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Lance steadily pulled the velvet blanket back, covering himself as he could. "I have no reason to lie to you."
"We are two men here, are we not?"
Pretty much covered with the velvet blanket, blue eyes bore into Fox, but Lance agreed. "We are."
"However it happened, our cocks are both hard. Can we admit to that?"
"Perhaps," Lance allowed.
"I wager that I can find my release sooner than you can."
"Why would I care?"
"Because getting off would feel good. We can certainly agree to that as well, can we not?"
Lance felt like he was being lead along the merry way. "I have a fiance and I do not chose to share intimate experiences with anyone else."
Fox tilted his head, pursed his lips. "Well, perhaps just a glass of port together and we can then discuss the matter of your sister's reparations."
"What could my sister owe you," Lance demanded, eyes narrowed. "You leave my sister alone!"
"You should consider the mess she's left you in," Fox pointed out. He rose, strode across the room to a cabinet from which he took a heavy crystal decanter and a couple of glasses. "Come, let us drink like gentlemen."
Under the cover of the blanket, Lance straightened out his clothes. Fox moved with a powerful grace, a tight power to him that did touch something in Lance. He shivered, licked his upper lip slightly. "Yes, fine. A drink between gentlemen."
Fox nodded, poured them each a tall glass of the thick dark sweetness. He brought Lance's to him, holding it out with a charming smile. "To working out our differences."
"Here, here!" Lance said, taking the glass. How he'd manage to drink the whole thing, he wasn't sure.
Fox tipped his glass back and drank it. Lance's eyes went wide. He wasn't about to be out done, not by this braggart pirate, in any case! It took him what felt like forever to put away the whole glass, but then he wiped his lips with the back of his hand and glared.
Smiling innocently, Fox held out the decanter. "Another?"
"Oh," Lancelot hedged.
"Come now, surely you can out drink your sister?"
"Well, of course," he said, suddenly feeling like he absolutely could! He held out his glass.
It was the beginning of a very interesting, if not memorable, night.
It was as though dawn opened, pulling the curtains back on on an over-bright and rancorous play, that Lancelot was not entirely sure he wished to attend. He groaned in protest and the throbbing pain in his head encouraged him to protest fate louder, promising him that the slightest sound would have his brain leaking out his ears.
Fox brushed his fingers over Lance's lips. The pretty pirate murmured appreciation in some words that Lancelot thought might actually have been English, if his brain were working, but it wasn't so he chalked the words up to garbled nonsense of a madman. Obviously he'd been poisoned by the pirate.
"Someone doesn't drink very often," Fox whispered in his ear. "Hangover cure sex now?"