Jun. 13th, 2005 @ 09:01 am
Gawain raises his head and fixes Galahad with an intense expression. "I believe you, Galahad, by the gods, I believe you.
"But what do we do about her
?" he asks, waving his hand in the direction of the door.
"I don't know!" he snaps back, frowning and gritting his teeth. "Which her? The whore who decided she loves you because you slept with her once or the liar who's trying to break us apart?"
He turns and punches hard against the wall, more angry than anything else. "This is insane," he swears. "Gawain, what did we do to deserve this?"
"I don't know
," says Gawain. "I just..." He lets out an articulate growl of rage before taking a few deep breaths. He pours out two glasses of wine and holds one towards Galahad.
"We need to find out why they are doing this. Whose idea it is and what they can hope to gain."
Galahad swipes the wine and nods, taking it back in one go and slamming the glass down on a table. "Ridiculous," he snarls, "to even think I would stray after all the trouble I went through to get you back."
"Can we get Tristan to torture them?" he asks cruelly. "I'm sure he could do it."
Gawain laughs dryly. "I'm sure he could too. I wonder if he knows anything about this. He does seem to know a great deal about the most extraordinary things."
He shakes his head and reaches for Galahad. "Or Lancelot might know. He does pride himself in knowing the girls."
Galahad doesn't want niceties and comfort, not now when he's so very angry. He growls a little and straddles Gawain when he's reached for, leaning down and viciously kissing, a bruising kiss that will leave Gawain's lips slightly swollen when Galahad's done biting and sucking and kissing.
He rocks forward urgently. This isn't time to 'play nice'. This is time to remind Gawain what he has.
"No girl," he hisses in a low, threatening voice, "would ever beguile me as much as you." He buries one hand in Gawain's hair, clasping hard as he leans in for another long, hard kiss. "No girl," he continues, lips right on Gawain's ear, "will ever know how much I want you."
Gawain gasps against Galahad's cheek. He runs his hands up Galahad's thighs, digging his fingers into the skin there.
, then, Galahad," he growls. "Show me how much you want me."
His hands move higher, under Galahad's tunic and he takes hold of Galahad's length and starts to stroke, slowly and very firmly.
Galahad feels fierce now and unwilling to give any ground. He reaches down and strokes himself, his hands atop Gawain's before removing it and easing off to swiftly strip Gawain of all his clothes, tearing them off -- hearing the rip of some stitches, but he doesn't care -- and pushing Gawain down on the bed. He tugs at the hem of his own tunic, standing there naked before straddling Gawain once more, placing his fingers in his mouth and getting them properly coated before he reaches down and begins to prepare himself.
His free hand strokes at Gawain's chest, flicking his nipple and firm in its presence. He will not lose this. Not again.
With a sly and mischievous grin, he leans down and wraps his lips around Gawain's length, coating it well before easing off and adjusting so that he sits atop Gawain and Gawain is pushing into
He lets out an exhaled breath. "I do want you," he says back firmly and swiftly. "So very much."
Gawain can only groan hoarsely. "Gal
'had," he mutters, running his hands up to Galahad's waist so that he can clasp him. Gawain presses up, holding Galahad firmly. He moans and gazes up at Galahad with heavy-lidded eyes.
," he manages to force out. "Only.. you."
Galahad grins, biting his lip in concentration as he sobered and began a rhythm, pushing down and pushing Gawain further into him, rocking his hips forward to cause some friction and brushing his hand over Gawain's cock as he eases out and repeats the rhythm.
His free hand rests atop Gawain's on his thigh and he clasps there possessively. "She can't have
you," he growls, jealous. "You're mine."
"Yes," gasps Gawain. "And you..." he mutters between gulps of air, "...are mine."
His fingers knead into Galahad's thighs as he rocks his hips in time with Galahad. He is in no hurry whatsoever.
Galahad blinks to focus his vision because it's begun to scatter with all his thoughts and all the confusion in his mind. He rocks in time with Gawain, something they have practiced and mastered and it's perfect as it is.
"Roll," he whispers with a hiss. "Roll us."
Gawain laughs breathlessly. He clasps Galahad's hips tightly and rolls over, doing his utmost not to dislodge Galahad.
Now lying on top of Galahad, he pushes Galahad's legs up towards his chest and presses in deeper. "Mmm, Gal'had," he murmurs. "Better?"
Galahad nods swiftly, feeling and lingering in the sensation of Gawain buried in him, something so good, the rest of the world doesn't know what its missing.
"Okay," he whispers. "Good, yes. Rock," he demands, a little petulantly.
Gawain laughs a little more and nuzzles at Galahad's cheek. He does begin to rock, slowly, and deeply, keeping his eyes fastened on Galahad's face so that he can chart his emotions.