A/N: I just couldn't let this rest, so here's a short sequel to Cat Got Your Tongue. A funny thing I noticed about this movie was how far it goes to show you that Felson and Behmen are not gay, despite their obvious closeness and reliance on each other: The constant 'my friend' references, the scene of debauchery in between the Crusade fights, and talk of Felson's conquest (or his being conquested!) in France. I found it all rather amusing. And I also wanted to find a way to put them together, without necessarily breaking their characterizations. I've done similar experiments in my Sorcerer's Apprentice (2010) pairings of Dave and even Horvath, with Balthazar. I like finding ways of making the seemingly impossible, possible.
Disclaimer: I'm pretty sure the true owners are glad I have no claim to any of this!
. . . But The Witch Has You
The knight strode quickly and purposefully through the tall, dried grassy field, having nearly fully prepared himself for this morning's journey. He had slept well, for the first time in a long time, and had actually been quite warm during the night, but he was halfway back to the camp to finish layering up, as daylight had brought with it a brisk wind. And then it was as if his knees had suddenly slammed into a wall, and he went down instantly, bewildered.
Did you really think you'd be free of me that easily, Behmen? The voice was laughing at him, everywhere around him, and he tried to block it out as he scrambled back to his feet frantically. He was trying to run, now, but something tripped him, and he was back down again.
"Behmen?"Felson called now, a sickening feeling striking him as he watched his friend fall down for the second time, just knowing it was the witch.
Behmen jerked his head up at his friend's call, trying to get off of his hands and knees. And then he felt the iron clamp around his neck, and a chain was pulled, and he disappeared within the tall grass.
You're not going anywhere.
"Behmen!" Felson was running towards him, now.
Perfect.
"Stop this," Behmen whispered, hands up to his throat as he thrashed in the grass. "I beg you; stop this." In response, he felt iron sheaths clamp around his wrists and ankles, and then the chains appeared, barely six inches between the ankles, and a torso width between his hands, they pinned at his sides, the metal digging into his back as he laid on it.
Stop fighting me, damn you!
Felson was over him now, kneeling at his side, surprised at the lack of movement, the cloudy blue eyes glassy as they seemed to look through his friend. "I'll help you up," the man offered, hoping against all hope that it would be that easy. A large arm slipped around him, and the other felt the shackle around his neck, and the chain, though it couldn't be seen: "Behmen?" The witch hadn't invaded Felson's mind, though he figured out what had happened, and was in on the joke. The blond gasped suddenly, as he heard another set of iron shut closed, and the chain from the neck was suddenly attached to a clamp around the younger man's waist. A quick glance confirmed that the hands and feet were bound also, and the total weight of the iron and chains was probably more than what the smaller man tipped the scales at. Behmen couldn't move; just breathing was making him dizzy, and his eyes were wildly unfocused, and tearing continuously.
"This is not the way to arouse me!" Felson yelled to the invisible witch, Behmen managing to crack a hint of a smile. "She's kinkier than I am," he said now, more in aside to his friend. The blond would've laughed, but probably would've passed out. "I suppose we have to do this, then," he sighed in resignation, regarding the other carefully.
"I am truly sorry, Felson," he whispered, nodding slightly, a hand stroking down the side of his face.
"I'll warn the others to leave us be, since you've taken ill again." He got up slowly, reluctant to leave the blond, fearing the witch might mete out more punishment, but he really couldn't think of anything more she could do if Behmen was to be at all capable of carrying out her command. He didn't show this turmoil, though, winking at his fellow knight: "Don't go anywhere."
"I'll be waiting with bated breath."
"I warned you against having the fish last night."
"I still smell better than you do," he grinned, now, the other taken aback.
"One lousy night in a dungeon, and I'll never live it down . . ." Felson trailed off as he walked away, Behmen chuckling lightly before closing his eyes, trying to calm his system, and adjust to the pressure of his bonds. The witch had gone quiet; obviously happy that she was finally getting what she wanted, and he wasn't about to try pleading with her again, after his previous failed attempt.
Felson wasn't gone long; he returned with a blanket, a pillow, and the flask, which he and Behmen took generous swigs from.
"How romantic," the blond quipped. "But, where are the candles?"
"If all the grass burns, we'll be on display," the older man pointed out before turning serious: "Has she said anything?"
"No."
"I'm going to unfasten your tunics, at least down to the iron."
"Fine," he nodded. "I'm surprised she hadn't, already."
"I just can't wrap my brain around this, Behmen," the older man confessed as his hands moved slowly down, spreading the blue cloth and grey sweater out. The bound man's chest felt softer than he expected, and he was staring at it.
"Likewise," the blond nodded, trembling slightly. "Now kiss me."
"Still the fearless leader, eh?" he smiled.
"I can't move, but I can still give orders," he grinned back, managing to lift his head ever so slightly as an invitation. Their faces were inches apart, and they were studying each other's features as if they were seeing them for the first time, which, in an odd way, they were: "Your eyes are really blue."
"And yours are light, and like the weather." This was even more awkward, and Felson had always been a man of action, "Ah, what the hell. . ." So he kissed him, pushing his mouth against the other's pouty lower lip, not exactly being delicate. He felt Behmen inhale sharply while responding, and deepened while lifting his leg to straddle the bound man, having moved from the side. A hand stroked down the sleeve of the blue tunic, past the shackle, and grasped flailing fingers, and the younger man relaxed somewhat. "Better?" he asked, his hand being tightly clutched, the other cradling the side of Behmen's slightly flushed face, and they were both somewhat breathless.
"Much," he nodded, drawing the other man into his mouth again, tongues clashing together. Fingers brushed Felson's covered knee, it resting against the blond's other bound hand. The elder knight moved his left hand, now, fingers entangling the surprisingly soft blond hair until it ended at the shoulder, and then it moved to the base of the throat. He felt Behmen's breath quicken as they continued to kiss, and there was almost a death grip on his right hand, and his left moved farther down. Felson felt gratified that his friend was so aroused; he'd been having a terrible time during this mission, and he reached under the waist clamp and unfastened the tunic and sweater the rest of the way. Behmen shifted anxiously under his manacles, anticipating, and his white-haired friend's hand finally reached his pants, checking his status.
"Looks like you get first crack," he joked tenderly, the blond's breath catching painfully, an attempted laugh squeezed out of him. The light eyes nearly rolled back before he caught himself, shaking his head slightly. "Please don't pass out," he implored, eyes boring into the other's.
"No," he barely audibly answered, very blue eyes helping him focus, though his eyes fluttered as a hand stroked him, of course for a very different reason.
"How long has it been?" Felson asked, rather cryptically, as he unfastened the pants, pushing them down.
"Too long, in reality." The older man nodded in understanding before he vanished, and suddenly Behmen almost felt too light, despite the irons. But he was back just as quickly, squatting over the erect knight. "I'm sorry if this hurts you."
"Well, I expect it to," was the answer, voice thick with another swig from the flask, giving the blond some as well before casting it aside. Felson winked, now, "But I'll get you back." Grimacing, he lowered himself slowly.
All of the sudden, Behmen was free from the shackles, the chains; everything, and he sat up instantly, the man on his lap shaking, eyes closed, not quite having experienced the same release when his friend had orgasmed.
"Felson," he whispered, palming the sides of the sweaty, flushed face, kissing him carefully, tenderly, gratefully.
"Behmen?" He opened his eyes, now, his hands out, grasping the shoulders of the other, pushing him back slightly to take in the sight of his unencumbered friend. The eyes were much brighter, now, though he was obviously still weak and dizzy, and the blond hair was slightly damp and falling in his face. Overjoyed, Felson pulled the younger knight into a huge hug, and they held each other tightly for a long time before disengaging. They helped each other stand, and redressed their lower halves. "Are you sure you're okay?"
"Considering I could've died if you hadn't agreed to do this? Perfect," he beamed, slipping an arm around the other's shoulders. They chuckled briefly, and Felson kissed his cheek before they turned serious again: "But, how can I possibly make it up to you?" Felson found the flask, now, having some before passing it over:
"Have a few servings." He was smiling wickedly, now, and Behmen felt slightly uneasy, but did as told, before handing it back. The older man sealed it before throwing it down into the grass, and then he turned lustful eyes towards his friend, who took a step back as realization started to dawn. Felson winked, now, "Are you going to let me chase you, or are you just going to throw yourself at my feet?"
"I take it you want to chase me," he said quietly, resigned as he started to refasten his sweater and tunic, somewhat chilly, but then he thought, looking up, dropping his hands as Felson shook his head at him:
"Well, we haven't run in ages, but I don't really want to chase you." He took a purposeful step forward. "I want to catch you."
"Fine." Behmen was already running. Normally, he would've been light and graceful, at least compared to the bigger, burlier knight. Felson had always been the brawn, with his brute strength and easy manner, and Behmen the agile one with the deep thoughts. Never weak by any means, Behmen could usually think his way out of most situations. But not this one, and lingering injuries from the shackles were hindering him the rest of the way, Felson leaping on his back almost immediately, he crashing to his stomach in the tall grass, they never having left the field. They both laid there awhile, panting, catching their breath, Felson's hands resting on the pinned man's shoulders.
"So," Behmen finally managed, thinking back to something his friend had said earlier. "Just how kinky are you?"
"I guess you're going to find out," Felson breathed in his right ear from behind, pushing down his collars and mouthing the side of his throat, the right hand under him, palm against his chest. It slid slowly down his torso, teasing him, and then it unfastened his pants and groped inside. Somewhat startled, Behmen tried to get up, but the older knight just pinned him again, though the resistance actually aroused him further, his left hand shoving the blond's pants down past his knees from behind, his own hardness ready.
"Y-You don't have to try to make this easier for me," the blond gasped, now, his manhood being manipulated even as his legs were pushed apart from behind.
"Shhh . . . " was all Felson managed, thoroughly enjoying how crazy with desire he was making the other, long fingers clutching handfuls of grass into his fists. The blond had large angry black friction bruises everywhere the shackles had been; his wrists, his waist, his neck, and surely his ankles as well. Not that he had noticed, yet, but his horny, kinky friend had, and it had made him want to pleasure the blond as much as possible, even while taking his so-called 'turn'. He waited until Behmen was about to come before entering him, knowing the pain would end that the wrong way, but then he stroked the man again even as he was thrusting, practically ordering both to explode at the same time, which they did, a scant short time later. Behmen had made one last attempt to squirm out from under the other just before, but he was completely engulfed, and he shook violently as they climaxed.
"He's exhausted, now, but there should be no further delays," Felson informed Debelzaq and Kay as he carefully laid the unconscious knight next to the campfire, head on the pillow, and covered by the blanket. The older knight eyed the witch with contempt, but of course she looked practically gleeful, nodding her head enthusiastically, finally satisfied. He looked at Debelzaq now, "Behmen has friction bruises from shackles he encountered in that field," he vaguely explained as the priest eyed him strangely. "Will any of your potions help with them?"
"I have a few topicals," he nodded, he and Kay up to fetch them. Once they were located, Felson knelt down by his friend, pushing aside the blanket and revealing the rings, the three men carefully anointing the wounds so as not to awaken the sleeping man.
The procession finally left for Severac the next morning, the two friends somewhat in a daze from their forced encounter, though they rode together like normal, like nothing so intimate had transpired between them. Felson was talking about wanting to visit his birthplace, and he invited Behmen when the other seemed to have no definite plans. Of course Behmen would go, but their mission wasn't quite over, yet, no matter how much they yearned for it to be. Unfortunately, the very worst was yet to come.