Mar. 9th, 2005 @ 07:34 pm
Galahad storms back towards his quarters, muttering under his breath about the inadequacy of the Romans. They're ready to leave tomorrow and his wounds only twinge with the barest hints of pain now. They don't seem to understand his instructions on upkeep for when he leaves and he hates dealing with all the details and plannings when he should be more focused on important matters.
He pushes into the quarters, cursing under his breath. "Bloody Romans," he swears, grasping clothes and getting his bundle ready to go for the ride back. He scratches at an itchy wound as he swears a little more, smiling in acknowledgment of Gawain before returning to digging out his clothes from crooks and crannies. "They don't know how to keep their heads on straight," Galahad complains, throwing a dirty tunic onto the cot. "Idiots," he sneers.
Gawain looks up with slight surprise. "What have
the Romans done to rile you now?" he asks lightly. His own pack, which is quite small in any case, has already been packed.
"I am glad to see you so much better, by the way," he comments. "Because you only complain so vocally when you're in good health."
"They're idiots!" Galahad exclaims loudly, throwing his hands in the air in supreme frustration. "I gave them simple instructions on setting up an infirmary, a stable, where to get the horses, and yet they still ask questions," he growls, finding all his clothes at last and shoving them into the pack he'd brought.
"I feel much better," Galahad stops for a moment and admits, running a hand through his hair as he surveys the nearly empty room. "You're surprisingly very nurturing when you have half a mind to be," he comments, picking up a few stray items and placing them on the table for the Romans to keep.
"Surprising, is it?" teases Gawain. "No, you have me completely wrong, Galahad. This whole time, it was just an ulterior motive. I wanted to get you better..." He pauses to smile mischievously. "... so that I could spend my days winding you up."
Galahad turns slightly, narrowing his eyes -- Tristan's joke from days ago lingering in mind -- and Galahad takes the opportunity to smack Gawain on the upper arm lightly. "Well, you're doing an impressive job of it," he mutters. "Good work, Gawain."
He shifts and stretches slightly, testing out his body's tolerance and smiles slightly when it causes only the slightest of pain. He shifts slightly. "Sadly, you're never going to beat out the Romans for being able to rile me. You'll always be second place to them."
"You wound me, Galahad, truly," says Gawain and he sits back and watches Galahad with quite some satisfaction. "You do
look better," he says sincerely. "I'm glad."
He reaches out and touches Galahad's hand lightly. "Prepared to return to the madhouse that is our apparent home from home?"
Galahad groans. "No," he gives a sigh. "But I suppose we have to." He brushes his thumb in small circles against Gawain's hand, slowly inching closer. "Can't we just..." he leans in and kisses Gawain slowly, taking his time to savour the feel and taste, eyes drifting shut, "...can't we run away?" he teases, the slightest note of hope lurking in his voice. "No more Tristan, no more Lancelot, no more snide comments."
He pushes himself fully horizontal and sprawls out atop Gawain, resting his head on Gawain's chest -- Gawain's breaths strangely comforting. "Couldn't you have told them I had to heal more?"
"I think we've stretched the truth as far as we can," murmurs Gawain, stroking Galahad's hair. "And we can't really run anywhere, can we?"
He shifts a little beneath Galahad. "But we have some time left here," he whispers, pressing his lips to the top of Galahad's head. "Perhaps we should.. ah... make use of the time we have?"
"Hm," he gives a pleased murmur. "Whatever could you have in mind, Gawain?" he lifts his head to pose the question as innocently as he can, eyes wide and eyelashes batting, voice swelled with honey and childish innocence. He slips his hand down Gawain's body and slips his fingers inside Gawain's breeches, loosening them as much as he can with just the one hand.
His blood is pumping faster and he recalls how long it's been, how long he's been wanting this. He closes his eyes and slips his hand further in, stroking lazily at Gawain -- urgency quickly appearing through the lethargy -- as he strokes faster and faster, tilting his head to bite and kiss at Gawain's neck.
Gawain moans softly. "Ah, Galahad!"
Gawain trails both hands slowly down Galahad's back as his hips rock up towards Galahad's touch. He finds that he is gasping for air already and he fiddles with the hem of Galahad's tunic, his fingers grazing the back of Galahad's thighs.
He shifts again so that he can begin to return Galahad's kisses although his coordination is slightly off as Galahad's rhythm increases.
Galahad keeps shifting slightly so none of the pain becomes too much for him. He pushes into every thrust of Gawain's, every rock of his hips pushing Galahad to stroke faster and move quicker as he lets out soft moans into Gawain's mouth. "Gawain," he mumbles into the kisses, voice breaking in desperation. He chokes back a sob of utter need and resolves to finish off Gawain first as he flicks his thumb over the head of Gawain's erection, running his free hand through Gawain's hair.
Their kisses turn sloppy and clumsy as Galahad focuses on simply bringing Gawain off and his mind clouds over with desire. "Gawain," he pants, mouth firmly fixed to Gawain's jaw.
Gawain's groans become louder and Galahad's desperation seems to be contagious because all Gawain can focus on is Galahad's hand and Galahad's mouth. Gawain's hands move up under Galahad's tunic to clasp Galahad's arse as his thrusts into Galahad's hand become more frenzied.
"Gal'had.. can't..." he attempts to speak but bites down on his own lip as he arches upwards a final time, pressing up against Galahad and letting out a muffled moan.
Galahad bites back his grin as he strokes Gawain a few more times, fingers splayed and relaxed as he finds Gawain's lips and kisses him slowly -- breath ragged in an excited manner -- and he gives a slow moan into Gawain's mouth, letting the vibration carry as he thrusts back a little into Gawain's hands, his own erection growing harder and harder.
"That's..." Galahad pants, "the start. It's been a long
time," he says hoarsely, grasping Gawain by the hair and pulling him up for a more intense kiss.
Gawain returns the kiss eagerly, if breathlessly. "It really has," he replies, gasping for air. He concentrates on kissing Galahad for a few moments, as his heart rate evens out and breathing becomes slightly easier. "Too long," he murmurs against Galahad's mouth, drawing his tongue along Galahad's lower lip.
He slips one of his hands between there bodies, underneath Galahad's fine tunic, and squeezes Galahad lightly before he begins to stroke, very slowly. "We had best investigate," he mumbles into Galahad's ear. "Have to make sure you've made a full recovery."
Galahad lets out a sharp gasp, his eyes fluttering shut as Gawain strokes him much
too slowly. "Oh, please," he murmurs swiftly, "please do explore!" he urges, hips pushing down at the touch of Gawain's hand on him. A moan escapes his lips at the feel of Gawain's hand -- warm, calloused, there
-- and opens his eyes to look at Gawain, grasping his hair with both hands and pulling him in for another swift kiss.
He moans once more, almost unable to stop. "Be...gentle," he gasps.
"Of course," murmurs Gawain. Carefully, he moves so that they change positions; Galahad is now on his back and Gawain is above him. He continues to stroke, harder now, but he is mumbling into Galahad's ear all the while and pressing occasionally gentle kisses to his face.
Galahad breathes shakily, always trying to breathe a little more so he can kiss Gawain almost endlessly it seems, pressing their lips together hard
, the moans and whispers and whimpers always cushioned by Gawain's lips. He fumbles to free one hand from his grip on Gawain's hair and grasps the hem of his tunic, shoving it up and letting the material bunch around his hips.
"In," Galahad demands petulantly. "In me."
Gawain laughs breathlessly against Galahad's ear. "You're a demanding bastard, you know that?" he says as his hand strays down to the fastenings of his trousers. "Trouble is," he whispers before he kisses Galahad soundly, "Trouble is, I can't refuse you."
Gawain parts Galahad's legs and he is almost shaking with the anticipation of the act. He looks around for something to act as lubrication as his fingers skate up and down the insides of Galahad's thighs.
Galahad gives a pleased murmur at the feel of Gawain's hands inside his thighs. He grins and pushes one hand firmly behind Gawain's ear, grasping at strands of hair. "I wouldn't ask if I didn't know you'd say yes," he says mischievously, biting down on his grin. "Unfortunately, when it comes to you, I'm rather helpless to say no...unfortunately," he mocks, tiny bumps arising on his arm as he shivers at the sensation of Gawain's fingers.
"I could be more demanding," Galahad whispers. "Pleading. Begging. Demanding much more."
Gawain's heart pounds at Galahad's words and he hurriedly prepares Galahad and himself, fumbling slightly in his haste and his desire not to hurt Galahad.
"I quite like it when you make such demands," Gawain says as he settles between Galahad's legs and positions himself. "Tell me if I hurt you," he whispers, suddenly concerned.
He strokes Galahad's hips gently and gazes at his face, at last unafraid of what he sees in Galahad's eyes.
Galahad bites down on his lips, hissing when Gawain's hands brush lightly over a wound. "No, don't stop," Galahad quickly says, reaching down and interlacing Gawain's fingers with his own. "Simply..." he runs the hands up to his shoulders where his skin has been relatively left alone. "Hold here," he instructs, spreading his legs a little further.
He takes a deep breath and tilts his head back, shifting forward. "Please," he pleads quietly. "Please Gawain, I've missed you. Please?" he whispers, thumbs stroking in small circles on Gawain's palm.
"I've been here all along," murmurs Gawain and, clutching Galahad's shoulders, he presses against him, entering Galahad with a hoarse groan. Once inside the other knight, he looks down at him, almost for reassurance before he begins to thrust leisurely, murmuring Galahad's name as he does so.
Galahad gasps, his breath stolen from him as Gawain thrusts inside of him. He breathes hard and hates to do it, but it's beginning to hurt. "Slower," he gasps, hips thrusting up instinctively against Gawain's thrusts. He gives a quiet moan as Gawain hits a particularly responsive spot and his hands clasp Gawain's hips hard, something to hold onto.
His breaths turn shallow now as his head falls back against the cot and he murmurs Gawain's name over and over again, as though his mind had been stripped of all other thoughts. "You're s-so...good," Galahad moans, when Gawain hits yet another spot that makes his world lose sense and words.
Gawain is responsive to any slight change in Galahad's expression although he is gasping with the effort. His hair hangs down as he studies Galahad's face. Gawain's eyes flutter closed and he kisses Galahad hungrily and reaches down to stroke him.
"Do... love... you..." he manages to mumble before he groans as a sense of urgency fills him and he has to fight to restrain himself.
Galahad's moans turn louder and sharper, though still filled with bliss. He reaches to tug Gawain back down into a kiss, straining to sit up to meet him halfway as Gawain strokes him and Galahad feels his climax approaching. "Gawain," he gasps and pants, biting down hard on his lip as it all becomes too much, Gawain's fingers on him, Gawain in
He nips at Gawain's lower lip before pulling away, hitting the cot with a small bit of force as his back arches and he climaxes with a broken cry of pleasure in the air, Gawain's name mangled by his lips as he cries loudly, the feeling ripping through him almost too intensely. "Gawain," he murmurs, his words sticking together. "I love y'too."
The sensation of Galahad tightening around him together with Galahad's words prove to be Gawain's undoing and he climaxes, groaning loudly. He collapses on top of Galahad before swearing as he rolls off him, worried that he may have hurt Galahad.
"Gal'had," he mumbles. "C'm'ere."
Galahad groans lazily, sated, as he tries to will himself to move. He shifts slightly, blindly groping for Gawain's body and wrapping his arms around Gawain's waist, burrowing into his chest and breathing heavily, his body sticky, but not quite sweaty. He shifts until his head is resting atop Gawain's chest, listening to him breath.
"M'here," his words slur together slightly as his eyes stay half-lidded. He gives a pleased murmur. "You were good. Improved, even."
Gawain snorts with exhausted amusement. "Improved? You cheeky bastard."
He wraps his arms around Galahad and kisses the top of his head. "You were as I remember. I missed this, you know." His hands pass lightly up and down Galahad's back. "Glad y'r here."
"It was a compliment," Galahad mutters defensively, sighing contentedly, shifting until he finds a position where it doesn't hurt as much. He leans into Gawain's touch, a pleased vibration in his throat at the feel of Gawain's hands up and down his back. "I said it because you were better, like you missed me," Galahad comments cheekily. He yawns and lets his eyes fall further shut.
"We have to go back," he whispers. "Back to the harsh words and the foul looks and sneaking into your quarters at night." He sighs. "Just like always," he murmurs to himself before he falls into a sated nap, pleased with Gawain's warmth so close.
Gawain feels an unwelcome wrench in his gut at Galahad's words and their implication but he decides to ignore it for this brief period of peace and he holds Galahad until he falls asleep himself.