Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

The Tristan Effect	By : pharaohskitty Category: G through L > King Arthur Views: 4357 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own King Arthur, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 7
- 8
The Tristan Effect, Soothing Tristan, Part 4, NC17

Title: The Tristan Effect
Soothing Tristan, part 4
Author & email: pharaohs_kitty@yahoo. com
Type (slash/het/gen): slash
Pairing: Tristan/Lancelot/Gawain
Rating: NC17, as usual, sooner or later
Summary: The Woads are coming! The Woads are coming! Gawain and Tristan are running for home. Lancelot returns to the fortress with his Red Knight in tow.
Archive: Feel free and if you can do better with this idea, help yourself.
Disclaimer: Characters and settings do NOT belong to me but the original owners.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Due to the large number of OTHER ORIGINAL CHARACTERS, this story now technically qualifies as an ALTERNATE UNIVERSE fic. LOL... however, still in the movieverse as far as I'm concerned. Just happened prior to it. Don't worry, our boys still end up with each other... not any of the OCs. They're just useful instruments for revealing Tristan's past and providing serious dilemmas for Gawain and Lancelot.

-----Arthur

The patrol was overdue. They should have ridden back in last night. Perhaps it was only a minor skirmish that kept them. Perhaps it was another bull stuck in some wallow that needed pulling out. Whatever the delay, Arthur would not stop praying for their safety until he saw their faces whole and healthy before him. Perhaps it was but habit that he prayed a bit harder for Lancelot's safety than the others. Perhaps it was something he should ask penance for.

Dagonet pressed a hot mug of mulled wine into his hand as they kept watch from the guard tower. The villagers already began their day's chores among the swirls of light fog. It was planting season and the true warmth of the year would be here soon enough to wake the seeds in their sleepy beds. Arthur, grateful and somewhat charmed by the casual care that Dagonet had taken to showering on him, murmured a dazed thanks and sipped at the cup cautiously.

He caught Dagonet's eye and laughed. "I bruised my lip among your teeth, you fiend."

Dagonet smirked and dropped his gaze to his feet. "Your teeth do a lot more damage, Arthur, and well you know it."

Arthur's stomach dropped. Had he been so vicious then?

Dagonet brushed closer as if to examine the view beyond the wall somewhat more minutely before whispering in Arthur's ear, "Every time I wince from your bite I become hard thinking of what we do. I will rue the day you seek another bed than mine."

"Why?"

Dagonet huskily laughed and murmured nearer to Arthur's ear, "I've never had a lover before that could match me passion for passion and last every bit as long as I do. I've never had someone make me so breathless before that I could only lie upon my lover and seek desperately for air to stop the spinning in my head."

A ridiculous amount of pride straightened Arthur's spine. He'd done this to Dagonet? How soon would night fall again? He locked eyes with Dagonet and smiled bashfully. Arthur had no trouble admitting that he wanted more of this noble man's company. If they kept this up, the missed opportunity with Lancelot would be nothing more than a wisp of dream.

"My Lord Arthur!"

A sentry pointed to the far road where the fog swirled, a sure sign of the passage of someone in large company.

-----Lancelot

"Hold up!" Lancelot gave the signals to pull over and leaning down, snatched the bridle of his Red Knight's warhorse before she could realize what he was about. Miffed, Elaynt snarled a veritable inventory of epithets at his head before they came to a stop.

Lancelot dismounted and speedily wrapped the reins of both their steeds about a solid tree by the simple expedient of ripping them from her hand. Thankfully, the woman was content to verbally abuse him and didn't seek to put blade in hand. He'd lose if she did and they both knew it.

"Please, Lady, down?" Lancelot put a world of entreaty into his eyes, making them seem as innocent and unthreatening as possible.

She huffed, but dropped to the ground with the same grace as Tristan and it was no mystery to him as to who'd taught her all the skills of a warrior. Whatever teacher Tristan had suffered while he was in these people's care had obviously schooled her as well. Possibly at the same time.

"Walk with me a bit?"

She glared at him and crossed her arms.

"I thought not. Then we must decide how to approach the Fortress. As it is now, if we ride in as we are... Arthur may put arrows through all of us. You outnumber us two to one and it looks as if we're under your hand."

"Then I and mine will wait back until you summon us in."

"I'd rather not wait to bring your warriors into the Fortress. No telling how many advance parties these Woads have out. The longer they cannot count the number within the Fortress, the better. I want you to come in with us NOW."

"What do you propose then?"

"You, the Red Knight, are the symbol of a great enemy to us."

"I know it. Tristan told the watcher of it some years ago."

"The watcher?"

"You don't think my brother let his precious beloved brother in blood return without some guard set do you? He demands regular reports of Tristan's health and well-being. Sometimes I think he sends more intimate details to Tristan by the watcher than he'd ever discuss with his kin. And I do not doubt Tristan is the same. They spent a great many days trading tales. I used to sit at their feet before the fire and listen to them question each other. Tristan used to stretch out his body and mine with movement while my brother watched over us. He tells me that Tristan gave me back my life. And he did. I did not speak before Tristan spoke to me. I do not remember the time between my beating and when he told me it was time to live again."

Lancelot looked at her with something flickering in his eyes that was not pity, but realization that the terrible horror perpetrated on Tristan, a warrior grown and strong at that, had been visited on her when she'd still been a child.

"I like Tristan's stripes. When we go swimming in the dark, they make him look a Tyger such as the Romans once used in their games."

She smiled hesitantly. "I've never shown any other my own since Tristan left."

"You let no one touch you either, Lady?" Lancelot already knew it for truth, but made it a question to be polite.

She shook her head with definition.

Lancelot sighed. This position he'd ended in seemed fraught with problems. How to get past her distaste of being close to someone? Especially when he didn't really want her now? The red hair was delightful and the ferocity exciting for a change, but he still preferred a softer woman than this when he actually wanted one. Right this moment, his heart's desire was completely focused on two aggravating males who were doubtless miles away.

"I want you to remain helmed but to ride pillion behind me. I want Arthur to see my hands free and clear but you to be clearly subject to me. I would put you before me, but I want to be able to fight if we're attacked and this way you will be able to as well." Lancelot was firm as he looked her in the eye. "You will touch me, not I to touch you. It will be well..." This last was said coaxingly as he saw the doubt in her eye.

Lancelot strode back to the restless mounts and swung himself up quickly upon loosing them. He put out a hand to help her up and waited. It seemed an endless loop of time as she simply gawked at him and did not move.

"MY Red Knight, will you not do me the honor of joining me?"

She bit her lip and grabbed his arm as she gracefully plopped behind him. Seated sideways behind him, she had no say in the direction of travel but had to submit herself to his decisions. Lancelot snagged the reins of her steed and moved off. The warmth behind him was actually welcome in the chill of early morning. A full day had passed and changed much of his life.

Lancelot wondered rather faintly what the next full day would bring.

-----Galahad

Lancelot rode in the gate with a company of strangers, the Red Knight he'd so despised but days before perched behind him like some captive woman. There were swords aplenty among these people and they looked much alike, as if they were all born of the same parents. Grey eyes and blue, brown hair and darker brown hair. They were not a tall people and looked like a band of boy children with the borrowed weapons of their parents.

When they doffed their helms on dismounting and sought out water skins, Galahad realized that few of them were much older than himself and those few were very old indeed. They were a band of hale young men but not of any great age and experience. Galahad rolled his eyes heavenward with an epithet. Just what he needed. They would undoubtedly hoard the attention of the womenfolks for days. New faces that didn't know yet just who and what to watch out for... The Romans would fleece them of their money and the women would skin them out of their clothing.

Sighing fatalistically, Galahad stepped forward even as Lancelot began presenting his "guest" to Arthur, whose face was set in false polite interest. It wasn't until their guest, still standing back from the tense little group of Lancelot, Arthur, Dagonet and some few of the more ranking Roman officers, doffed the red-plumed helm that Arthur's face exhibited truer shock. Galahad looked appreciatively at the trim figure and the red hair, the sharp boned features and the eyes.... he found himself following her every move with intensity.

-----Gawain

Gawain stared up at Tristan in surprise. He wanted to go through the river gate in broad daylight? With the Woad scouts still on duty? Had he gone mad? Yes, that was it. The whole explanation for this last week of odd behavior. Tristan had fallen to the moon's influence and all the crazy things he'd done and said weren't really him. Gawain almost breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't meant what he'd said to Lancelot then. It was just the madness speaking. He snapped in a deep breath as he then reviewed the fact that Tristan wanted to go through the river gate of Corstopic in broad daylight.

"We'll get killed." As ever matter of fact, Gawain put his objection out there.

"Have I ever let you get killed? Any of you?" Tristan looked down from his high perch in the tree at the broad face openly suspicious and narrowed blue eyes that were evaluating his mental condition. He ghosted a smile as he looked away. Gawain was so open and easy to read. He wore every thought on his face. "It's always Arthur or Lancelot who makes those decisions... taking on impossible odds for whatever reason they deem necessary. NOT ME. I want to live. Preferably without any holes in odd places. So trust me. I say it's possible. They're not watching for Romans to go north through the gate. They're looking for the survivors of the attack that were too wounded to flee with the others."

Tristan clambered down from his observation perch and faced Gawain eye to eye. "But on the other side... it will be fighting all the way until we come to the territory of the Witch." He lifted a hand to the face he loved so and smoothed a hesitant thumb over Gawain's cheekbone, feeling the minute tremor as Gawain forced himself not to pull away. "We have to get to Arthur and give him the details. We've counted long enough and seen enough. We must get to the fort before the Alan as well. I don't want them shot for Woads when they try to approach." He paused and bit his lower lip. "I should have left you with them. I should have had you escort them back - to be the messenger for them. It was the original plan."

"Once I knew where you intended to go, I would not have remained behind," and in his head, Gawain added, 'no matter how great my anger'.

It was then that Gawain knew his heart was a field littered by the bones of the love he'd had a week ago. He didn't know this man, this abruptly changed stranger. The words Tristan had spoken when Lancelot had been upon the field with the girl rang in his head. **'Lancelot, I swear that if you die... there will be no one for Gawain.'** Deeper still was the resounding phrase, **'...this is all I have for you, Gawain. Nothing more than this.'** Suddenly he wondered many things.

Was Lancelot what kept Tristan here?

"Then I should have just left while you slept."

Gawain looked Tristan in the eye and wondered if he truly thought Gawain wouldn't have followed him. But then Tristan had fallen under the influence of the moon. He pulled away and busied himself with tightening the straps on his gear. They'd need every extra weapon and extra bite of food he'd tucked away into his things.

With his back turned he never saw Tristan's swift prayer to the sky that soundlessly repeated his name a dozen times or more.
-----Lancelot

The girl was sketching a map of the land lying around the fortress on parchment with ink. Carefully labeled were all the fortifications and noted down the side were all the liabilities of their position. She laid out their situation and then started in on possible plans with a perfunctory lack of tact that took no note of the Roman commander and his seconds. Lancelot hid a smile by leaning down over the amazingly detailed map.

Dagonet had no such qualms. He simply grinned at the girl's audacity in presuming to know their own territory better than they. He set a calming hand on Arthur's shoulder and pointed out, "All good points, good ideas. Between you both, perhaps we will be ready for the bastards when they arrive here."

Lancelot noted the hand restraining Arthur with a little astonishment. So the wind swung the sails that way did it? His amazement only deepened as the hand slipped down off Arthur's shoulder with a gentle touch sliding down Arthur's back. How had he missed this? A pointed voice in his head that sounded much like his mother reminded him that of late, he'd been too busy noticing Tristan and then Gawain. His friend, his brother in blood spilled and grief shared, the one man he trusted to have honour had been shunted aside while he'd been warming up a cold hearted Tyger.

Arthur set a number of pages running with orders and requests then turned to Lancelot with a raised eyebrow.

Lancelot shrugged, "Apparently her brother, her people... they hold Tristan in some esteem. They watch for him."

Arthur muttered something that sounded like 'spies' but subsided at Lancelot's hard look. They could discuss it later. When the girl wasn't there to be offended. They needed her. They needed her men. They needed the blade that Arthur had yet to see. Lancelot grinned. HE had not one iota of intent to warn Arthur. He was just going to urge the man (who never, ever, ever lost... except to Tristan) into the practice ring with the girl. Lancelot couldn't wait. Tomorrow morning could not come soon enough.

And after Arthur... he could convince Galahad to go a round with her. Lancelot snickered in anticipation.

"What was that for?"

"Just thinking about surprises and the people who will experience them. Tristan has a few more tucked away into his surcoat, I do not doubt. I, myself, do not know what he has planned."

"Tristan doesn't plan. He gives you options. We have to do the planning." With that sage insight into Lancelot's lover Arthur nodded vaguely, already his mind was half flown with ideas that had begun to build inside of him like castles made of sand upon the beach.

When Arthur found an arrangement that suited him, he'd put it into action and build a fortress of hope out of ephemeral dream. The numbers the girl... Lancelot caught himself up. She was no girl, but warrior. No shrinking maiden was she at all.

Elaynt was his fierce Tyger as much as Tristan. A woman required to bear a child to lead her people from blood not her own. Lancelot sighed. He still didn't see how he could... And why? He had a thousand questions he suddenly wanted to ask Elaynt and raised his head to catch her watching him with what looked like... fear.

Lancelot sighed again. They were both caught in some trap designed by a capricious fate. She didn't really want him either. There was no desire in her at all that he could breathe from banked coal to growling fire.

A tightness grew in his gut. She had his word. He had to redeem it.

But he didn't see how it would be, could possibly be, anything other than rape.
-----Galahad

When Arthur himself had ended up flat on his back in the practice ring, Galahad had been as shocked as everyone else. Lancelot had tried to send him off in the morning with some errand but his nose had long ago learned to be wary of Lancelot seeking his help or being helpful. A fox with all but his tail outside the hen coop was no guiltier than Lancelot looking innocent. So of course, he�d waited until they�d all thought him gone and then snuck into the practice arena to watch.

Arthur never lost. Not to anyone. Well, not to anyone other than Tristan. Lancelot held his own with Arthur and Tristan for a while but the inevitable always happened. Arthur winning was a fact of their lives. Apparently, Elaynt winning was a fact of life for their new allies, because the only comments from them after Arthur's fall were all aimed at his fitness for fathering children. Galahad failed to see how one matter led to the other.

Lancelot helped Arthur to his feet with a grin that smacked of satisfaction. Galahad growled. No doubt he'd been meant to be another victim to Lancelot's puckish sense of humour. Nothing on this earth would get him into a sparring match with that girl.

He smiled lazily. Now, getting into a wrestling match with her, that would be... fun.

His fingers itched to unbraid her hair and brush it out. His mouth watered to taste her skin. He was lost in fervent imaginings of couplings when he frowned suddenly. Lancelot had merely put a hand to her shoulder as he congratulated her and the woman had sidled away from the touch. It reminded him of the way...

Galahad bit his lip hard. He knew that look in those beautiful eyes. That frosty and bitter look that warned 'do NOT touch me'. He had seen it many times over the years. He had seen Gawain watch after one who sidestepped touch, who shrugged off kindness, who mutely denied friendship. He'd been witness to Gawain's longing to be close to Tristan. A sense of the ridiculous tickled him. He'd not known what KIND of longing it was and what Gawain had wanted of Tristan. He'd never suspected that!

That girl danced with the sword with Tristan's grace. Her sharply pointed chin and wide false smile were every bit as closed, as wary, as fraught with peril as Tristan's slanted eyes and high cheekbones. Every step she took, she walked upon Tristan's trail.

An unfamiliar feeling came over him as he looked upon the her proud carriage. So straight, so fierce, so strong.

Galahad wondered what it would be like to be Gawain.

-----Lancelot

With a gentle brush of fingers across Elaynt's back, Lancelot escorted his Red Knight to the fortress tavern. If he could at least get her used to his touch that would at least be a beginning. Beneath his fingers, she alternately shivered and stepped away a little to avoid him. This wasn't working at all.

When they entered the courtyard - a simple square occupied by various weatherbeaten tables and things that had doubled so long for chairs that they had gained the name though never the shape - Bors was swooping a laughing toddler in his arms. Vanora had another clinging to her skirts with equally large and dark eyes. As the proud father swung his youngster around in his arms, he caught sight of Lancelot's companion and froze.

"Stay here a moment, my Lady." Lancelot murmured the plea though he wasn't certain she'd be inclined to grant his simple request. He walked away from her slowly, with a glance back to reassure himself that she would wait there for him. He needed to enlighten Bors about Elaynt. No doubt the scene that still haunted Lancelot burned as vividly in Bors. He knew their hatred of the Red Knight had matched in depth only weeks ago.

But there was a great deal more to this tale than either of them knew.

"Bors."

"Your company does you no honor, my friend." Bors put the child down and shooed him away. "Though she is a redhead and one of uncommon spirit! Something to admire in that at least."

A tart voice interrupted with a pithy, "Aye. Well, YOU have a redhead already of your own and I'll thank you to keep your eyes to yourself, my love." Vanora sashayed to Bors and put her arms around his middle with her back squarely to the woman warrior.

Lancelot was highly amused by her protective stance clearly blockading any possible competition from the younger female. "Do you not know Bors has forgotten any other women but you walk this earth, Vanora? Indeed, most of the time I myself forget." He leered with a cheerful heart. Here was something he understood in this rapidly changing life of his. He understood quite thoroughly the act of tweaking Bors into a jealous frenzy. All he had to do was sincerely compliment Vanora.

"Perhaps her resemblance to you will make my predicament easier to bear." With a frown, Lancelot muttered to himself under his breath, "Would that I could get out of it entirely."

Vanora chuckled, all concerned sisterhood, "What is the matter, Lancelot? Usually you like the company of a woman just fine."

"The problem is that sea bitch over there, woman! She's of the people that... They are the ones who took Tristan away from us that year." Bors snarled the words, enmity writ on his face as clear as a horse hated a snake. "He has to bed that little cunt. Tristan has a lot to answer for. Bringing them here!"

"Yes. Tristan. Tristan brought them here. The very people that flayed the skin from his hide until he bled like some priestly augury. The very people who..."

Bors whitened. He still could not think on that time. "Enough, Lancelot, you have made your pointed point."

Lancelot grabbed at the thick wrist just as Bors began to turn away to leave. "I have not finished!" With anger, at who he wasn't certain, Lancelot continued, "Tristan brought them here. There is more to them than we know. Bors! She bears the same scars as Tristan. The same scars both outside and in!"

Bors looked at Lancelot in disbelief. "You're telling me that what happened to Tristan..."

"Yes." Snarling with temper he could not let go, Lancelot whispered, "Romans. Tristan said it was Romans did that to her. She..."

The instincts of a man who dearly loved his children roared to life. Bors looked at the lithe young woman who was waiting, shifting from foot to foot as they argued. You could see on his face that he attempted to count the years backward. Bors shook his head, backed away until his legs met the solid surface of a table, turned and leaned on it to fight down heaves. "She was just a baby."

Lancelot stood still and waited for Bors to finish comprehending that their own personal nightmare was eclipsed by a horror far greater and darker. He waited patiently as Vanora attempted to soothe Bors who now cried fat tears upon the dry wooden planks. He waited patiently, sending a soft smile in Elaynt's direction once in a while as she took out a dagger and started carving a picture upon a wall.

"What do you know of this, Lancelot?"

"I know Tristan sent for them. He sent one who had watched here for years - a man that carried messages of truth and depth to the Red Knight and from the Red Knight to Tristan. I know that Elaynt said Tristan gave her back her life, that her brother loves Tristan for that. Tristan trusted them with our secrets, our lives. We must trust in him. He is our brother."

Before Lancelot could speak further, Bors moved. It never failed to surprise Lancelot that Dagonet and Bors, such large men and heavy of body, could move so quickly. Before he could speak a warning, Bors swept Elaynt up into a body-crushing hug - the same complete but gentle squash he gave to any of his children - before setting her back on her feet.

Vanora turned eyes that spoke of sorrow with unshed tears to Lancelot. "I know what he dreams sometimes when the night is dark and there are storms. He dreams of blood and of being unable to save Tristan. He screams and wakes shaking pale. What these horrible shades of the night make him remember, that happened to her?"

Lancelot nodded dumbly. "I do not know what to do about it. She is the same as Tristan was. She wants no touch, no hug, no kind word. She wants to be left alone to her duty."

"It took two of you to bring Tristan to life."

"I gave my word, though I did not know what I gave it for then. I gave my word to get her with child."

"Start by getting her friendship. Don't worry about the rest. Time enough to worry later, after the battle."

"Who said there would be battle?"

Vanora rolled her eyes. "Strange warriors arrive and are quartered immediately. Arthur starts checking the stockpiles of food and making a count of the townspeople. Dagonet has the pages going over every blade with oil and every squire is fletching arrows. The medicus has gathered up every plant within swift passage of the fort and they are filling every loose container with water. OF COURSE there will be a battle. Really, you men think we women are blind, do you not?" Vanora huffed and swatted Lancelot on the arm. "Go away. I have my own supplies to check. Eight children do not simply feed themselves."

Lancelot grinned and chuckled before turning to his charge. Then he stopped and his face grew tight with concern. Elaynt was enjoying Bors in his full out teasing, but she had stepped well out of his reach and folded her arms protectively around her middle.

'Fierce little cat, ready to bolt', Lancelot thought softly. 'What do I do with you?'

-----Dagonet

Entering Arthur's quarters in the quiet wake of Jols, Dagonet set down the luncheon he'd been carrying on the table. Arthur was going over the map Elaynt had sketched and making list after list. Once in a while, he'd bellow for a page and direct the page to bring him this person or that or recite an order to be passed on by the youngster.

Waiting patiently for Jols to finish setting out supplies and gathering up Arthur's things from the day before, Dagonet folded himself onto a bench in a corner. Jols finally excused himself to Arthur, gave a long meaningful glance from the luncheon to Dagonet and left. Dagonet bounded up and slid home the bolt on the door. Then he paced over to his commander and plopped hands on either side of the map Arthur was perusing yet again.

"Eat. Now."

"Just a moment, I have to think of a way to..."

Dagonet simply grabbed the map and folded it up while Arthur hollered angrily all the while. What was Arthur going to do? He was a valuable resource, a Knight of great ability and might with skills that Arthur relied on daily. Dagonet smiled smugly, seized the tray and set it down before Arthur.

Handing over a mug of steaming mulled wine, Dagonet said conversationally, "They certainly seem skilled enough. The woman does at least."

Arthur went silent. Dagonet eyed his commander and daringly went on. It was what Lancelot would have done after all - keep annoying Arthur until a true feeling came to the surface, not just what Arthur thought he should feel. The man simply thought too much sometimes.

"She seemed deft enough with a sword. Must have had plenty of practice since she downed Tristan, Lancelot and..."

"Do NOT speak of it."

Dagonet went quiet and loudly slurped from the top layer of his own mug, warm in his hands. He could wait. It was the one thing he excelled at.

Arthur picked up a piece of bread and shredded it into bite size pieces. He took a chunk of cheese and turned it over and over in his hand before setting it back upon the platter. The bowl of berries he simply pushed to one side. Then he started in on shredding his bread again.

Finally he looked up and caught Dagonet staring at his hands with a highly amused look. Looking back down between his fingers, Arthur eyed the mushy bits that were all that was left of the good solid bread.

"She knocked me off my feet." The comment was low and awkwardly voiced. Rising in volume, Arthur stated, "She whacked me alongside the ribs and told me to PAY ATTENTION! ME!"

Dagonet shrugged. "You underestimated her."

"Dagonet, a mere slip of woman dropped me into the dust. In front of her men, mine and the Knights."

Dagonet smiled. "You misjudged her skills. The Woads will as well. It is a good thing." He ducked his head so that Arthur would not mistake the grin that was sneaking up on him. Arthur had said 'her men, mine, AND the Knights'. It was something that always pleased him - Arthur placing the Sarmatians on an equal footing with himself. "Eat. We need you to think and you cannot on an empty stomach."

Arthur sighed. "When did you get so demanding?"

Dagonet lifted his head and grinned outright. "Arthur, you have not seen me be demanding yet. Shall I show you?"

Arthur nodded eagerly.

"Then eat first. You will need your strength."

Hesitantly, Arthur picked up a bit of the shredded bread and put it into his mouth to chew it. Looking back at Dagonet, about to ask how much he had to eat to satisfy Dagonet's sense of responsibility, he caught the look in Dagonet's eye.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm watching your mouth move and remembering the delights within it."

Arthur groaned as he instantly hardened between his legs. Then he picked up the fragrant warm mug of wine and sipped it while watching Dagonet. A thought came to him and he reached out for the hunk of cheese, slid it into his mouth and bit a piece off while observing Dagonet's reaction. There. Now Dag was in the same state as he.

Plucking up a couple of berries in his fingers, Arthur held them toward Dagonet asking, "Have you tried these?"

Laughing, because the invitation was so obvious that he could not refuse, Dagonet bent his head and sucked the berries from Arthur's fingers, then licked clean any sign that his Roman had ever held the sticky things. As his tongue slathered across the joints of Arthur's fingers and slipped between the cleft to touch Arthur's palm, he heard the groan escape.

"So much for your meal. Come and seek sustenance from me." It was more order than request. Dagonet rose to his feet and wandered to Arthur's bed before turning to face his new lover. "Come."

Arthur looked down at the remains of his meal atop his folded map. With a grin, he snatched up the bowl of berries and followed Dagonet to the bed.

"We should not be doing this. There is much to plan for and... "

"And it will wait until you have rested. Not that I plan to let you sleep any, but you need this."

Arthur raised his chin and then ruefully smiled. "I need this."

Dagonet began unlacing his trousers and ordered this time. "Knees. Now."

"This is demanding?"

"Not yet." Dagonet laughed. "That comes later tonight when I tell you to just get on with it and FUCK me."

Arthur let his knees buckle and he knelt between Dagonet's spread thighs, sliding his hand across newly bared skin. "I believe I will be able to completely obey you then."

"Good."

-----------------------

TBC....

PeeK

P.S. Yes, the next chapter is ALL about Tristan and Gawain...
- 7
- 8
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Tristan Effect