Mar. 21st, 2005 @ 03:00 pm
Galahad is sure that most people would regard returning to the fortress as returning to home. He sees it as more of being transferred from one prison to the next. The ride has been quiet, he's winced with the pain of his wounds and he's managed to make it with great thanks to Gawain's constant help. He honestly doesn't quite know what he would do without him. He dismounts before they arrive inside the fields, guiding his horse inside slowly, almost dreading having to see the others.
He glances over his shoulder to Gawain, almost a default reaction now. "What do you suppose will happen now that we've returned?" Galahad comments idly, recalling Arthur's words to pretend that they had never spoken of their current status. "Do you suppose it will be as it always was?"
"It won't be the same for us, I suppose," replies Gawain cautiously. "And we can but hope that the others heed Arthur's words and ignore... anything... that might otherwise provoke them to speak. I suppose we shall have to be careful, Galahad."
He leads his horse towards the stables, uncomfortably aware that Romans and locals alike are watching their arrival. Gawain suspects that the other knights will be at hand to welcome them and his suspicion is confirmed when they round the corner and the knights are waiting, with no lesser personage than Arthur himself.
Galahad pauses as he rounds the corner and exhales slowly when the others advance to greet them, Jols hurrying to grab the horse by the reins and lead his horse off. "Welcome back, Galahad. I hope you've recovered." Galahad nods his thanks as he takes a step back, feeling quite isolated without his pack, his horse, or anything to do but wring his hands and offer a nervous smile.
"The village is on its' way," he reports to Arthur, clearing his throat. "I've uh, I've healed to what I suppose is to a satisfactory degree," he continues, steadfastly avoiding looking Gawain in the eye or drifting towards him, for fear of mockery.
Gawain stands his ground too although he makes no apologies, spoken or unspoken, about watching Galahad carefully.
Arthur nods once, with satisfaction, and Gawain notes that he is in no hurry to meet his or Galahad's eyes. "Very good, Galahad. There has been a feast prepared for your homecoming and safe return."
Galahad frowns, not expecting this at all. "A...feast?" he stumbles, more than a little confused. "I don't understand," he comments. "You've prepared a feast? For me? Why?" he remarks, with blunt confusion. He turns to Gawain, hating that no one is so much as looking at him. He gives a frustrated sigh to mask his angry growl and shakes his head. "Well, fine," he mutters. "Suppose I'll just go indulge," he sneers.
"Arthur, please excuse me," he nods to their commander and storms out of the stables, furious with the situation and how he's being treated, like a misbehaving child to be ignored, yet spoiled. He only glances back once, simply to check if Gawain has stayed to explain Galahad's actions.
Galahad is torn between wanting to follow Galahad immediately and staying to explain him. He does realise that it's best that he stay, for a moment at least.
"I daresay he's tired from the journey. He is
still healing, you must understand, although he was well enough to travel."
Gawain watches the spot where Galahad disappeared from view but realises that now they're back at the garrison, he should wait to be dismissed by Arthur before he follows Galahad.
Arthur raises an eyebrow, ready to say something else, but decides it might not be just for the moment. "We should join the feast," Arthur says as lightly as he can, "else Galahad might eat all our food before we have the chance." No one laughs and the others are still silent, as though no one can come up with the right thing to say.
"Gawain, you're free to go wherever you wish," Arthur adds hastily as he departs.
He quickly approaches the tavern, finding Galahad poking idly at the food on his plate, not even eating the smallest bite. "Galahad," Arthur calls out to him, gaining his attention as he sits beside him. "How are you feeling?"
"Like I want to sleep," Galahad mutters in reply, still poking at his food.
Gawain finds his way to the tavern, having deposited his and Galahad's belongings in Galahad's quarters. He opts against actually saying this to Galahad.
He sits down opposite Galahad and Arthur and they are soon joined by Tristan. Gawain is too hungry to pay much attention to any conversation that might be taking place and he just digs into his food as though he hasn't eaten in days.
"Was the journey back difficult?" Arthur asks, sounding sympathetic and Galahad cringes inwardly. "I'm sure two days in your current state must have..."
"I'm fine," he says, almost snapping, poking at the food with a sigh. "I simply expected to be treated slightly differently upon return," he comments evenly. "I didn't realize forget and ignore were the same things," he slouches, crossing his arms.
"Are you still upset about that, pup?" Tristan scoffs. "We don't care. It's just awkward and messy. Speaking of, you might want to simply move quarters. You haven't cleaned yours in ages, recovering in there won't do you much good."
"Don't you think it would be better to return to normality, Tristan, no?" asks Gawain mildly, having assuaged the worst of his hunger. "I can't see how changing chambers would help."
He meets Galahad's eyes briefly before looking expectantly at Tristan.
Galahad holds Gawain's gaze until he looks away and Galahad pokes at the food a bit more, finally indulging in eating a little bit. "So it's dirty," Galahad shrugs idly. "I'll learn to live with it again."
"Forgive me, Galahad, but..." Tristan starts, an amused smirk on his face. "Gawain's been in the same quarters as you. Do you really need the added stress of having to tidy and clean when you're still in such a feeble state?"
"I am not
feeble," Galahad growls, eyes wide with fury.
"Fine, but I simply remind you. You're going to be alone again. Why have the additional burden?"
"Tristan, would you please stop digging at him for just one second?" asks Gawain, somewhat exasperated. "He is not feeble and neither is he alone."
Tristan turns to look at Gawain in confusion and Galahad does the same, frowning and furrowing his brow, trying to decipher exactly what Gawain has so concisely said. "Gawain, are you not telling me something?" Galahad clears his throat, still confused. "Because when last I checked, Tristan wasn't wrong. He was extremely annoying and a bastard, but not wrong," Galahad sneers, getting a dig in.
He stands abruptly, feeling the sudden need to go back to his quarters. "Arthur, thank you for the feast and the welcome. I only wish I could stay longer, but I feel I should rest," he explains, smiling tightly as he immediately heads off towards his quarters, almost nervous for what he will find.
Gawain finishes his ale at a leisurely pace, speaking to Arthut about goings-on at the garrison during his absence and notably not addressing Tristan. He thinks that he has given Galahad enough of a headstart back to his chambers and wonders idly, as he strolls from the tavern, whether Galahad has figured out what Gawain intends.
Galahad has yet to move past the doorway, stepping just two steps inside and freezing, frowning as he regards the very notable presence of not only his pack, but Gawain's as well -- something that has never happened before. Gawain has always put his own things back in his own quarters.
"Gawain?" Galahad turns when he hears the footsteps and sees Gawain enters his chambers. "I don't...you're...your things are in my quarters," he points, feeling a little out of place. "I don't understand, what are you doing? Are you going to take care of me like you did before and spend the days here? I don't..." he shakes his head, confused to the core. "I don't understand your intentions."
"You don't... my intentions
?" Gawain's lips quirk into a smile. "I am not suggesting that Tristan is in any way right because I don't believe that you are feeble but..." He shrugs and distractedly runs a hand through his hair. "I hoped that you wouldn't mind if I was to stay with you for a while. Just to be sure that your recovery continues and perhaps to make settling back in a bit easier."
Gawain takes a deep breath. "Obviously, I'd understand if you wish to do this alone but..." He trails off.
"Stay with me?" Galahad echoes, still a little shocked by all this. He pushes past Gawain to close the door and to give them a little bit of privacy. He clears his throat and takes Gawain's hand from out of his hair. "Stop being nervous," Galahad demands. "You make me nervous too," he confesses.
He pulls Gawain to the bed and gently pushes him down onto it, letting him sit as he stands above him. "Of course I want your help," Galahad nods. "Of course I want you with me." He gazes down to the floor, clearing his throat. "I don't want to be alone," he mumbles, his words not quite more than a quiet admittance.
"There's no need, no reason, to be alone," says Gawain softly and he reaches out and places his hands on Galahad's hips, drawing him closer that that he comes to stand between Gawain's legs.
He looks up at Galahad's face and smiles, suddenly not nervous anymore.
Galahad smiles back, ducking his head down when he finds that he's slightly anxious and eager about this. "You do recall what I'm like, though?" Galahad asks hesitantly, making sure Gawain remembers what he's getting into. "Messy and clingy at night and noisy, always dashing about stubbornly against your wishes," he finishes weakly. "You recall, right?"
He doesn't want to spend another moment with the distance between them so he shifts, knees on his cot as he maneuvers himself until he's straddling Gawain and sitting back on his thighs. "Don't think you need to do this because I'm some invalid," Galahad warns.
"Oh, I know that you are more than capable of looking after yourself," says Gawain and he wraps his arms around Galahad's waist, more than happy to see the space between them disappear.
"Yes, you are messy and noisy and I've known you shout in your sleep but I'm more than willing to put up with you, Galahad."
Galahad grins, leaning in and pressing his forehead to Gawain's, hands wrapped in Gawain's hair as he lets out a sputter of a laugh, realizing what's just happened. He closes his eyes and shakes his head. "You're going to live with me then," Galahad says plainly. "In my chambers, you'll be living with me."
He eases off slightly, pointing warningly at Gawain. "Don't dare think you're going to be in the spare cot. If you're doing this, you'll be where I can have easy access to you."
"Easy access? You cheeky bastard. What makes you think I'd settle for the spare cot?" asks Gawain teasingly. He runs his hands up Galahad's back and buries them in Galahad's curls.
"Kiss me," he demands.
"Now who's demanding," Galahad murmurs wondrously and light, leaning in even as he speaks to kiss Gawain hard, shifting until his hips are pressed up against Gawain's and he pushes him down onto the cot. He nips at Gawain's lower lip as he eases off slightly to draw breath. "You'll have to fight me for the covers," Galahad tells him mischievously, his eyes glinting with a spark of impishness. "And for the space," he grins, leaning in to kiss Gawain again.
"Mmpfh," he mumbles, trying to speak into Gawain's mouth. He pulls away just enough. "My turn to demand. Can I?" he wheedles and whines.
"I can fight," says Gawain. "For covers and space; makes a nice change to the sort of fighting we regularly do."
He is then engaged in kissing Galahad and trying to make sense of his mumbled words. "You want...?" he asks. He wriggles slightly under Galahad and then grins. "Demand away."
Galahad grins widely, beaming down at Gawain as he sneaks his fingers into the waistband of Gawain's breeches, leaning down until their chests press together. "You know," he starts casually. "I am
rather healed, despite what the others think," he continues with the same grin on his face, blinking it away until he appears completely innocent.
"I'd hate for you to go your first night in your new chambers without celebrating them properly, breaking them in, perhaps," Galahad rocks up against Gawain slowly as he speaks, the fabric of his tunic bunching at the hip with the movement.
Gawain moves his hands down to Galahad's hips, helping the tunic in its upward movement.
"You're too thoughtful," he gasps as Galahad rocks against him and his hands move inwards, caressing the base of Galahad's spine and lower.
"Thought has nothing
," Galahad exhales the words out as he tilts his head back to the ceiling, "nothing to do with this," he grins, lips curling upwards and lighting up his whole face as he pushes down lower on Gawain until they're horizontal upon the cot. Galahad grasps Gawain's shirt with one hand, material bunching within his fist as he shifts that hand down to the hem and fights to push it up, bowing his head forward and biting in the middle of Gawain's torso, leaving a mark.
He rests his chin on Gawain's chest, grinning with a predatory glint to his smile. "Fight me," he urges. "C'mon," he whispers, straddling Gawain now, his other hand clutching Gawain's hip.
Gawain gasps as Galahad bites him and he meets Galahad's eyes. A very slow smile crosses his face.
"I am stronger than you," warns Gawain. "And whatever you say, you are still healing."
He runs his hands down Galahad's arms and pins Galahad's wrists to his sides. "You want me to fight you?" he whispers against Galahad's lips before bestowing a crushing kiss on his mouth.
Galahad pushes back hard against the kiss, waiting a few seconds before nudging his knee in between Gawain's thighs, constantly rubbing at his crotch and using the opportunity to pry one hand loose and grasp Gawain hard by the hair, slipping and shoving his tongue into Gawain's mouth as he forcibly tilts Gawain's head to the side, moaning softly at the feel of Gawain's mouth so hot for his tongue to explore.
He parts, his mouth nibbling across Gawain's jaw, sinking lower to suck and bite at Gawain's neck. "Fight me," he gasps out, kissing hard at Gawain's shoulder, "for the right...to be on top."
Gawain writhes under Galahad's attentions, hissing as Galahad bites his neck. He puts his hands on Galahad's hips, pushing up the tunic even more.
"You really do ask for it, Galahad," he mutters into Galahad's ear. His hands clamp around Galahad's hip. "And you had better hope that you are healed."
He kisses Galahad hard and slides one hand down the back of Galahad's leg. Tugging at the leg, he dislodges Galahad onto his side and quickly rolls over on top of him. He bites at Galahad's jaw. "You still want to be on top?"
Galahad gives a predatory grin when Gawain gives in to his wishes. He tilts and stretches his neck to let Gawain bite his way across, breathing a little heavier. "Oh, I'm far more than healed," he promises. He widens his eyes slightly, appearing innocent. He lowers his hands, shoving them inside Gawain's breeches and grasping his length with both hands, thumbs rubbing in rough circles around the tip of his cock. Galahad grins with a little more play.
"Still want to be on top," Galahad confirms, removing one hand from Gawain's breeches and grasping long threads of hair, turning Gawain's head to the side and licking up Gawain's neck, pushing his tongue into Gawain's ear and blowing slightly, his hips thrusting upwards against Gawain and using the momentum to roll atop him, rocking up against Gawain still, kissing him hard on the lips, biting at Gawain's lower lip.
Gawain laughs breathlessly. "Cheeky... little.. bastard..." he gasps, moaning slightly into Galahad's mouth.
He wraps an arm around Galahad's neck and kisses him savagely. "Why.. do.. I put up with you?" he asks in a rush. His hand snakes down and he starts to stroke Galahad, hard and fast.
Galahad beams triumphantly, reaching over Gawain's head for the small vial on the table, sending a few objects crashing to the ground. "Because you love me," he taunts with a smug grin, grasping the oil in his hand and kissing Gawain again, trailing his teeth down Gawain's neck. He continues sinking lower and lower until his chin rests atop Gawain's hips, hands slick and sliding into Gawain slowly, both pushing in. He spreads his fingers and grins mischievously.
"B'sides," he murmurs lazily. "I went four weeks without sleeping with a single whore. I want my reward."
He eases off, sitting lower at Gawain's ankles as he strokes himself, covering his erection with the remaining oil.
Gawain's not sure he's capable of actual speech now but he'll try. "Hope you're not c'mparing me to a whore," he manages and he writhes beneath Galahad. "C'm on," he mutters, his eyes on Galahad's erection. "Just take me."
A moan escapes Galahad's lips, almost tearing through him when Gawain begs him
. He gasps slightly as he nearly pounces forward, spreading Gawain's thighs and lifting them, draping his ankles over Galahad's shoulders as he pushes in without any hesitation, any waiting.
"G-Gawain," he stutters, closing his eyes at the heat and at the feeling. It's been months
since he's felt this heat. "Oh," he exhales weakly, thrusting in, clutching at Gawain's hips tightly, his nails digging into Gawain's skin, not even caring that he's left the breeches tangled around Gawain's knees.
Gawain lets out a strangled moan and reaches up to grip Galahad's shoulders. He pushes back against Galahad and presses his head against the matress beneath him.
Gawain is entirely unable to speak now; wordless groans are about all he's capable of. It has been far too long since he's experienced this. He relinquishes his hold on Galahad only to start stroking himself.
Galahad snarls possessively, one hand fumbling along the way to stroke Gawain for him, hand withdrawing as he pulled out slightly, stroking hard as Galahad thrust deep. He let out a gasp, a soundless cry as he bowed his head forward, biting hard on his lip as he climaxed with a shake, hand stroking Gawain hard.
He inhales hard, nostrils shivering with each pull of air. "You're...so hot," he gasps out in awe, thrusting lazily still.
Gawain arches towards Galahad, unable to hold off his release any longer. He climaxes with a hoarse groan and reaches up to pull Galahad close to him.
"Gal.. Galahad," he mumbles. "Love.."
Galahad clumsily wipes the sweat from his brow, pulling out and collapsing atop Gawain, allowing himself to be tugged into his arms. He exhales lazily and slowly, smiling with a secret as he bites his lip and rests his head on Gawain's sticky chest.
"Love you too," he mumbles into Gawain's chest, pressing kisses there. He grins. "I won," he whispers mischievously, nipping at Gawain's collarbone.
Gawain laughs quietly. "Cheeky bastard," he whispers back. "Will you ever let me forget this?"
He wraps his arms around Galahad and rubs his back, holding him close.
Galahad grins, turning until his face is pressed horizontally against Gawain's chest. "Not if you're good to me," he offers with a cocky grin, nudging one knee in between Gawain's legs and getting comfortable.
"Sleep," Galahad orders. "Long day and you need to have a good impression of your new chambers when you awake."