Upon their long anticipated return to the fort, Tristan found Galahad in the stables, the young knight their horse master. While not well versed in diplomacy like Arthur and Lancelot were, Galahad had a way with animals, the most feral beast gentling under his touch and soft tone of words. It was what had first attracted Tristan to the younger knight, made him take notice of Galahad and elevate him from a comrade in arms to someone he could allow himself to show affection to.
While he was outspoken and brash, often letting his opinion be known even if it was unpopular, Galahad always spoke the truth of a matter. It had gotten him trouble before, his training particularly hard for him because of it. The harsher the treatment Galahad received from men though, the gentler he became with animals, the knight having a kind aura about him that soothed both wolf and lamb alike.
When Tristan found himself wanting to be one of those animals, envious to know the feel of Galahad's light touch and hear those honeyed words spoken to him instead of just overheard, the quiet archer knew he had been marked. His approach had been subtle but insistent, like the way he had lured his hawk with scraps of food, gaining the bird's trust until it could be properly caught and trained. He wanted to do the same to Galahad.
Even now, he moved to stand beside the man he desired, watching Galahad from his peripheral. Since their return, the younger knight seemed to be drawn taunt as a bow string. Too much pressure and mishandling would cause him to snap. A gentle approach was needed to unwind him. So Tristan simply stood at his side, letting Galahad choose what to do next.
Reminding himself to keep breathing, Galahad bit at his bottom lip, at a complete loss at how to proceed. Tristan wasn't some easy barmaid half drunk on wine and flush with lust, an companion who would be happy enough with his cock for a night for an hour or a night. This was something different and deep and Galahad desperately didn't want to fail himself or Tristan.
The air about Galahad was like that of a horse during a storm, jittery and ready to run at the slightest provocation. Tristan knew he would give chase if he did but he wanted this night to be one of leisure.
Reaching over slowly so that Galahad could follow his movements, Tristan ran his hand down the length of Galahad's arm, starting at his shoulder. He could feel the man shudder beneath his fingertips, wanting to bolt. Tristan continued though, stopping at his elbow to swirl his fingers around the joint, fanning out his hand as he moved further on. Galahad's arms, like the rest of him, was finely shaped, muscular yet wiry. Tristan wanted to see all of it under him before this night was over.
His caresses touched upon Galahad's wrist before finding the man's fingers so that Tristan could tangle them together, tugging at the callused digits with his own before letting go. Without any words spoken between them, Tristan turned to leave, the decision of what happened next falling upon Galahad. To his quiet relief, Tristan heard the other man follow him after only a moment's hesitation.
Galahad didn't have to wonder long where they were going, their destination obviously becoming the baths. In Galahad's opinion, the series of chambers were about the only good thing the Roman had ever given them. Well, that and indoor plumbing. There was something to be said about not having to dig a hole outside to relieve yourself on a cold night.
The bath houses were built in and over a natural hot spring, the soothing warm waters accessible to all thanks to Arthur's influence, though one pool in particular was set aside for his and the knight's use alone. A hidden chamber apart from the rest gave the warriors some privacy and a space of peace to lounge in at their leisure, the little they were given.
At this time of night, Galahad knew it would be empty, save for himself and Tristan. Arthur would be writing his reports and praying to his god while Dagonet and Bors drank themselves silly at the bar. Lancelot and Gawain would be there as well, either gambling or wenching some fortunate barmaid.
Having less to take off that Tristan, Galahad was in the bath well before him, very carefully not looking over at Tristan as he disrobed. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other naked before. Living in each other's pockets while on the road left little to the imagination. If hard pressed and under protest, Galahad could reluctantly go into detail about Bors's and Dagonet's unmentionables if he had to.
Closing his eyes, Galahad listened to Tristan strip down. He knew this man's body, at least by sight and then only in quick looks. Tanned skin, scarred from and tattooed by design. Thinner legs than one would think, finely made yet lithe and strong. Broad shoulders, tapered waist, and sharply curved hips, all of which were being pressed up to his back now as strong arms came around his waist to keep Galahad close.
Hot water lapping at their shoulders, Galahad could feel Tristan breathing on the back of his neck, the archer parting his lips to place a sodden kiss to his nape. Large hands were back upon Galahad, touching him almost reverently everywhere as they glided in and out of the water in exploration.
"Let me clean you." was whispered into Galahad's ear, the man only able to weakly nod his consent as he was gently guided to the bath's seating area. In a daze, Galahad watched as the ashen grit of the soup was working over his skin. Tristan started with his hands, taking his time massaging the fine workings of muscles and delicate bones, somehow making this more intimate that if he were touching Galahad lower between his thighs.
Following up his form to touch the muscular line and curve of his arms and shoulders, Tristan caressed Galahad's chest, exploring the flat plains of his chest, weapon roughed fingers circling around nipples to make them bud and harden. Trembling now from this treatment, Galahad watched as his belly was given the same treatment, those wonderful fingers catching in tight dark curls, making Galahad moan as they were tugged at.
Made to sit out of the bath on the ledge, Galahad's legs and feet were admired and scrubbed until his skin was pink with care and the occasional bite mark. Panting, Galahad ran his fingers through long ashen brown hair, tugging at the braids woven in those locks as a hot tongue lapped the water from off his inner thighs.
The area Galahad wanted most explored though was let achingly untouched, his cock standing out from its thatch of curls, leaking clear droplets like strange dew. When he impatiently wrapped a hand around himself, that got a reaction but not the one he wanted, Tristan slapping his hand away before pulling Galahad back into the water and onto his lap.
Galahad gasped as his cock rubbed up against Tristan's own, the man full and heavy as the younger knight as he settled on top of the archer. Putting his arms around Tristan's shoulders for stability, Galahad held him close as he licked his way into the older man's mouth, sucking and nipping at the plaint flesh there until it reddened and bruised.
Beginning to feel desperate, Galahad gasped a slurred curse against Tristan's lips, their cocks now pressed firmly together in Tristan's hands. To his own personal shame, Galahad didn't last long, Tristan's heavy handed strokes pulling the pleasure from his flesh as easily as the man could draw a sword.
Resting their foreheads together, Galahad lost himself the whiteout sensation, panting as his body thrust and danced to Tristan's touch, the press of his palm. Through half lidded eyes whose sight was hazy from bliss, Galahad knew that he was being watched, Tristan's gaze never shying away as Galahad showed him a moment of vulnerability.
Not to be outdone and made useless, Galahad reached for his lover, Tristan leaning into his hold upon him as both their fingers rippled and contracted over heated flesh. When Galahad swiped a thumb over an overripe head to press the pad into the weeping slit, Tristan was lost. He voiced out his pleasure, emptying out his sighs and groans into Galahad's mouth, their kiss sloppy and wet and fantastic as they continued to rock against one another. They only stilled when their flesh became too oversensitive to keep touching, making everywhere else fair game in its stead.
"You owe me a coin." Bors said, making Galahad go the knife that wasn't on his person at the moment. The new lovers glared up at the trio who watched them with wickedly smug grins on their faces from the bath's entrance where they lounged, jars of wine from the bar still in hand.
"Hardly. If fair Galahad was a blushing bride, he would still be a virgin." Gawain argued, shaking his head and gesturing to the naked men before them as his evidence.
"He's still blushing." Dagonet pointed out with a grin, all the knights looking quite pleased with themselves.
"Pay up. A bet's a bet, and details are for misers." Bors said, smacking Gawain's arm. The other man sighed, fishing out his money from its pouch. Before Galahad could attack or say anything in his defense, he found himself being thrown over a broad shoulder, his new view that of Tristan's backside. The tattooed archer easily carried his prize out of the bath, giving up their clothes in favor of walking toward their quarters.
Watching in despair as his garments disappeared from view, Galahad glared up that the leering faces that filled his limited vision. "Help me, you asses." He snapped at them. Struggling only resulted in Tristan smacking his ass and wounding his pride further.
"I would, dear friend, but I think Tristan might take offense. That being said, I happen to like where my cock is and the condition it's in." Gawain chuckled as he watched Galahad try to free himself again to no avail.
"Quit struggling or I'll fuck you in the middle of the square instead of a soft bed." Tristan said, tightening his grip upon his treasure.
"You wouldn't!" Galahad gasped even as he stilled. He wouldn't put it past Tristan to do so. The possessive look in the archer's eyes promised the intent of making everyone know that Galahad was his and his alone.
"Please do! I'll get my coin back." Gawain called after them.
"I wish the vilest of deaths upon you all." Galahad told them in sincere tones, making the trio break out into laughter.
"I hope that's not your pillow talk!" Gawain said to be answered with a rude hand gesture from the carried knight. Just as Galahad figured it couldn't get any worse, the pair passed Lancelot and Arthur in the hall, Galahad getting a unique view of their amused faces as they looked back at them. Dieing a little on the inside, Galahad watched as their leader leaning in to speak low to his second in command.
"You owe me a coin."
OoOoO
TBC