Work Text:
Ali stared at him, the bemusement on his face clear even in the gloom of Lawrence's tent. "I come with you, of course."
Lawrence tried to keep his relief from his face but knew he had failed when Ali smiled at him.
"You would kill yourself with foolish bravery. Give Zaid his chance to prove his worth to Feisal. He will love you the more for it."
Lawrence turned away. He ran his fingers over the rug they were seated on. "I don't want his love. Love has no place in a war." He couldn't look at Ali, knowing the expression that would be on his face.
"You are wrong," Ali whispered. "There is no better place for it."
"No." Anger gave Lawrence the strength to meet Ali's gaze. "War is no time for the gentle emotions." And when had the thought of gentleness begun to inspire such scorn in him?
Ali leaned forward, close enough to rest his hand on Lawrence's knee. "There is no gentleness in love. It is fierce and overwhelming and gives no ground." He moved his hand further up Lawrence's thigh. "It is passionate and obsessive and possessive. There are arguments and disagreements enough that one might even confuse it with hate."
Lawrence was staring at him now, eyes wide and the muscles at his neck taut.
Ali's smile was barely there. "You look like a horse about to bolt. Am I that frightening to you?"
"Tempting," Lawrence muttered hoarsely.
Ali rose to his knees and shuffled forward. "Good," he whispered and his mouth closed on Lawrence's.
Later, as they lay twined together and breathing heavily in the aftermath of their exertion, Lawrence stroked Ali's hair. "That's not love you described. That's lust."
Ali closed his eyes and stretched. "You are wrong."