Safehouse
Since leaving home, Lancelot had enjoyed many lovers, eager to learn everything about the world that had not wanted him, had wanted him so little they'd drowned him. Now he was grown, they seemed to want him plenty, at least to fight for them and to fuck them. To serve them.
Not that he had any complaints, so long as the only person he ultimately served at the end of the day was Arthur. In the meantime, he took his pleasures where he wanted, for the most part, though that was infrequently enough as treachery lay in every corner.
Then he'd met Galehaut, and no one else could draw his eyes, though many still tried.
He'd never kept a lover for more than a few days, a whole week once before that spice monger had carried on his way. Last Lancelot had heard, the man was married with several children now.
So though he'd never admit it aloud to anyone, he wasn't quite certain what to do with a real, true, his-for-life lover. Other than spread his legs like a wanton whore and let Galehaut mount him as often as it pleased him to do so.
They'd been lovers for three months now, though most of that had been spent in travel and solving the various problems of the kingdom.
Now, though, they were back in Camelot for at least a month.
A real chance to spend time together in a way they hadn't since that single day and night Lancelot had traded for a victory that had cost Galehaut literally everything.
He'd gone to great lengths to ensure they would be left alone the whole night, had arranged for food that would keep for hours, wine, everything they could possibly need. He'd bathed thoroughly, made himself ready, and now…
Now Galehaut was due to arrive any moment.
Discarding his dressing robe, Lancelot climbed into the enormous bed that had replaced the one he'd used for years, as that one was far too small to accommodate two people, one of them half-giant.
Lying naked in his own bed should not feel so decadent, but oh how it did. He'd gotten the idea from Merlin and Galahad, who'd both used it to great effect with their lovers.
Sprawled on top of the blankets, bare to the world for any who might walk in, nowhere to go if it was anyone but Galehaut…
to say he was vulnerable was an understatement.
Anyone at all could come in, and he'd be entirely helpless.
The very idea made him sick with anxiety, but Merlin had promised him they would remain undisturbed the night through, and Merlin always kept his word.
So he sprawled naked in bed, kept warm by the fire, and waited anxiously to see if this idea was brilliant or foolish.
When the door finally unlocked and opened, his heart was fit to pop.
A heavy satchel appeared first, thrown to the ground with a definite air of that's finally done.
Then the door swung wider, and Galehaut himself appeared, huge and beautiful and enchanting.
He looked around the room with a slight frown as he closed the door, shoulders drooping—and then his gaze reached the bed, eyes widening.
But he didn't speak. Didn't move. His expression didn't change at all, except for the way his eyes remained wide and his nostrils flared. Those were good signs, right?
As the silence stretched on, Lancelot's already fragile confidence in this Merlin-like venture wavered, stomach knotting, humiliation making him cold despite the warm fire. He'd judged wrong. Merlin had been mistaken. He was just behaving like a shameless harlot.
He shifted, braced himself to sit up and find his dressing robe—
"Look at you, pretty thing," Galehaut said, voice low and husky as he finally walked toward the bed, more into the light, baring the heat in his eyes that Lancelot hadn't seen with distance and shadow.
"What did I do to deserve this? I must know so I can repeat the action often.
" He stopped at the edge of the bed and reached out to trail one massive hand along Lancelot's skin, starting at his ankle and slowly trailing up to trace the line of his cheek. "Angels weep to be as lovely as you."
"Blasphemer," Lancelot said softly, smiling, because they neither of them ascribed to human religions. Galehaut was a child of the old, wild woods of his mother, and Lancelot came from places humans would never see, let alone comprehend.
Galehaut bent to kiss him lightly, teasingly, but it was more than enough for the last of Lancelot's anxieties to fade away. He pouted when Galehaut withdrew, but was mollified when it was only to discard his clothes. No armor today, thankfully, which would have required calling for assistance.
Lancelot's mouth watered staring at the beauty bared to him.
Miles upon miles of brown skin warmed by the sun as often as Galehaut could manage, the dark curls always going every direction at once, those delicate gray eyes that could contain rending storms but were so gentle when gazing at him.
Acres of well-honed muscle that could snap men in half like twigs but always touched him like something precious.
Or fucked him so hard he couldn't move the rest of the night.
Tossing aside the last of his clothes, Galehaut gave his hardening cock a few idle strokes before climbing onto the bed and spreading Lancelot's thighs like a conquering king.
"Such a pretty little thing, and all for me," Galehaut murmured.
He spread his hands over Lancelot's thighs, thumbs dipping low to spread his ass and bare his hole, hissing at the gleaming oil already there.
"Are you so hungry, then? Have I not kept you properly fed? "
"Feed me now," Lancelot said on a groan, moving restlessly on the sheets, as much as he could, anyway, with a mountain between his spread legs.
One of those enormous hands wrapped around his cock, practically dwarfing it. That shouldn't be so arousing, but Lancelot's cock only grew harder, didn't it?
Galehaut bent to kiss him, claiming his mouth like a conqueror, until Lancelot's lips throbbed and there wasn't a single thought left in his head.
That hot mouth nibbled at his jaw, then worked its way down, down his body in leisurely fashion, licking across his nipples, biting at his sides, trailing kisses along his ribcage.
He lapped up the fluids already smeared across Lancelot's stomach, then grasped his cock once more and suckled the head teasingly.
"Bastard," Lancelot gasped out, hands flailing, one fisting in the sheets, the other sinking into Galehaut's hair in a futile effort to make him do a proper job of things.
Instead, Galehaut withdrew easily, rising up fully, those broad shoulders taking up all the space, blotting out the firelight and candles behind him.
"I won't leave you wanting, pretty thing.
I intend to have you thoroughly, ravenously.
Until you pass out from pleasure while I'm still fucking you and wake up too full and sated to move. "
Lancelot whimpered, eyes closed, head back, cock twitching so hard he might have come if Galehaut had kept talking.
"You are good at sating my hunger," he finally managed.
The words were true. He'd rarely suffered a bad fuck, but nobody had ever left him as satisfied as Galehaut.
That very first night in his bedroom, in the beloved castle that was one more thing he would lose for choosing Lancelot, he'd fucked Lancelot so well and thoroughly he'd been brought to tears and slept well past the sunrise hour when he'd been free to leave.
He tried to sit up, reach out, do some touching and teasing of his own, but Galehaut was having none of it. "Gale—"
"You were laid out like an offering, and I intend to enjoy you as such," Galehaut said. "Prince of Tides, you were made to be worshipped."
Lancelot laughed breathlessly, though it turned into a moan as Galehaut's hot hands resumed touching him all over. "Don't call me that. Am I the offering or the worshipped? I can't be both."
"Shush," Galehaut chided. "Don't pick apart my compliments.
" He dropped his mouth over Lancelot's cock, making him wail, hands flying up to hold fast to the headboard as he thrust shamelessly into Galehaut's hot mouth.
Galehaut, though, being the horrible person he was, pinned his hips so he could do nothing but take what he was given.
Lancelot cursed and pleaded at the teasing sucking, so close to what he needed but never quite enough.
He wailed far louder than he'd ever admit when Galehaut pulled off his cock. "You son of— Finish what you were doing!"
"Can I still fuck you if I do?"
Lancelot gave him a look of utter bafflement. "Why would you not? I like when you fuck me, in case you somehow did not notice that our entire journey to Camelot. Knowing you, I'll just rise to the occasion a second time." As he'd anticipated, that sparked a challenge that Galehaut could not resist.
It was all the warning he received before that hot mouth took his cock deep again, so he touched the back of Galehaut's throat, and he sucked and laved with full dedication to the task, provoking Lancelot to spill in practically no time at all.
He was still struggling to get his breath back when Galehaut's fingers slipped back—and then it was his turn to groan as he was reminded that Lancelot was already slick and ready for him.
"You certainly knew what you wanted from me tonight, didn't you?
Why anyone thinks you're seeking invitation to Guinevere's bed when you are the most cock-hungry—"
Lancelot yanked him down into a kiss, face flushed scarlet because Galehaut wasn't wrong, but he didn't need to go announcing it to gods and nosy residents lurking outside the door either.
Galehaut nibbled at his jaw as they parted, the smirk entirely in his voice when he said, "Did I fluster you, beloved?"
"Your brazen words always fluster me, and you know it, knave."