? Or does the rest of you feel just as tense?"

"All of me feels tense." Bertie pushed down his suspenders and reached for the button on his trousers. "And I want what will relax you, too. Didn't you tell me what's good for the p-prick is good for the voice?"

Stilling his hands, Lionel sat on the bed, looking up at him. "Try that again."

"What's good for the willy --"

"No. The other." Lionel shook his head as Bertie planted a knee beside him, urging him back. "Say it if you want it."

"Prick. Want your prick." Ps were as difficult as ever, and Bertie had trouble remembering any strategies when he had Lionel lying down so willingly to let Bertie tug his trousers off. He smiled at Lionel's delighted laugh. "I told you you're a good teacher. Now do I get my reward?"

"Not while you're still wearing anything that could be stained." Lionel's fingers deftly moved over Bertie, taking off the rest of his clothing, until they were both wearing nothing but socks. "It's too warm even for these," said Lionel, pushing his own off with his toes. "There. Feeling better?"

"I always feel better when I see you. Though I must admit that it's a whole different sort of 'better' now that I know I can do this..." Bertie kissed him, waiting for Lionel to respond, gratified that in this little room behind a bolted door, Lionel kissed back with the same passion he'd shown at Buckingham Palace. "Oh, you've improved my day immeasurably."

"What happened this morning that was so stressful?"

"Nothing special, which is why it's so frustrating. It's always the same, regimented and scheduled. I barely have time to piss unless it's on the schedule."

Lionel burst out laughing. "You should tell your staff that you require unscheduled pissing. Same principle as speaking, let it flow..." Giggling a bit, Bertie nodded. "You need to relax. Put that on the schedule."

Placing a finger on Lionel's bare chest, Bertie pretended to be writing with it, making swirls in the thin hairs between the nipples. "At eleven o'clock, I shall need a lengthy unscheduled piss, and at half-past eleven, I shall send a car for my lover, Lionel..." The moving finger made Lionel squirm. "You're right, if I could keep my own hours, it wouldn't be so difficult. Unfortunately, it's only easy with you."

"You're going about this backward." Lionel turned so that his mouth was brushing Bertie's ear. "You want it to be easy with those ponces at the Palace, and hard with me."

"It is hard," moaned Bertie, his breath coming faster. "It's very hard for you."

"How refreshingly unregimented." Lionel's fingers brushed down Bertie's hip, reaching to touch his prick, which throbbed in enthusiastic response. "When did these symptoms begin? Did you try relieving them in the usual manner?"

"You know they began as soon as you walked in the bloody room!" Bertie snorted. "I wanted your professional opinion before I did anything."

Lionel slid a hand up and down the shaft, grinning possessively. "I must warn you, first, that I'm not really a doctor. But I do have some experience with this condition. It looks fairly normal to me. A bit larger than usual. What other symptoms have you noticed?"

"I keep thinking about you. I want you to bugger me all the time. Can I be cured?"

Humming, Lionel shook his head. "My professional opinion, sir, is that you have a contagious case of priapism."

Bertie tried not to be obvious about pushing into his fingers. "Do you mean to tell me that I have infected you?" Lionel stroked him as he nodded. "I can feel that your credentials are impressive. Could you instruct me in the proper treatment?"

"I'm afraid it's rather strenuous..." Lionel's voice had dropped nearly to a growl. It made Bertie moan, arching up to kiss him. "And I must warn you that I have only common rapeseed oil in my prescription cabinet."

"That may be just as well. Olive oil might make me smell like I had dinner during speech therapy." Bertie had managed a joking conversation with a friend of his youngest brother -- "friend" in a sense that Bertie knew better than to question -- about illicit uses of dining table condiments, and so had discovered that while olive oil was the commodity of choice among those who could afford it, rapeseed oil could be quite as effective, even butter in an emergency. The friend had been so drunk that, even if he remembered the conversation, Bertie doubted that he would tell Georgie about it for fear that Georgie would think his friend had been indiscreet to his brother rather than vice versa.

"You deserve better than this, but I'm not encouraging you to look elsewhere." Lionel shifted his weight on the mattress, opening a box on the table by the bed. It appeared to contain perfume and various other containers, among which a small unmarked glass bottle of oil hardly seemed noteworthy.

"I never shall look elsewhere. I never have." Bertie rubbed a foot encouragingly along Lionel's thigh. "Will this be enough for you? To have this only when we can steal away?"

Lionel smiled warmly at him, though his eyes were sad. "Right now it feels like it will never be enough. Maybe when this isn't so new, when we know it won't disappear...but I'm not complaining."

"I don't deserve better. I don't even deserve you." Bertie leaned up for a kiss. "Tell me you aren't unhappy. I know I can't command you never to look elsewhere when I can't give myself to you fully, only in stolen moments..."

Lionel pressed a finger against Bertie's lips. "Never speak like that. If I've failed to express how happy you make me, I must believe I'm a terrible elocutionist." He waited for Bertie to nod, then winked. "It is very difficult to be worthy of the son of an Australian brewer, but you make a noble effort." The kiss they shared was firm and sweet as Lionel spilled oil over his fingertips, dripping some on the bed.

"You're worth the effort. I'd knight you if I didn't think it would cause gossip."

"You gave me that lovely MVO medal. If you knighted me, the elocutionists and English specialists would squawk so much that and it wouldn't be safe for you to see me. I don't want any scandal." Lionel's smile turned naughty. "Besides, there are other demands I'd rather make of you."

"Why, sir, what sort of demands did you have in mind?" Despite the words, Bertie raised his knees in invitation and felt Lionel's fingers rubbing behind his bollocks. "You deserve a reward for your loyalty."

"You haven't stammered once since I got your clothes off. That's reward enough."

"You're a very good speech therapist, but an even better lover." Bertie felt as if he were glowing with happiness as Lionel's finger breached him. "You may use that as a testimonial if you wish. I, Albert Frederick Arthur George, King of Great Britain etcetera, declare Lionel Logue to be the finest speech therapist in all my kingdom and the most passionate lover in the world."

"No, Bertie. That's you." With a soft moan, Lionel began to move the finger in and out.

"I'm only passionate with you. No one ever thought I was before. I'm just so eager for everything we do..." He drew in a sharp breath as Lionel pushed in a second finger, stretching him. "You make my responsibilities feel worthwhile, because then I get to see you."

Lionel had paused to see whether he was causing Bertie pain, so Bertie pressed down on the fingers, squeezing a bit. It made him blush a bit how much he liked it on the bottom. He couldn't help wondering whether Lionel thought that was somehow more queer, but Lionel unraveled with such intensity inside him that Bertie never wanted to stop doing it that way.

"I love seeing you like this. But I never want it to interfere with your duties," Lionel said, looking over him as if Bertie were dinner and Lionel hadn't eaten in days.

"It won't. It makes everything easier. It makes me so happy that you want me -- Bertie, not the King of England."

Slowly Lionel withdrew his fingers, reaching again for the oil. "I tried so hard not to," he admitted. "I thought it was inappropriate...indecent, even. But I couldn't help myself."

Wriggling in anticipation, Bertie grinned at him. "You thought something was inappropriate?"

Lionel was laughing when he stretched over him. "From a professional standpoint. Wanting to bugger one's patients is generally frowned upon. Even when one is completely besotted with a particular patient."

His brows lowered in concentration as he pressed inside, much more slowly than the first time. Bertie knew now to tilt his hips and exhale, and the sting passed quickly.

"All right?"

"Much better than all right." Bertie bucked up, encouraging Lionel to move. "You must know I never felt like this with anyone."

"I never thought it was possible to feel such things." Lionel's breath was already coming in pants. He reached for Bertie's prick, stroking it with his thrusts. Bertie focused on muscles he'd never used like this, squeezing around Lionel, and was rewarded with a soft cry.

They moved together without speaking, with Bertie frotting shamelessly against Lionel, whose hand was moving just a bit too slowly. Groaning, Bertie put his own hand on top of Lionel's, stroking himself with Lionel's fingers, and felt Lionel shudder.

"I'll go mad if you do that."

"Go mad, then -- want to watch you lose control --"

"Bertie..." Lionel's hand sped up beneath his, twisting as it moved, and Bertie arched back on the bed, eyes fluttering closed in bliss. "I'll go too fast. I'll hurt you."

"You've never hurt me. I want it harder. Please!"

The bed creaked beneath them as Lionel's hips snapped. "Fuck!" Lionel's eyes were unfocused. Bertie had never seen him so wild; Lionel was usually so even-tempered, so much in possession of himself.

Just thinking that he had made Lionel look like that pushed Bertie right to the edge. "Just like that, never want to stop!" He let his hand slide off Lionel's, clutching at the sheet beneath him. "Can't live without --" No way to continue, only to finish. Bertie's voice dissolved into a groan as he clenched around Lionel, shaking in release.

He was never going to outlast Lionel, he thought dimly as consciousness returned. Lionel was watching him, hips still moving. At least Lionel was moaning continuously.

"Do it," whispered Bertie, unable to find his full voice. "Come for me."

"Bertie, oh --" Lionel's eyes rolled back as climax seemed to crest over his entire body. Bertie clung to him, smiling breathlessly. He couldn't imagine how he had lived without this, a month ago or a year ago. No wonder his life had felt so joyless, despite how much he adored his girls and how grateful he was for Elizabeth's unwavering support. He had never understood how completely love could change the entire world.

They lay together, panting, both slick with sweat that the faint breeze from the single window did little to cool. "I'm terrible at controlling myself with you," Lionel said ruefully. "Especially when you say things like that to me. Are you sore?"

Bertie shook his head. "Not at all. I loved feeling you come apart like that."

With a soft chuckle, Lionel slid out of him, collapsing against him on the narrow mattress. "Just promise you'll stop me before I go too far."

"I don't want you to be cautious around me. Everyone else is. I want you to be as you always were -- I promise that, no matter what, I'll never again have my secretary show you the door."

Lionel's arms pulled him close. "I'm not cautious around you. But I don't want to be too incautious, either. I'm not insensible to the risks." He hummed for a few moments, until Bertie recognized the tune and grinned: it was "I Can't Give You Anything But Love."

"You're always what I need. I try not to wish for things I can't have, but if I could have just one, it would be to keep you with me always."

Lionel's breath caught, then resumed, sounding shaky. "You wouldn't want that. I have terrible manners. I'd be an embarrassment."

"You have lovely manners for an Australian." Bertie waited to hear Lionel laugh, but the chuckle seemed forced. He lifted himself up to make certain he hadn't offended Lionel. "I'm joking, of course. You could never be an embarrassment. Though I sometimes think you delight in playing the fool, especially when there's too much pomp and ceremony weighing down on me."

"In my theatrical career, I played fools and kings both. But think how quickly I'd make a fool of myself if I were too often at court. If you have trouble dealing with your ministers, when you grew up among ministers, I can't imagine there's anything I could say to impress them."

"You wouldn't be expected to impress them. Just me, and you do that already." Bertie knew that it must sound like he was clinging, even though Lionel was the one with his arms around Bertie. "This is why I try not to wish for things I can't have."

"But you do have me, love." The endearment went straight to Bertie's chest, tightening it, making him press closer to Lionel with a soft whimper. "If you had me with you more than you already do, we would both be under much more scrutiny than we are now. So long as they think I know my place, they have no reason to doubt you."

"As long as you know your place is with me."

"You may have noticed that it's a place I very much appreciate." Lionel was smiling as he bent down for a kiss. "I love having you with me whenever we can. When we can't, I have to make do with seeing you look handsome and distinguished in the newsreels."

"I look stuffy." Bertie wrinkled his nose. "Regal."

"And unbearably attractive in that uniform, covered in medals and ribbons and buttons."

"I clink when I walk! That can't be attractive." Lionel wriggled a bit to contradict him, and Bertie found that he was grinning once more as he leaned back to regard him. "Shall I wear it when we rehearse my next broadcast?" Bertie still found it as difficult to speak with his coat on as he did when he was forced to sit or when the windows were shut, but he suspected they wouldn't be progressing very far in the speech at the rehearsal.

"Oh yes. I think you must." Lionel's eyes had dilated a bit. "So that you'll feel the part of the king as completely as possible, you should rehearse in the proper attire."

"We'll have to leave time for mouth and throat exercises before I begin. As always, I must obey my speech therapist's instructions. He has only my best interests at heart." Lowering his head, Bertie sighed against Lionel's chest.

Lionel rubbed his face in Bertie's hair. "Your speech therapist loves you very much," he whispered as if sharing a precious secret.

Clutching at him unabashedly, Bertie stroked Lionel's back. "And I return his love quite ardently." He'd needed to hear that, and to say it, even more than he'd needed to make love.

"Then you've made me the happiest man in the kingdom." Lionel's head lifted, but only so that he could tilt Bertie's chin up for a kiss.

They smiled at each other before Bertie tucked his head between Lionel's neck and shoulder once again. It would have been more comfortable in a cooler room, yet Bertie had never felt better -- safe and cared for and adored. With a small laugh, he added, "I just hope I don't get hard thinking of you the next time I have to wear my uniform for some state occasion."

"I get hard in the most inappropriate places just from seeing your photograph on the walls. The grocer, the shop where my boys buy their models, the school..."

Bertie moaned at each revelation. "That seems only fair, because I get hard for you in Council meetings and during formal dinners."

Lionel kissed his forehead. "I'll lose control if you tell me things like that, too."

"Then I shall always say it." Turning, Bertie rubbed his cheek against Lionel's jaw. "You know that I'm thinking about it even when I can't say it, when we're surrounded by Archbishops and ministers."

He felt rather than saw Lionel's nod. "I wish I could do more. I wish I could love away every misery inflicted on you. Don't ever think I'd let your chosen career get in the way of my feelings."

Joy swelled in Bertie, more complete than the laughter that Lionel had yet again coaxed out of him. "I get through bad mornings by thinking of being with you like this. Loving you is the purest pleasure I've ever known, more than I know how to say."

"If you'd like, I could recommend some exercises to help with your speech."

The sheets were damp with sweat beneath them, and Bertie knew that, eventually, he was going to have to peel himself apart from Lionel, clean up, and go back to muddling through state papers. Perhaps he and Lionel would even do some vocal exercises in the consulting room before he left.

For now, he let his giggle vibrate Lionel's belly, burrowing beneath his arm. "I've already learned a reliable method for relaxing the throat," he said. "I shall want to practice it soon."
Comments 
18th-Apr-2011 09:52 am (UTC)
Rereading these two bits, I find them almost unbearably hot. The sex is wonderfully-written, but you know what? It wouldn't be nearly so arousing WITHOUT the schmoop! Lionel and Bertie invest every aspect of their physical joining with all the tenderness, humor and mutual regard that define their non-sexual relationship. Their lyrical romantic conversations outside of bed sizzle beneath the sweetness and their monosyllabic exchanges at the height of passion are almost innocent and pure because, for these characters as you write them, there is no separation between love and sex -- in a very realistic way, their physical connection is an inevitable extension of the mingling of their souls.
18th-Apr-2011 01:29 pm (UTC)
You comments always make me so, so happy. I am sure you have realized by now that we are all about the love story -- and let me just say how delightful it is to write someone like Lionel who is so expressive with the L word even in that hairy real-life crossover that is canon. I don't think there would be sex between these characters if there wasn't great love and regard to begin with, they're both so invested in their other relationships and in Bertie's case in particular with propriety (for Lionel I think the propriety is more an extension of what's necessary where Bertie is concerned). Thank you, again!
26th-Apr-2011 12:17 am (UTC)
/puddle of goo/
*memories*
26th-Apr-2011 01:42 am (UTC)
*g* Thank you! It's pretty heavy on the utterly ridiculous schmoop scale as well as the gratuitous porn scale!
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