FIC: The Essential 'Winter's Last Kiss', R Lance/Gawain/Tristan
Title: The Essential 'Winter's Last Kiss'
Pairing/Characters: Lancelot/Gawain/Tristan with a side of Galahad
Rating: R
Summary: They're wet, undressed and ah...wanting.
Author's Note: Word count - 519. Discussing the knights500 theme of the week 'Desire' and said LOL.. the center of each fic of mine is that and was dared to compress my Winter's Kiss to fit the theme... Don't wish to compete really, just wish to say "Here it is." P.S. LOVE THIS CHALLENGE SITE!
Lancelot stripped out of his things with speed. He hated being wet, dirty, cold. Soon he was naked, lanky arms and legs highlighted with nature's illuminata, the fire. Lancelot dug out Galahad's bedroll. He spread the furs along one wall and lay his back to it. Gawain helped the shivering Galahad into Lancelot's waiting arms. The heat of Lancelot’s body gradually stilled Galahad's shivers even as Gawain gratefully stripped at last.
Lancelot winced as Gawain's tunic jerked up and over his head. He closed his eyes tightly against the sight to shield himself from overbright sun. Right now, with his arms full of chilled temperamental Galahad, Lancelot was certain that he did not wish to view the expanse of Gawain's chest and the prickly blond hair upon it. Just remembering the last time Gawain had lain heavily atop his back after vigorously fulfilling both himself and Lancelot with the fevered hungers of their erotic practices and pricked Lancelot's skin into red relief rubbing his chest hairs up against Lancelot's body... well, it was NOT having a settling effect. Lancelot bit the inside of his cheek HARD. He would NOT scare Galahad to death by suddenly acquiring an erection beneath him.
Galahad fit inside the circle of his arms for all that they were the same height. With his eyes tightly closed against any further stray visions, Lancelot allowed himself to drift drowsily. The even pattern of Lancelot’s breathing lulled even Galahad into sleep. Now all Lancelot had to do was stay awake enough to avoid drifting into some torrid dream of warm skin and ardent loving. He wished to avoid raping Galahad by mistake in the grip of some enthusiastic fantasy. Ruefully he considered the times he'd awakened in the throes of taking Gawain or Tristan. His body functioned well enough even without his mind.
Not acquiring an unwanted visitor suddenly became difficult as he FELT more than heard Tristan creep close to Gawain. There was low voiced muttering and the wet splat as Tristan's gear met the ground. Determined, Lancelot began reciting Arthur's wretched God's sayings, "Thou shalt not ....this.... and thou shalt not.... that", then he began trying to remember the stupid prayers Arthur muttered. It didn't work when the low words began to creep in.
"I saw you once."
Tristan didn't answer. There wasn't a need to say anything, so he didn't. Gawain's voice continued on.
"In the rain. I was out hunting and.... you arrived... there. I was watching ... you..."
Gawain's voice caught. Lancelot knew that catch. It meant Gawain was fighting off hunger, trying to pull back in the maelstrom before it unleashed.
"I what?"
Tristan's voice was idle curiosity, an unfurling flower stretching out to kiss the sun.
"You WASHED."
Gawain's voice was full of ....something. It wasn't surprise or statement .... what was it?
"Ah, Gawain..."
Tristan's voice was full of something Lancelot knew quite well; intimately, deeply, to the bone. Lust. The kind of lust that blossomed into reality in the pulse of a heartbeat. The incarnated form of demonic need, driving you to gratification whether you willed it so or not.
Pairing/Characters: Lancelot/Gawain/Tristan with a side of Galahad
Rating: R
Summary: They're wet, undressed and ah...wanting.
Author's Note: Word count - 519. Discussing the knights500 theme of the week 'Desire' and said LOL.. the center of each fic of mine is that and was dared to compress my Winter's Kiss to fit the theme... Don't wish to compete really, just wish to say "Here it is." P.S. LOVE THIS CHALLENGE SITE!
Lancelot stripped out of his things with speed. He hated being wet, dirty, cold. Soon he was naked, lanky arms and legs highlighted with nature's illuminata, the fire. Lancelot dug out Galahad's bedroll. He spread the furs along one wall and lay his back to it. Gawain helped the shivering Galahad into Lancelot's waiting arms. The heat of Lancelot’s body gradually stilled Galahad's shivers even as Gawain gratefully stripped at last.
Lancelot winced as Gawain's tunic jerked up and over his head. He closed his eyes tightly against the sight to shield himself from overbright sun. Right now, with his arms full of chilled temperamental Galahad, Lancelot was certain that he did not wish to view the expanse of Gawain's chest and the prickly blond hair upon it. Just remembering the last time Gawain had lain heavily atop his back after vigorously fulfilling both himself and Lancelot with the fevered hungers of their erotic practices and pricked Lancelot's skin into red relief rubbing his chest hairs up against Lancelot's body... well, it was NOT having a settling effect. Lancelot bit the inside of his cheek HARD. He would NOT scare Galahad to death by suddenly acquiring an erection beneath him.
Galahad fit inside the circle of his arms for all that they were the same height. With his eyes tightly closed against any further stray visions, Lancelot allowed himself to drift drowsily. The even pattern of Lancelot’s breathing lulled even Galahad into sleep. Now all Lancelot had to do was stay awake enough to avoid drifting into some torrid dream of warm skin and ardent loving. He wished to avoid raping Galahad by mistake in the grip of some enthusiastic fantasy. Ruefully he considered the times he'd awakened in the throes of taking Gawain or Tristan. His body functioned well enough even without his mind.
Not acquiring an unwanted visitor suddenly became difficult as he FELT more than heard Tristan creep close to Gawain. There was low voiced muttering and the wet splat as Tristan's gear met the ground. Determined, Lancelot began reciting Arthur's wretched God's sayings, "Thou shalt not ....this.... and thou shalt not.... that", then he began trying to remember the stupid prayers Arthur muttered. It didn't work when the low words began to creep in.
"I saw you once."
Tristan didn't answer. There wasn't a need to say anything, so he didn't. Gawain's voice continued on.
"In the rain. I was out hunting and.... you arrived... there. I was watching ... you..."
Gawain's voice caught. Lancelot knew that catch. It meant Gawain was fighting off hunger, trying to pull back in the maelstrom before it unleashed.
"I what?"
Tristan's voice was idle curiosity, an unfurling flower stretching out to kiss the sun.
"You WASHED."
Gawain's voice was full of ....something. It wasn't surprise or statement .... what was it?
"Ah, Gawain..."
Tristan's voice was full of something Lancelot knew quite well; intimately, deeply, to the bone. Lust. The kind of lust that blossomed into reality in the pulse of a heartbeat. The incarnated form of demonic need, driving you to gratification whether you willed it so or not.