Archive of Our Own ^beta

Lean, muscular thighs.

Muscular, lean thighs.

Thighs with hairs rising due to the cold.

Thighs that need covering and warmth.

Thighs I would like to sink my teeth into.

Tristan shakes his head, ridding himself of any immoral thoughts. He crouches down and caresses the rock he took. Ever since the first light of winter, Galahad refuses to wear pants. Despite the cool air, he wears a skirt and it’s driving Tristan insane. “He’s incredibly hard-headed and impulsive and attractive,” Tristan grunts, throwing the rock into the lake and watching it skip at least five times.

“Galahad is on your mind again?” Arthur’s voice echoes through the wintry forest.

Tristan doesn’t turn, he glares at the lake and takes another smooth rock before angling his throw. It skips seven times.

“He does not listen to anyone. Rather, it seems to spur him on when I tell him off about his skirt. He is obviously freezing.” Tristan replies as Arthur crouches beside him.

“Have you ever thought that he may be doing it deliberately to get your attention?” Arthur also picks up a smooth rock and throws it into the water. It creates nine ripples.

Tristan frowns at this. He hasn't exactly thought of the possibility of Galahad returning his feelings… Whatever this is.

“Why would he want that?” Tristan's mind wanders as the clear blue waters remind him of Galahad's cerulean eyes. How he glares at him when Tristan one ups him during training or when Tristan has a woman on his lap. In the corner of his eyes, Galahad seems to look at him in disappointment and disdain. It always shoots a stinging sensation straight to his heart when he sees that look so he stops entertaining the women that approach him.

But it irks him when Galahad has the audacity to entertain women right after he stopped. Though… it always gave Tristan great joy to have Galahad's attention, no matter which form it was.

Arthur smirks at his contemplating friend. Finally, the endless pinning of his men was possibly about to come to an end and it'd spare the rest of them the agony of watching them longingly look at each other when the other wasn’t looking. “That is for you to find out. Now.” Arthur stands from his position and offers Tristan a hand. “Come, supper has been cooked. We have a long night ahead. Lancelot will be the next watch.”

Tristand nods, taking Arthur's hand and helping himself to his feet. He dusts his knees before letting go and following Arthur back into camp. The first sight he sees is Galahad shivering by the fire, his legs crossed as he braves the cold. Gawain hands him his soup and attempts to sit beside Galahad, but Tristan's jealousy spurs him forward. He grabs the bowl Dagonet hands Arthur and he quickly strides over to Galahad and sits a little more closely than their usual distance; their legs touching. Gawain quirks a brow at him, but Tristan ignores him, opting to stare at Galahad instead. A smug expression permeates the latter's face; a twinkle in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

"Why do you persist in wearing that skirt even during the winter?" Tristan whispers, eating a spoonful of soup. They had chicken stew with carrots and onions to warm the cockles.

"And yet I caught you eyeing my thighs? Care to warm me up?"

Tristan coughs, eyes widening at the blatant flirtatious quip. They've flirted before of course, but this is the first time Galahad's asked to be warmed by him. He unclasps his cloak and drapes it over Galahad's bare legs, heated flesh touching cold. They both feel a tingling sensation on the contact. Tristan lingers, loving the contact, but abruptly pulls his hand away when he realizes what he's doing. “I apologize. I did not… I did not mean to touch you inappropriately.”

Galahad chuckles at how adorable Tristan was when flustered. It’s the main reason he's been wearing a skirt aside from the fact that he catches Tristan eyeing him from afar. “You're fine, Tristan. I appreciate any form of warmth you give me. Thank you for your cloak. I'll return it after supper.”

Tristan shakes his head. “You do not have to. My clothing is warm enough to withstand the cold night. Keep my cloak, gods know you need it more than I do.”

A pink tinge starts from the base of Galahad's neck, rising to his cheeks. Thankfully the fire barely illuminates his face. “Fine. I can just sneak into your tent when I feel too chilly.”

Trstan smirks, biting a carrot. “You forget, my instincts are much better than yours. You cannot get past my tent flaps without waking me.”

Galahad fully turns to face Tristan, stretching out one of his legs to help maneuver himself. A grin plastered on his face. “Is that a challenge? Want to bet on it?”

“I’ll bet 20 shillings that the both of you fuck in Tristan’s tent before first light tomorrow.” Lancelot interjects cockily, earning him a slap to the back of his head from Gawain. “What the fuck?!”

“Stop teasing them. They’ve turned into tomato incarnates.” Gawain shoots Lancelot a stern look.

“If Lancelot is putting his lot in, then so am I. I’ll bet 25 shillings that they fuck in Galahad’s tent before first light.” Bors adds, winking at Galahad.

"I’ll bet 30 that they only sleep beside each other. No fucking, only resting.” Dagonet remarks, reassuringly smiling at the duo.

“That’s enough. They’re embarrassed already. Let them at least eat in peace.” Arthur chides, hiding his amusement behind his bowl of stew.

Both Tristan and Galahad avoid the other’s gaze as they finish their bowls. All the while, their five brothers share knowing looks and secretly pool the money into a box behind Arthur. The would-be king drops 40 shillings and betting that the duo would officially be a couple by first light tomorrow, thoroughly fucked by the other.

~~~~~

Tristan turns in his tent, unable to sleep. He knows the bets of everyone, even Arthur's. Now, his heart beats too loudly. He can barely keep his keen instincts alert.

LubDub

LubDub

LubDub

LubDub

Clutching his chest, Tristan sits up. He crosses his legs and closes his eyes, honing in his senses.

Cackling Fire

Hooting Owls

Clovers.

Clovers!

CLOVERS!

Tristan ducks and rolls over. He kicks his assilant's abdomen and pins them to the ground, their hands above their head. Tristan straddles the person then hears a familiar huff before opening his eyes to see Galahad’s ceruleans adoringly staring up at him.

“Looks like you win.” Galahad contentedly sighs, lying limp and slightly thrusting his hips up to get to a comfortable position. Tristan gulps, feeling himself harden beneath his trousers. “Hmmm, you're as happy to see me in here then?”

Tristan clicks his tongue, contemplating what to do next. “So what if I am? I won the bet. What do I get in return?”

Galahad's eyes widen, speechless. Tristan is flirting with him.

Oh gods he's flirting with me.

Tristan smirks down at Galahad, leaning down. He hovers over the man and brushes the tip of their noses together. “If I knew this was how to shut you up, I would've done it ages ago.”

Galahad's cheeks gradually turn a rosy red and he looks away from Tristan. “You're awfully chatty. You’re usually a man of few words.” He shivers as a cool breeze wafts through the tent, making the hairs on his legs stand.

Tristan notices him and holds Galahad's wrist with one hand before reaching behind him to cover the man's legs. “Better?”

Galahad nods, biting his lip. Fine, maybe the skirt wasn't exactly a good idea, but it always… Always got Tristan to look at him. His feelings for the man started during their sparring sessions as children. Oftentimes, he found himself adoring the way Tristan held the bow or trained his falcon. Most times though, it was the calm demeanor during raids and fights. Other times, it was his kindness to people and animals alike despite the cruelty they had to unleash that has Galahad pinning for Tristan. “Yes, much better. Thank you… Would you…” He cuts himself off, too embarassed to actually say it.

“Warm you up til the morning?” Tristan fondly sighs, getting off Galahad, and tucking him with his blanket. He sits back, leaning on the opposite side of Galahad. “Sleep. You need your strength for tomorrow's battle.”

Galahad frowns, turning to look at Tristan. “You aren't joining me?”

Tristan tilts his head, confused. “Am I allowed to?”

Galahad rolls his eyes, reaching out and pulls Tristan by his wrist. Tristan gasps, falling on top of Galahad as he pushes him on the ground. Galahad grins down at him and leans down so his lips hover over Tristan's chapped ones. Tristan licks his lips, unable to hide how nervous he is.

“If you allow me to kiss you, does that mean you reciprocate my feelings and we become…” Galahad gulps, looking away. Tristan cups his cheek, forcing Galahad to look at him straight in the eye.

“Lovers? Betrothed? What would you like to call what we have?” Tristan rubs circles on Galahad's cheek.

“Betrothed sounds right. You'll be taking my chastity, I expect marriage after.” Galahad teases, pressing his body closer to his lover. Tristan smiles, leaning up and capturing Galahd's lips in a soft kiss. Their lips dance together at a lovely pace before it turns needy. A battle for dominance ensues as Galahad buries himself between Tristan's legs and grabs onto his tunic to pull him in closer, deepening the kiss.

A moan escapes Tristan's lips as his hands travel from Galahad's nape to his sides, wrapping his arms around his torso. Warmth exudes from the friction of their bodies, prompting them to remove their tunics. Skin on skin contact only made the encounter warmer, but both opted not to discard their pants. They do not want to have to pay their brothers.

“I better be thoroughly fucked when they pay for the bet,” Galahad grumbles when they pull away. He lays his head on Tristan's hairy chest, loving the way it feels against his cheek. Tristan chuckles, cuddling his lover and kissing the top of his head.

“Needy, aren't you, my love?” Tristan nuzzles Galahad's mop and hugs him tighter.

“So are you. You just don't say it out loud.” Galahad drapes his leg around Tristan and buries himself deeper into his warm embrace.

“You know me so well. I promise I'll give you what you want tomorrow. We might as well get our money's worth. The wait will make our coupling sweeter.” Tristan runs his fingers through Galahad's hair, making the man snort and slightly sleepy.

“If you say so, my heat source.” Galahad yawns, closing his eyes and enjoying the safety blanket Tristan provides for him.

In the morning, they collect their earnings and go patrolling together. They do spot the Cynric and his men approaching though so they had to ride back as quickly as their escapade ended. At least, despite his insistence on wearing a skirt during winter, Tristan is always there to warm him up… in all aspects.