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Title: The Sweetest Scent
Author: Cicero
Fandom: A Dangerous Man: Lawrence after Arabia
Pairing: Lawrence/Feisal
Rating: R
Summary: Lawrence remembers his first love.
Email Address: Cicerothewriter@livejournal.com
Categories: Drama, First Time
Feedback notes: Any kind of feedback will be appreciated, even if you just write me a one-line email telling me that you've read the story, and I will be happy.
Warnings: M/M kissing and groping
Notes: I started this story on Sunday 11 August 2002 several days after I had seen "A Dangerous Man." This story has remained on my computer since then, modified here and there, but is basically the way it was when I first wrote it. I don't consider it to be RPS since it is based upon the movie characterization of T. E. Lawrence, but it does refer to an actual human being and the real people and events in his life. If that bothers you, then you should probably skip this story.
Notes 2: This story is set in the train station after Lawrence has been told by Feisal that his father is sick. Lawrence has been speaking to two soldiers. Otherwise there are no real spoilers for the movie in this story. Lawrence was played by Ralph Fiennes, and Prince Feisal was played by Siddig el Fadil.
Disclaimer: I don't own A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia, or the real T. E. Lawrence. ADM was written by Tim Rose Price. T. E. Lawrence wrote himself. I am writing this for fun, not profit.

"This is the sweetest scent of all."

I have forgotten that I am sitting in a dismal train station with two strange soldiers. Instead I am back with Dahoum in the castle, smelling the scent of the desert, sweeter than any flower's essence. I was intoxicated by the atmosphere of the place, the great passion of the lovers, and the presence of Dahoum, as broad and big as I was thin and small. I stood looking out of the window into the wild desert. He came up behind me. I could feel the heat of his body, more sharp than the heat of the desert. He was so close that I could feel his breath on the back of my neck.

I closed my eyes, breathing in more of the desert and of my companion, for they were interchangeable. I could taste it in the air, feel it bathe my skin, and fill my being. Dahoum drew closer still, and I felt the hesitation before his lips touched my neck.

I let my head drift to the side, encouraging when once I had never done so before. One of his hands reached down to grasp my upper arm, while his other hand brushed gently through my hair, lightened by the sun, to support my head and hold me in place as his teeth gently bit down, his rough tongue slightly brushing back and forth on that small area.

Before he had teased me with his handsome maleness, with our differences, our similarities. I had not encouraged it, but I could not censure him, unless he was so bold as to do so in front of others. I had never felt these feelings before I came to Jerablus, and was unsure of how to deal with them. I had never before felt my flesh grow hard by the illusionary presence of another person. Never had I guessed that the image of a person alone could make me light headed with pleasure.

He pushed as close as he could, and I felt the flesh between his legs hard against my bottom. I moaned at this, and heard him sigh against my neck. He lifted his head slowly, and I twisted my head and body just enough to meet his eyes. He must have seen how close I was to letting him have what he wanted. His mouth descended to meet mine. It was the first time that I had been kissed by someone in passion. He teased my lips, tormented my body with his fingers, before pushing his tongue into my mouth.

I don't know how to describe it. It felt wonderful, as if he was possessing me in the very manner I had always wanted to be claimed. My body felt sensitized to the slightest contact. I was being consumed by sensations, and it started to scare me.

Something in my response must have communicated my fear because he pulled away slowly, allowing time to catch a breath, to settle a bit. Our harsh pants filled the silent desert.

"We mustn't," I said, regret filling my voice and my body.

"Maybe not," Dahoum replied.

I turned more to face him directly. He was looking at me with longing, which I felt in my chest and groin.

I reached for him, and we sank slowly to the ground, on our knees. My arms were around his shoulders, and his around the small of my back.

I have to shake myself now. I was getting entirely too emotional for the situation at hand. They are looking at me in uncomfortable fascination. I smile back at them self-consciously, aware of my flushed appearance.

"Well, anyways, you'll notice the difference right away." I set the coffee cup down, and go to my train. I have to wipe the minute tears from my face quietly.

Nothing much had happened that day or afterwards, although my body continued to react as I have described. Anything more would have been dangerous.

And there is something else, something that I am ashamed to admit even in my own thoughts.

Although I loved Dahoum, I was not in love with him. I did not feel the way I wanted to when I gave myself fully to another. We were too different. He loved me but he did not understand me. None of the natives understood the interest in digging up old relics, useless to them, but prized by us. Dahoum was intelligent but not in the same way as I. Abstract ideas had no meaning for him, and he did not find it an interesting topic about which to talk.

So I never gave anything more to him than that which he took that day in the castle. He loved me, I think, but he also understood our differences and the problems such a relationship would bring.

And I never found that vague feeling that I was looking for until I met Prince Feisal.

I refuse to think of that now. To think of this - of him - would demand treachery, and I am too tired to lie to myself now.

The train jerks roughly, adding the mental break. I am now going to see my dying father.



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