"Pass the wine, I'm still sober!!" roared Bors from the end of table. The Knights laughed heartily and continued drinking. Bors was clearly as drunk as a lord. His wine was all gone because his attempts to finish his mug had resulted in half the liquid being poured down the front of his clothes, and yet still he craved more.
"The pitcher is empty, Bors, you drank it all" replied Lancelot.
"Where's Vanora? Vanora! Woman, where are you? We've run out of wine!"
"She's gone to bed, Bors. I've worn her out from love making!"
Bors laughed so hard at this that he fell backwards off his seat onto the ground. Tristan, Arthur and Lancelot howled with laughter as Dagonet attempted to pull Bors to his feet. Bors, however, was quite enjoying lying on the ground, and he decided that Dagonet should join him, much to everyone's amusement.
At the other end of the table, sitting side-by-side, Galahad and Gawaine drowned their mirth in their mugs. Their eyes briefly met and they sparkled with delight. Fifteen years. It had seemed an eternity of years and months when they left Sarmatia, but soon, they would return home, not the boys that left, but men, weary and battle scarred.
The two sat silent while the others continued to laugh and make sport of Dagonet's attempts to right himself. Bors was being stubborn in his refusal to let go of his leg. Arthur and Lancelot were beside themselves with laughter. Both were leaning on the other for support as the wine and the hilarity shook their frames. Tristan merely grinned as he observed Bors and Dagonet cavort on the ground, while he slipped pieces of meat to his hawk.
Almost casually, Gawaine rested his left hand on the bench between them. His fingers were barely touching the material of Galahad's kilt. Galahad stiffened slightly, as always minutely aware of Gawaine, but continued drinking nonetheless. Gawaine softly brushed his fingers against a bare patch of skin; Galahad shivered and briefly locked eyes with Gawaine. Gawaine smiled and then looked away to the others, just as his hand moved to Galahad's knee and slid under the kilt. Galahad was then left to pretend that his body wasn't about to go on fire, as he stifled a gasp. Gawaine's fingers whispered across his thigh, stroking his skin softly and tenderly.
Lancelot was now slumped over on the table, beating his fists upon it as the laughter completely overtook him. Bors was trying to remove Dagonet's shoe so he could tickle his foot, and Dagonet, who was very ticklish, was desperately trying to escape.
"Get off me, you great big elephant," he shouted.
Across the table from the others, the exquisite torture continued. Blood surged around Galahad's body and his heart beat faster, almost painfully, in his chest. He felt that if he wasn't already flushed from the wine, his face would be a very telling picture. Surely someone would notice! He tried desperately to focus on the conversations of his peers, lest his heart explode from the adrenaline-fuelled fear of being discovered and the delicious sensations in his leg.
Gawaine continued to trace delicate circles along his skin, gently and excruciatingly teasing the bare flesh, moving slowly upwards.
At this point Vanora arrived out of the night with more wine. The distraction allowed Dagonet to escape from Bors' clutches. When he was standing again, he poured the rest of his wine on Bors' head, leaving Bors slightly purple-looking and bewildered. Vanora stood disapprovingly over Bors' prostrate form.
"Get up, you drunken fool! If you're going to behave like that you can sleep in the stable tonight!"
Gawaine's hand had moved right up to the top of Galahad's thigh and between his legs. Galahad responded by wrapping his arms around his own chest and biting into one hand to keep himself from uttering a single sound.
The combined threat of being cast out of his bed later and the promise of more alcohol soon had Bors on his feet again. That being done, he swept Vanora into his arms for a deep kiss.
"You wouldn't throw me out, would you my love?" he inquired cheekily.
"I will with breath like that! Now let me alone, will you?"
"Shut up and kiss me woman!" And with that, he drew her onto his lap and kissed her until she was gasping for air.
In the commotion, no one had noticed that Galahad was now clutching the table top with both hands and was trying exceptionally hard not to pant like his horse after a forced gallop. Gawaine was drinking his wine nonchalantly, looking in the other direction, his left hand beneath the table.
"Feeling alright Galahad? Not going to be sick from all that wine, are you?" inquired Lancelot, having observed the white knuckles and strange expression on Galahad's face.
Galahad turned to him with the look of a frightened deer.
"I'm fine, just feeling a little… distracted, that's all"
Gawaine nearly choked on his drink.