[FIC] Platonic (Gwaine/Lancelot; NC-17)
Author/Artist: lullabylily
Title: Platonic
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Gwaine/Lancelot, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Gwaine was not getting laid. Until one night on a hunting trip he and Lancelot overhear Arthur and Merlin in the throws of passionate sex. Whoever said the bond between knights had to be platonic?
Warnings: mild D/s, PWP
Total word count: 2.400
Original prompt number: 145 - Submitted by saphira_ll
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: I hope this was what the original prompter was looking for. I did my best to incorporate all aspects, including dirty talker!Lancelot. Enjoy!
Beta(s): han-corrupted Many thanks!!! All remaining mistakes are my own.
Platonic
Gwaine cursed himself for umpteenth time since the hunting party had left Camelot. He was surrounded by three hot men, without any prospect of some good tumbling. He had long considered the whole knighthood to be frustratingly platonic to the point of sheer absurdity. They were all attractive men, benefiting from long hours of training. Thanks to their elevated position there was no shortage of tailored clothing, made from the finest fabrics. Women would gladly throw themselves at their feet... And yet Gwaine was sure that none of them were getting laid. Or if they were, not nearly enough.
In the corner of his eye he saw Merlin staring at the crown prince, urging his horse forward to get closer to Arthur. Well, Gwaine thought, perhaps those two were getting some.
Gwaine was definitely not getting laid. Fear for his fragile position as a knight had kept him from building up a reputation as a heartbreaker amongst the ladies. And a lot of the men were really boys and thus too young. Merlin was only slightly younger and absolutely fetching, but he clearly belonged to Arthur and Gwaine wasn't about to risk his life for a tumble.
Then there was Lancelot; handsome but too noble and virtuous to engage a casual bedwarmer. Gwaine thought Lancelot was still pining over that chambermaid Arthur used to have his eyes on. He'd clearly not seen the embarrassed looks the once star-crossed lovers now shared as they tried to get as far away from each other as possible. Because if he had noticed, what was stopping him? Or perhaps he had more common sense than to go after his friend's leftovers. Whatever the reason, the conclusion was unsatisfying: no sex. And a man like Lancelot, body firm and trim from wearing chainmail... Well it was clearly a waste.
When they decided to stop for the night and set up the tents, Gwaine saw how Arthur’s eyes followed Merlin around as he fulfilled his duties setting up the tents, fetching firewood tending the horses…
“Eat.” Arthur commanded when Merlin finally sat down.
It could be mistaken for a casual command, but Gwaine knew it was concern. Definitely shagging, he concluded.
Not much later, he would discover how right he’d been.
xXx
Gwaine suppressed a satisfied moan as he sunk onto the comfortable bedroll, his body familiarly sore from riding all day. He listened to the subdued noises of the forest behind the flap of the tent. In the other tent he heard Arthur and Merlin talk in soft voices. He heard them both laugh softly and the image of Merlin’s open face as he smiles made his stomach clench. Their talking stilled and everything fell quiet. Gwaine deemed them both to be asleep until the noises started. Soft at first, a soft moan that one might possibly make in one’s sleep. When they grew in intensity, the soft whining noises became unmistakable. They were accompanied by low grunts and there really could be no other explanation: the crown prince of Camelot was fucking his manservant.
"Bloody hell,” Gwaine murmured as his breeches felt uncomfortably tight.
He heard the sharp intake of breath beside him. Lancelot. Gwaine slowly turned around to face him. Lancelot returned his stare with glazy eyes.
Mere feet away Merlin had started chanting Arthur's name, desperate little moans that came out as "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur..."
I became so clear, something Gwaine had only suspected before, that this wasn't just about shagging and finding release. He’d seen love and concern in both their faces and now he imagined their bodies entwined… It made the noises all the more erotic. Suddenly he yearned for much more than just his own hand on his cock.
All the while his eyes had been locked with Lancelot's; the other knight's breathing growing more and more irregular. Gwaine knew that if he dared to press his hand against the man's groin he'd find a hard, possibly leaking member. He didn't quite dare, not without permission... Not unless he was certain the man really felt the need his eyes appeared to convey.
He heard the moment Arthur and Merlin reached their climax almost simultaneously. If only he could stroke his cock, once or twice would probably do the trick. But Lancelot was still looking at him, eyes blown wide.
Gwaine allowed his eyes to drift lower, travelling along the knight's tensed body to the tented breeches.
"I... I could assist you?" Gwaine offered, cursing himself for how uncharacteristically insecure he sounded.
For a moment Lancelot only stared at him blankly making Gwaine groan inwardly; thinking he would have needed to spell it out. But then Lancelot reached out to grab Gwaine's arm, pulling him flush against himself. Blood rushed south as a leg wrapped itself around his back, his groin now flush against the long line of Lancelot's cock.
Shock kept Gwaine from coming right then and there. "This is an interesting turn of events," Gwaine said, as smugness quickly won over his initial surprise.
"Shut up," Lancelot grunted, his mouth latching itself onto Gwaine's own, almost more biting than kissing; a furious licking with teeth grazing over his bottom lip.
Gwaine moaned, his intention to keep as quiet as possible already thrown overboard. He grinded his hip harder against Lancelot's groin, trying to increase the friction of their cocks, wanting more leverage on the man beneath him.
I response, Lancelot shoved him hard; in one swift movement he'd shifted their positions. Gwaine hit his head on the ground but the pain barely registered, not when Lancelot's face was now inches above his, the man's body pressed against this own, determined to keep him in place.
Something heady recoiled in Gwaine's stomach at the ease with which Lancelot had taken command. Lancelot rarely boasted his strength but Gwaine could feel well developed, muscled arms pinning his arms on either side of his body.
His arousal at being overpowered could not have escaped Lancelot's notice because the man's eyes darkened and a strangely devious smile tugged at the knight's lips. "I've shut you up now," Lancelot said, his breath hot on Gwaine's face as he spoke. "Don't you worry, you'll like it when I do the talking."
Lancelot reached lower to suck on Gwaine's collarbone, effortlessly finding all the places that made him shiver and his cock twitch. Gwaine closed his eyes without thinking. It was so easy to surrender. Lancelot's hands were tugging on the laces of his tunic, sliding the shirt from his shoulders. He was used to doing the undressing, the seducing, rendering the body underneath him pliant and relaxed. Being on the receiving end was a new experience. Even though his body was tout with arousal, he already felt the stress of day roll off of him.
Not wanting to remain entirely passive, Gwaine wriggled free a hand, reaching out to stroke Lancelot's cock through the fabric of the man's breeches. The cloth dampened at his touch and the air filled with sex and the scent of Lancelot, smelling like a forest after rain.
Hands worked to take off his breeches altogether and the kiss that followed was needy and urgent. Lancelot hummed approvingly, his fingers tangling themselves into the strands of pubic hair. Gwaine bucked into the touch and Lancelot had the nerve to snicker softly at his desperation. He didn’t disappoint. Soon a hand is stroking his cock, confident, stroking hard and rubbing over the tip with his thumb.
Gwaine already felt his orgasm building, "Argh... Yes!"
Lancelot's hand swiftly moved to the base of Gwaine's cock, circling around it. Gwaine stopped breathing. "Stamina, Gwaine, stamina," Lancelot chastised, "show me what knights are made of."
Gwaine wrecked his brain to come up with an insult; instead all he managed was "Fuck... Fuck..." Beads of sweat ran from his forehead as he forced his body to calm now the promised wave of pleasure was fended off.
"Not quite yet," Lancelot said slowly. His fingers dipped into the seed that had escaped at the tip, dragging it along the length of Gwaine's painfully hard cock and balls until they reached the sensitive flesh of Gwaine's arse and pressed.
Gwaine felt his body jerk at the intimate touch; he let out a strangled moan, barely recognizing his own voice.
"I think you like it when I touch you like this," Lancelot whispered as one of his fingers kept circling the rim of Gwaine's arse.
On impulse, Gwaine spread his legs wider.
"You want to beg me for it, beg me to fuck you open with my fingers," Lancelot said, "and my cock," he added softly, his erection pressed against Gwaine’s thigh making a rush of lust surge through him.
"Jesus!" Gwaine cursed under his breath. He was already an incoherent mess, legs spread wantonly, waiting for the promised press of fingers in his rectum. He needed it.
He heard Lancelot fumble around for something and smelled rather than heard the pot of oil opening. The pressure of Lancelot’s finger was gone, the tent quickly filling with the smells of Lancelot’s muscle salve: herbal and so strong it made him dizzy. Then finally a finger, now cold and wet, pressed inside.
"Yes!" Gwaine moaned. The feeling was not wholly unfamiliar; the path had been treaded before, by fingers of his own as well as faceless shags of the past. But it had never felt like this, like salvation. His body easily relaxed around Lancelot's finger, ready for more. But the stretching press didn't come.
"I know you want it. Say it!" Lancelot commanded, his finger unmoving.
"More!" Gwaine begged without hesitation. "More," he repeated, bucking his hips, a desperate edge to his voice when Lancelot didn't comply.
A loud groan escaped Lancelot's lips and the knight obliged, pressing two more fingers in at once.
The movement made Gwaine's entire body feel on fire. Lancelot kissed his chest, his stubble burning against his sensitive nipples. Lancelot's body was draped over his own, skin touching in many, yet not enough places. Gwaine slung his legs over Lancelot's back, pushing the man even closer against him, making Lancelot's fingers slip deeper into his body. They both groaned.
"Get inside of me, quick," Gwaine huffed, his body tense like a stringed instrument.
Lancelot's fingers wriggled inside of him as he let out a breathless laugh. "You are very bossy," he complained, but when Gwaine's leg loosened their grip, he used the moment to pull out his cock and position his groin.
The push of Lancelot inside his body sent sparks down his spine in a way that was almost surreal. He didn’t come just from being fucked, Gwaine thought, but as Lancelot’s cock moved he could only groan and give into his body’s instinct to push into the thrusts.
“You’re loving this. Being fucked on your back like a maid,” Lancelot’s voice was breathless and hoarse.
Gwaine didn’t reply but his nails dug deep into Lancelot’s shoulder. A huff of hysterical laughter rolled from the knight’s lips.
“Yes,” Lancelot gasped, “you’re so close already.”
Gwaine’s cock was pressed between their entwined bodies and it was pulsing already. His eyes rolled back and moments later he felt boneless, his body tingling pleasantly.
Lancelot’s coherence had degraded and he only managed a mantra of “Yes, so good… Yes!”
When Lancelot finally pulled out of him, it could have felt sticky and uncomfortable but Gwaine was already half asleep, and as long as Lancelot’s strong arm remained draped around his chest, he wouldn’t complain
xXx
The morning was unusually cool.
Their tent smelled of sex, on their bodies, their clothes, hair... There was no way to pass off last night's activities as nothing but a dream. Outside of their tent Merlin could be heard, walking back and forth, saddling the horses and packing their supplies.
He watched Lancelot shove away the blanket, getting up from the bedroll. Pale, muscled body, dark hair dusting his chest, growing darker as it neared his groin, limp and heavy cock... Gwaine observed him quietly. It wasn't just frustrated arousal that had made him give himself so eagerly the night before. If they'd had time now, Gwaine wouldn't have stopped until he'd coaxed that long cock to hardness again.
But it was not to be. Lancelot was in his riding breaches again, pulling a cream-coloured shirt over his head.
"Rise and shine." Merlin's singsong voice sounded from behind the tent. "I need to pack up the tents."
Gwaine rolled his eyes, but got up from the bedroll in order to get dressed. As he reached for his clothes, he felt Lancelot’s eyes on him. When Gwaine turned to face him, the man’s expression was guarded and reserved.
"I feel like I took advantage of you,” Lancelot started, “I owe you my apologies." All the while Lancelot held his head up high but his eyes revealed his discomfort, flitting away from Gwaine's face. Lancelot looked wretched. He still smelled of last night's activities, his hair unusually ruffled, eyes glassy and face pale.
Gwaine struck quickly, locking the knight's head with his elbow and immobilizing the arms and hand behind Lancelot's back. "Listen here, you noble twat," Gwaine grunted, "there will be no apologizing. I'm not some girl you need to send flowers to. You shagged me well and good.” He let go of Lancelot’s head, resisting the urge to let his fingers wander through the soft, dark hair. Lancelot looked at him sheepishly.
“If anything I want a repeat performance," Gwaine reasoned, "soon." He smirked. A flash of desire crossed Lancelot's face and Gwaine knew he would not have to wait long.
When Gwaine exited the tent Arthur and Merlin were standing a little further a field in deep private conversation, Merlin absentmindedly petting Arthur's mare. Embarrassed thoughts of having heard and having been heard flit through his mind until Merlin turned and smiled.
"Had a good night's sleep?"
It was Arthur who blushed.
"It was satisfying," Gwaine quipped.
They rode back to Camelot in comfortable silence. As the day’s ride continued, a soft ache accompanied most of Gwaine’s movements, a pleasant reminder. An absentminded smile seemed to be plastered on all of their faces, a quiet understanding. They said a hunting trip could forge a bond between men. Gwaine was grateful that, at least in part, it wasn’t platonic.
Title: Platonic
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Gwaine/Lancelot, Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Gwaine was not getting laid. Until one night on a hunting trip he and Lancelot overhear Arthur and Merlin in the throws of passionate sex. Whoever said the bond between knights had to be platonic?
Warnings: mild D/s, PWP
Total word count: 2.400
Original prompt number: 145 - Submitted by saphira_ll
Disclaimer: This story/artwork is based on characters and situations created and owned by the BBC and Shine TV. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's notes: I hope this was what the original prompter was looking for. I did my best to incorporate all aspects, including dirty talker!Lancelot. Enjoy!
Beta(s): han-corrupted Many thanks!!! All remaining mistakes are my own.
Platonic
Gwaine cursed himself for umpteenth time since the hunting party had left Camelot. He was surrounded by three hot men, without any prospect of some good tumbling. He had long considered the whole knighthood to be frustratingly platonic to the point of sheer absurdity. They were all attractive men, benefiting from long hours of training. Thanks to their elevated position there was no shortage of tailored clothing, made from the finest fabrics. Women would gladly throw themselves at their feet... And yet Gwaine was sure that none of them were getting laid. Or if they were, not nearly enough.
In the corner of his eye he saw Merlin staring at the crown prince, urging his horse forward to get closer to Arthur. Well, Gwaine thought, perhaps those two were getting some.
Gwaine was definitely not getting laid. Fear for his fragile position as a knight had kept him from building up a reputation as a heartbreaker amongst the ladies. And a lot of the men were really boys and thus too young. Merlin was only slightly younger and absolutely fetching, but he clearly belonged to Arthur and Gwaine wasn't about to risk his life for a tumble.
Then there was Lancelot; handsome but too noble and virtuous to engage a casual bedwarmer. Gwaine thought Lancelot was still pining over that chambermaid Arthur used to have his eyes on. He'd clearly not seen the embarrassed looks the once star-crossed lovers now shared as they tried to get as far away from each other as possible. Because if he had noticed, what was stopping him? Or perhaps he had more common sense than to go after his friend's leftovers. Whatever the reason, the conclusion was unsatisfying: no sex. And a man like Lancelot, body firm and trim from wearing chainmail... Well it was clearly a waste.
When they decided to stop for the night and set up the tents, Gwaine saw how Arthur’s eyes followed Merlin around as he fulfilled his duties setting up the tents, fetching firewood tending the horses…
“Eat.” Arthur commanded when Merlin finally sat down.
It could be mistaken for a casual command, but Gwaine knew it was concern. Definitely shagging, he concluded.
Not much later, he would discover how right he’d been.
xXx
Gwaine suppressed a satisfied moan as he sunk onto the comfortable bedroll, his body familiarly sore from riding all day. He listened to the subdued noises of the forest behind the flap of the tent. In the other tent he heard Arthur and Merlin talk in soft voices. He heard them both laugh softly and the image of Merlin’s open face as he smiles made his stomach clench. Their talking stilled and everything fell quiet. Gwaine deemed them both to be asleep until the noises started. Soft at first, a soft moan that one might possibly make in one’s sleep. When they grew in intensity, the soft whining noises became unmistakable. They were accompanied by low grunts and there really could be no other explanation: the crown prince of Camelot was fucking his manservant.
"Bloody hell,” Gwaine murmured as his breeches felt uncomfortably tight.
He heard the sharp intake of breath beside him. Lancelot. Gwaine slowly turned around to face him. Lancelot returned his stare with glazy eyes.
Mere feet away Merlin had started chanting Arthur's name, desperate little moans that came out as "Arthur, Arthur, Arthur..."
I became so clear, something Gwaine had only suspected before, that this wasn't just about shagging and finding release. He’d seen love and concern in both their faces and now he imagined their bodies entwined… It made the noises all the more erotic. Suddenly he yearned for much more than just his own hand on his cock.
All the while his eyes had been locked with Lancelot's; the other knight's breathing growing more and more irregular. Gwaine knew that if he dared to press his hand against the man's groin he'd find a hard, possibly leaking member. He didn't quite dare, not without permission... Not unless he was certain the man really felt the need his eyes appeared to convey.
He heard the moment Arthur and Merlin reached their climax almost simultaneously. If only he could stroke his cock, once or twice would probably do the trick. But Lancelot was still looking at him, eyes blown wide.
Gwaine allowed his eyes to drift lower, travelling along the knight's tensed body to the tented breeches.
"I... I could assist you?" Gwaine offered, cursing himself for how uncharacteristically insecure he sounded.
For a moment Lancelot only stared at him blankly making Gwaine groan inwardly; thinking he would have needed to spell it out. But then Lancelot reached out to grab Gwaine's arm, pulling him flush against himself. Blood rushed south as a leg wrapped itself around his back, his groin now flush against the long line of Lancelot's cock.
Shock kept Gwaine from coming right then and there. "This is an interesting turn of events," Gwaine said, as smugness quickly won over his initial surprise.
"Shut up," Lancelot grunted, his mouth latching itself onto Gwaine's own, almost more biting than kissing; a furious licking with teeth grazing over his bottom lip.
Gwaine moaned, his intention to keep as quiet as possible already thrown overboard. He grinded his hip harder against Lancelot's groin, trying to increase the friction of their cocks, wanting more leverage on the man beneath him.
I response, Lancelot shoved him hard; in one swift movement he'd shifted their positions. Gwaine hit his head on the ground but the pain barely registered, not when Lancelot's face was now inches above his, the man's body pressed against this own, determined to keep him in place.
Something heady recoiled in Gwaine's stomach at the ease with which Lancelot had taken command. Lancelot rarely boasted his strength but Gwaine could feel well developed, muscled arms pinning his arms on either side of his body.
His arousal at being overpowered could not have escaped Lancelot's notice because the man's eyes darkened and a strangely devious smile tugged at the knight's lips. "I've shut you up now," Lancelot said, his breath hot on Gwaine's face as he spoke. "Don't you worry, you'll like it when I do the talking."
Lancelot reached lower to suck on Gwaine's collarbone, effortlessly finding all the places that made him shiver and his cock twitch. Gwaine closed his eyes without thinking. It was so easy to surrender. Lancelot's hands were tugging on the laces of his tunic, sliding the shirt from his shoulders. He was used to doing the undressing, the seducing, rendering the body underneath him pliant and relaxed. Being on the receiving end was a new experience. Even though his body was tout with arousal, he already felt the stress of day roll off of him.
Not wanting to remain entirely passive, Gwaine wriggled free a hand, reaching out to stroke Lancelot's cock through the fabric of the man's breeches. The cloth dampened at his touch and the air filled with sex and the scent of Lancelot, smelling like a forest after rain.
Hands worked to take off his breeches altogether and the kiss that followed was needy and urgent. Lancelot hummed approvingly, his fingers tangling themselves into the strands of pubic hair. Gwaine bucked into the touch and Lancelot had the nerve to snicker softly at his desperation. He didn’t disappoint. Soon a hand is stroking his cock, confident, stroking hard and rubbing over the tip with his thumb.
Gwaine already felt his orgasm building, "Argh... Yes!"
Lancelot's hand swiftly moved to the base of Gwaine's cock, circling around it. Gwaine stopped breathing. "Stamina, Gwaine, stamina," Lancelot chastised, "show me what knights are made of."
Gwaine wrecked his brain to come up with an insult; instead all he managed was "Fuck... Fuck..." Beads of sweat ran from his forehead as he forced his body to calm now the promised wave of pleasure was fended off.
"Not quite yet," Lancelot said slowly. His fingers dipped into the seed that had escaped at the tip, dragging it along the length of Gwaine's painfully hard cock and balls until they reached the sensitive flesh of Gwaine's arse and pressed.
Gwaine felt his body jerk at the intimate touch; he let out a strangled moan, barely recognizing his own voice.
"I think you like it when I touch you like this," Lancelot whispered as one of his fingers kept circling the rim of Gwaine's arse.
On impulse, Gwaine spread his legs wider.
"You want to beg me for it, beg me to fuck you open with my fingers," Lancelot said, "and my cock," he added softly, his erection pressed against Gwaine’s thigh making a rush of lust surge through him.
"Jesus!" Gwaine cursed under his breath. He was already an incoherent mess, legs spread wantonly, waiting for the promised press of fingers in his rectum. He needed it.
He heard Lancelot fumble around for something and smelled rather than heard the pot of oil opening. The pressure of Lancelot’s finger was gone, the tent quickly filling with the smells of Lancelot’s muscle salve: herbal and so strong it made him dizzy. Then finally a finger, now cold and wet, pressed inside.
"Yes!" Gwaine moaned. The feeling was not wholly unfamiliar; the path had been treaded before, by fingers of his own as well as faceless shags of the past. But it had never felt like this, like salvation. His body easily relaxed around Lancelot's finger, ready for more. But the stretching press didn't come.
"I know you want it. Say it!" Lancelot commanded, his finger unmoving.
"More!" Gwaine begged without hesitation. "More," he repeated, bucking his hips, a desperate edge to his voice when Lancelot didn't comply.
A loud groan escaped Lancelot's lips and the knight obliged, pressing two more fingers in at once.
The movement made Gwaine's entire body feel on fire. Lancelot kissed his chest, his stubble burning against his sensitive nipples. Lancelot's body was draped over his own, skin touching in many, yet not enough places. Gwaine slung his legs over Lancelot's back, pushing the man even closer against him, making Lancelot's fingers slip deeper into his body. They both groaned.
"Get inside of me, quick," Gwaine huffed, his body tense like a stringed instrument.
Lancelot's fingers wriggled inside of him as he let out a breathless laugh. "You are very bossy," he complained, but when Gwaine's leg loosened their grip, he used the moment to pull out his cock and position his groin.
The push of Lancelot inside his body sent sparks down his spine in a way that was almost surreal. He didn’t come just from being fucked, Gwaine thought, but as Lancelot’s cock moved he could only groan and give into his body’s instinct to push into the thrusts.
“You’re loving this. Being fucked on your back like a maid,” Lancelot’s voice was breathless and hoarse.
Gwaine didn’t reply but his nails dug deep into Lancelot’s shoulder. A huff of hysterical laughter rolled from the knight’s lips.
“Yes,” Lancelot gasped, “you’re so close already.”
Gwaine’s cock was pressed between their entwined bodies and it was pulsing already. His eyes rolled back and moments later he felt boneless, his body tingling pleasantly.
Lancelot’s coherence had degraded and he only managed a mantra of “Yes, so good… Yes!”
When Lancelot finally pulled out of him, it could have felt sticky and uncomfortable but Gwaine was already half asleep, and as long as Lancelot’s strong arm remained draped around his chest, he wouldn’t complain
xXx
The morning was unusually cool.
Their tent smelled of sex, on their bodies, their clothes, hair... There was no way to pass off last night's activities as nothing but a dream. Outside of their tent Merlin could be heard, walking back and forth, saddling the horses and packing their supplies.
He watched Lancelot shove away the blanket, getting up from the bedroll. Pale, muscled body, dark hair dusting his chest, growing darker as it neared his groin, limp and heavy cock... Gwaine observed him quietly. It wasn't just frustrated arousal that had made him give himself so eagerly the night before. If they'd had time now, Gwaine wouldn't have stopped until he'd coaxed that long cock to hardness again.
But it was not to be. Lancelot was in his riding breaches again, pulling a cream-coloured shirt over his head.
"Rise and shine." Merlin's singsong voice sounded from behind the tent. "I need to pack up the tents."
Gwaine rolled his eyes, but got up from the bedroll in order to get dressed. As he reached for his clothes, he felt Lancelot’s eyes on him. When Gwaine turned to face him, the man’s expression was guarded and reserved.
"I feel like I took advantage of you,” Lancelot started, “I owe you my apologies." All the while Lancelot held his head up high but his eyes revealed his discomfort, flitting away from Gwaine's face. Lancelot looked wretched. He still smelled of last night's activities, his hair unusually ruffled, eyes glassy and face pale.
Gwaine struck quickly, locking the knight's head with his elbow and immobilizing the arms and hand behind Lancelot's back. "Listen here, you noble twat," Gwaine grunted, "there will be no apologizing. I'm not some girl you need to send flowers to. You shagged me well and good.” He let go of Lancelot’s head, resisting the urge to let his fingers wander through the soft, dark hair. Lancelot looked at him sheepishly.
“If anything I want a repeat performance," Gwaine reasoned, "soon." He smirked. A flash of desire crossed Lancelot's face and Gwaine knew he would not have to wait long.
When Gwaine exited the tent Arthur and Merlin were standing a little further a field in deep private conversation, Merlin absentmindedly petting Arthur's mare. Embarrassed thoughts of having heard and having been heard flit through his mind until Merlin turned and smiled.
"Had a good night's sleep?"
It was Arthur who blushed.
"It was satisfying," Gwaine quipped.
They rode back to Camelot in comfortable silence. As the day’s ride continued, a soft ache accompanied most of Gwaine’s movements, a pleasant reminder. An absentminded smile seemed to be plastered on all of their faces, a quiet understanding. They said a hunting trip could forge a bond between men. Gwaine was grateful that, at least in part, it wasn’t platonic.