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salmon_pinkTitle: Honeymooning
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Lancelot/Charming/Snow
Rating: NC-17
Words: 614
Timeline: Lady Of The Lake
Notes: Threesome. For Threesome Thursday, and a prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ouatkinkmeme.
Summary: Their wedding day has been one of celebration and tragedy. Now the night shall be one of healing and togetherness.
Snow’s fingers lace through his own, squeezing gently, reassuring. She smiles at him, sweet and trusting, and Lancelot cannot help but smile back. It is as if there is something about her that reminds him of the man he used to be, the man he aspires to be once again, and in her presence redemption seems possible in a way it hasn’t since he rode from Camelot and left his life behind.
She reminds him of Guinevere, of the light he saw within her, and it surprises Lancelot that it does not hurt quite so much to think of his former love when he has Snow’s hand wrapped around his own.
It is their wedding night, Snow White and Prince Charming married at last, and he cannot help but feel he is intruding upon their union. But his attempts to excuse himself have been met with shaking heads and reaching arms, and he has to admit that he does not want to leave. And so he stays, as the stars begin to appear in the dark sky, as the soft glow of the fire becomes their only light.
When Snow kisses him, soft and loving, it feels inevitable. When Charming steals his own kiss from Lancelot’s lips, it feels just as right.
They undress slowly, each distracted by the others’ revealed skin. Snow has a smattering of brown freckles across her back that Lancelot and Charming both take turns to taste. The hair that leads down Charming’s navel is light as gold but satisfyingly rough against Lancelot’s tongue. Snow and Charming both explore his scars with their mouths, and at first he whispers tales of how he acquired each wound, but soon the words do not come and in their place are only earnest groans.
They kiss as one, the three of them together, and it is messy and eager and perfect, their smiles pressed to each others’ lips.
He never knew three people could fit together so perfectly like this, and a bitter part of him wonders how different his life in Camelot could have been if this knowledge had been his back then. But it is easy to push those thoughts aside with the distraction of the slide of Snow’s skin against his, the strength in Charming’s fingers, the noises they both make when Lancelot touches them.
Snow’s back is pressed to Lancelot’s chest when Charming takes her, her moan like music as he pushes inside, and she turns her head, kisses Lancelot’s jaw, as Charming bows his forehead to Lancelot’s shoulder. He strokes his hands over every part of them he can reach as they rock together, holding them close when they each shudder through orgasm, tasting their sex in the air. But the night is still young, and their passion is not quenched, and soon Lancelot feels the heat of Snow’s cunt, the clench of Charming’s ass, bodies twisted so close they no longer feel like three separate people.
And when the morning comes, weak dawn light stealing through their camp, they lay in a tangled embrace and welcome the new day together. There are tears on Charming’s cheeks, his mother’s grave fresh in the ground and within his heart, and Snow and Lancelot hold him together until the grief subsides, kissing the salt from his skin.
Their new life stretches out before them, husband and wife, and Lancelot knows he must move on, a fire burning in his heart to find his path once again. But for a few moments more he stays as he is, their heat warming him through and through, and cherishes the way they’ve allowed him to be a part of their happily ever after.
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Lancelot/Charming/Snow
Rating: NC-17
Words: 614
Timeline: Lady Of The Lake
Notes: Threesome. For Threesome Thursday, and a prompt at
ouatkinkmeme.Summary: Their wedding day has been one of celebration and tragedy. Now the night shall be one of healing and togetherness.
Snow’s fingers lace through his own, squeezing gently, reassuring. She smiles at him, sweet and trusting, and Lancelot cannot help but smile back. It is as if there is something about her that reminds him of the man he used to be, the man he aspires to be once again, and in her presence redemption seems possible in a way it hasn’t since he rode from Camelot and left his life behind.
She reminds him of Guinevere, of the light he saw within her, and it surprises Lancelot that it does not hurt quite so much to think of his former love when he has Snow’s hand wrapped around his own.
It is their wedding night, Snow White and Prince Charming married at last, and he cannot help but feel he is intruding upon their union. But his attempts to excuse himself have been met with shaking heads and reaching arms, and he has to admit that he does not want to leave. And so he stays, as the stars begin to appear in the dark sky, as the soft glow of the fire becomes their only light.
When Snow kisses him, soft and loving, it feels inevitable. When Charming steals his own kiss from Lancelot’s lips, it feels just as right.
They undress slowly, each distracted by the others’ revealed skin. Snow has a smattering of brown freckles across her back that Lancelot and Charming both take turns to taste. The hair that leads down Charming’s navel is light as gold but satisfyingly rough against Lancelot’s tongue. Snow and Charming both explore his scars with their mouths, and at first he whispers tales of how he acquired each wound, but soon the words do not come and in their place are only earnest groans.
They kiss as one, the three of them together, and it is messy and eager and perfect, their smiles pressed to each others’ lips.
He never knew three people could fit together so perfectly like this, and a bitter part of him wonders how different his life in Camelot could have been if this knowledge had been his back then. But it is easy to push those thoughts aside with the distraction of the slide of Snow’s skin against his, the strength in Charming’s fingers, the noises they both make when Lancelot touches them.
Snow’s back is pressed to Lancelot’s chest when Charming takes her, her moan like music as he pushes inside, and she turns her head, kisses Lancelot’s jaw, as Charming bows his forehead to Lancelot’s shoulder. He strokes his hands over every part of them he can reach as they rock together, holding them close when they each shudder through orgasm, tasting their sex in the air. But the night is still young, and their passion is not quenched, and soon Lancelot feels the heat of Snow’s cunt, the clench of Charming’s ass, bodies twisted so close they no longer feel like three separate people.
And when the morning comes, weak dawn light stealing through their camp, they lay in a tangled embrace and welcome the new day together. There are tears on Charming’s cheeks, his mother’s grave fresh in the ground and within his heart, and Snow and Lancelot hold him together until the grief subsides, kissing the salt from his skin.
Their new life stretches out before them, husband and wife, and Lancelot knows he must move on, a fire burning in his heart to find his path once again. But for a few moments more he stays as he is, their heat warming him through and through, and cherishes the way they’ve allowed him to be a part of their happily ever after.
