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It turns out that, for all the fuss that was made about it, this dance is actually very boring.
This is only just barely a surprise; any event that requires chaperones is an event that Lindsay generally doesn't look forward to. But it is true. Lindsay has had maybe a bit too much to drink, by now — he's accustomed to Bacchanal rites; the feeling is hardly unfamiliar — and successfully slipped away from his chaperone, and yet it is still boring.
"Hail Bacchus," soft and reverent.
(Lindsay's childhood, his dominance, Leo's submission, both of their love, and, of course —)
He takes a long drink from the bottle of wine, hands it to Leo.
Good boy. Good boy. He doesn't say it, but he puts his hands in Leo's hair and kisses him again once, twice, three times, and then blows the candle out and leaves them both in darkness.
Leo touches Lindsay's face in the darkness with his fingertips, as if he's trying to memorize it.
And Lindsay holds Leo close, presses his body into Leo's and touches his hair and whispers "Hail Bacchus" again.
"Thank you," he says after a moment.
"Ivy-covered Bacchus, the deliverer, the molly, he of the large balls, you have no reason to listen to me, because I'm only part of your cult because I like poetry and alcohol and Lindsay and I don't actually think you exist. Maybe 'I'm just here for the wine and sex' is the kind of spirit you want in your worshippers, I don't know. But Lindsay has been devoted to you, and he got in trouble because he drank too much and got too aroused and made bad decisions, which I think is basically getting in trouble because of how devoted he is to your service. So I think you should do your best to make sure Lindsay's new husband is kind, and treats him the way he deserves, and doesn't gamble or drink too much or make unwise investments, and thinks Lindsay should go to every Poetry Society meeting, and is at sea for years at a stretch so Lindsay and I can live together and have sex in every room of his house."
"Ivy-covered Bacchus, the deliverer, the molly, he of the large balls, thank you for everything you have given me — for friends, for self-knowledge, and," he holds Leo tighter for a brief moment, "for my Leo.
Please keep me safe. Please allow me to be devoted to you. Please let me keep my Leo at my side."
A pause. And then, very soft: "Hail Bacchus."
"Keep Lindsay safe. That's the most important thing. Hail Bacchus."
He kisses Lindsay lightly, almost chastely.
At the last 'hail Bacchus' the tension seems to drain out of Lindsay; he holds onto Leo like a lifeline now.
"Thank you," he says into Leo's shoulder. "For being here with me." He doesn't just mean at the ritual.
"Always." His fingers intertwine with Lindsay's. "If you need to run I'll run with you."
"We can run off to the Continent and, I don't know, I can teach, or you can pretend to be a dom and I'll be your husband, or something. I've written to people on the Continent, you could say you're Publicus."
"Everything I know about him so far is — not bad." He's mostly trying to reassure himself.
"Yes. And no matter what happens, I'm going to keep you safe. I promise." He kisses the back of Lindsay's hand.
"I still sometimes can't believe that I had the good fortune to meet you." He kisses Leo's knuckles.
"You're so predictable." He takes another drink of the wine and leads Leo to the bed, though.
"Of course you are." Once they're on the bed he puts the wine down and starts getting Leo's clothes off.
Leo helps. "I will do anything to honor my family and the gods and my country, as long as the thing I'm doing involves your mouth and my body."
"You're lovely." He kisses down Leo's jawline and neck and chest.
So does Lindsay.
"I think — mmm — I have too many clothes on. You should help with that."
"Lovely," he murmurs, and puts a hand on the back of Leo's head. "My lovely loving Leo."
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