AN: This is a series of smutty ficlets for each of the Spamalot ships. The title is based off of the song "The Lusty Month of May" from the musical Camelot.
The Lusty Month of May
Warnings: Smuttiness. M/M sex.
Herbert wasn't exactly thrilled when the little surprise vacation Lance had cooked up lead them to a little rinky-dink cabin in the middle of nowhere. He had been expecting a trip to the city or the beach perhaps? He knew his husband liked dance clubs, disco music, and divine hotel sheets as much as the next guy, but sometime Lance liked to return to roots and go . . . rustic.
"But, we're the only people around for miles," said Lance as he came up behind him and suckled the base of his neck as the stood before the humble little shack perched upon a hill, their home-away-from-home for the next two days.
Herbert all but broke out in a wild smile.
But sex had to wait for unpacking and settling in.
And then for a little hike.
Lance was like a child on a snow day when Herbert pulled out his grimy, old hiking boots. He wanted to get out now and go explore the hiking path to the lake that sloped down from the hill. A glance outside from Herbert and he wasn't thrilled by the overcast afternoon and the thought of putting on jeans and long-sleeved shirt in such sticky weather. He'd rather stay at the cabin, but in the end, he was willing to take Lance's hand and fall into an "adventure" with him.
Herbert's husband's presence could make even the darkest, dreariest afternoons wonderful. Surrounded by nature, they listened to the swallows sing their song and the wind rustled as they headed down through the thicket of forest to a gorgeous and expansive lake. Despite the grayness, the sight was something to be seen.
Everything seemed lovely . . . until it started raining.
Lance and Herbert were about three-fourths of a mile from the cabin when it started to drip - unimportant little trickles of rain.
Drip. Drizzle. Splat.
Big, fat pellets of rain began to fall, hitting Herbert right in the eye when he made the mistake of looking up.
They ran as fast as their legs could carry them, leaping practically up the hill as they tried to escape to safety under the roofed porch. Herbert's legs were on fire as they sprinted up with the cabin finally in reach. Lance hurriedly dug in his pocket for the metal key and finally fished it out.
Once inside, they dried off and put on pajama pants and tee-shirts. The little escapade in the rain was worthy of a hearty laugh and some hot chocolate. While Herbert tended to the kettle, Lance built up a toasty fire.
Hot chocolate warmed their souls while the fire warmed their bodies. But the fire wasn't a sole factor in keeping the couple warm. Still giggly, they had scooched closer together and after the empty ceramic mugs had been set aside, they were holding each other.
Sparks flew. Kisses were exchanged. Lance's fingers tugged at Herbert's soggy and wild curls. Naughty hands dipped below the waistbands and soon those pajamas were tossed aside, the two desperate to touch and heat up each other's bodies.
Up went Herbert's legs around Lance's neck, his fingers gripping hard at the other man's rock-hard biceps. Gasps, hitched breathing, moans and the crackling of the log on the fire filled the cabin as Lance filled Herbert.
They made love on the woven rug before the roaring fire.
They finished with Lance and Herbert laying cuddling,hands clasped together, panting and out of breath.
As Herbert bridged the gap between he and his husband with a passionate kiss, he knew that Lance, even with the four years of marriage, still knew how to surprise him.