Gwaine and the Black Knight Pt.2
A story from the Round Table.
Having bathed and refreshed himself and his clothing, Gwaine had a brief opportunity to reflect on his situation and the requirements of the challenge he had accepted. It completely filled his mind, excluding all of his duties and the many responsibilities he held.
He had impulsively taken up this cause without considering anything beyond his own self-respect, like a teenager in a brawl and now he was honour bound. He must put everything aside to discharge this commitment. If he failed, he would betray the reputation of the court as upholders of the chivalric code of honour, truth and justice and irrevocably diminish his own special renown as a warrior and as a man.
Who was to know? His man-servant was the only person besides the challenger and himself who knew of the commitment but it was morally irrevocable and that was enough.
During the spring feasting that night Gwaine fulfilled his obligations to his friends, his allies, his fellow courtiers and his majesty, the king. However, he ate and drank thoughtfully, most modestly as those around him revelled and gorged themselves, the way the powerful usually would at such an event.
There were plenty of surprised expressions at witnessing this uncharacteristic prudence and Gwaine was required to reassure each in turn that he was in his full health and strength. Only his page fully understood the consequences of what had occurred. The servant attended his master with great care and when his lord saw an opportunity to slip away, the night wore on and the merriment could be relied upon to sustain itself without missing his company, Gwaine returned to his private chamber.
A fire was crackling and candles lit the simply furnished room with a reassuring glow as the chill spring night insinuated it’s icy fingers into the castle precincts. Even the mightiest of men sometimes needed the sanctuary and reassurance of home.
He would seek counsel. He needed the help of someone who could fully comprehend his predicament with whom he could discuss the possible courses of action he might take but he knew, in the privacy of his thoughts it could only be himself. This matter was so far beyond the range of experience of his contemporaries. Even the elders, retired knights who had fought great battles, overcome magical creatures, made dangerous quests to foreign lands, could not advise in this most delicate of situations.
There was, however, one other person to whom he could turn.
“Will you be in need of anything more, my lord?” Asked the page, half guessing that his master had much on his mind and anticipating that there was no one else with whom he could speak of the encounter with the Black Knight.
“Indeed, Arthur.” Responded the Knight with a haste and energy that belied the lateness of the hour. “I am much in need of reflection on the day, of learning as much as I can about those things I do not currently understand.” This statement alone was placing a great strain on the conventions of relationships between knight and vassal but he knew that this was by no means a conventional courtly situation and he must go on. Summoning all his courage, he said “I would like to question you about what I may have missed and how I might build a response to these things, and what I must learn.” He continued “For in battle we must know our enemy as well as we may, in order to arm ourselves appropriately, to formulate tactics and to train with those arms.”
Then he said “You serve me well, Arthur, often in ways other knights do not require and I trust you to execute your duties and keep what passes between us beyond the hearing of others for the sake of my stature in this court.” Although the young man was a servant, Gwaine knew that Arthur held his reputation proudly and with great care. For all his lack of physical strength and stature he was Gwaine’s loyal protector and far more stealthy than any armed guard.
The young man glowed slightly at the knight’s open expression of esteem for him but as was customary, kept silent and waited for his lord’s command.
“By my impetuosity, I have exceeded the boundaries of my experience.” Continued Gwaine, with unaccustomed humility. “I was drawn into this situation by a hasty response to provocation, which a wiser knight would have simply laughed away or treated with disdain.” Gwaine allowed his thoughts to escape as words. “A diplomat would have honoured the Black Knight for his prowess, flattered his virility.”
“There must have been other opportunities to placate the passions and I should not have accepted the Black Knight’s challenge so hastily.” Hypothesised Gwaine, as much to himself as to his page, who watched and listened intently while his master expressed his feelings with a new freedom.
“Perhaps,” Proposed the knight “This is a test of some kind.” Said Gwaine, pensively. “A test I am in danger of failing if I cannot control my temper.”
“Perhaps this Black Knight is not a man at all but a demon or, if a man, a man under an enchantment.” Postulated Gwaine. “How am I to know?”
This question to the ether, or to the room, perhaps to the crackling fire, gave Arthur an etiquette opportunity to speak.
“Though I have not your experience of such things, my lord, what I saw was a man. Not just a man, but such a man as yourself. Strong in body, great in stature, respected for his prowess as a warrior and gifted with a great and potent virility. A rarity, my lord.”
Wrong footed by this answer to what had been a rhetorical question, Gwaine with unsuspecting and instinctive frankness asked “Is this why the Black Knight felt compelled to challenge me? A rivalry of manhood? A test of virility? Who has the biggest cock? Who the most cum?”
Thinking very carefully for a moment but responding as quickly as he could in order to not forfeit his opportunity to speak, Arthur answered “My lord, if you were school rivals or journeymen knights with something to prove, then perhaps such a simple explanation would fit but you are a knight of great renown and a knight of the round table. There is something more to this challenge.”
“This is surely true.” Admitted Gwaine, allowing his racing thoughts to accept Arthur’s suggestion. “Speak on.”
Arthur trod carefully. “As a witness to these events, I see great similarities between yourself and the Black Knight which might suggest a simple rivalry but he came to you expressing himself in the most lewd and sexual way imaginable. So much so that until the moment when he insulted you, you thought his behaviour a comedy.”
“Might I suggest, my lord, that a man more given, shall we say, to a playful attitude to the pleasures of the flesh, could have enjoyed the comedy more fully.”
“Are you suggesting that I should have just lapped up the braggart’s cum snot and then taken his cock up my arse?” Roared Gwaine in indignant fury.
Arthur took a terrified step back, fearing for his life.
Gwaine’s head throbbed. His massive chest heaved with cathartic emotion and his bulging eyes filled with resentful tears of frustration as he realised, to his horror, that though this was not exactly what he had done, it was a close approximation of what he had, by his impetuosity, committed himself to do. The flashing memories of his proud head lying in a pool of another man’s semen and body hair.
Arthur streamed his own flashback, a slow motion replay of the Black Knight’s dripping fingers feeding that very same semen to the semi conscious Gwaine.
There was no undoing what had been done and both men realised this. For Arthur, no unseeing what he had seen and now he was witnessing the anguish written all over his master’s handsome, bearded face as if the knight had lost everything in a single moment.
“My lord, your life as a knight constrains you. Your responsibilities are great, your duties to your king and country are endless. You take these burdens up tirelessly. This matter will be resolved.” Arthur tried to fill the void.
“The Black Knight has somehow survived my onslaught. How could that be?” Moaned Gwaine “And now I must submit to him. Not merely to be his cunt but to be ripped open like a traitor!”
He knew he was on perilously thin ice but young Arthur had to press on for the sake of his master’s sanity. “I propose my lord,” said Arthur with as much gravity as he could summon, “That the Black Knight had knowledge of what to expect today. Had confidence that he could survive it.” Then almost quoting his own master “As you say my lord, we must know our enemy, we must arm ourselves appropriately and train ourselves in order to endure. This is, I believe, what the Black Knight has done before presenting himself here.”
Gwaine heard and understood the logic he himself had used ” I know that the right physical and mental training can overcome almost any obstacle.” He affirmed “But what is his motive by such an action, if not merely a proof of superiority.”
“I believe, my lord, that having heard the stories of how so many enemies have spilled their information and their guts here, he was made curious to see if it might be survived.” Proposed Arthur. “Furthermore I believe he was curious about you.”
“There are many, brutal ways to extract a confession.” Said Gwaine, defensively. “Many horrors I could name and their perpetrators.”
“Quite so, my lord. However, the manner in which you serve your king, in this regard, is unique in its exploitation of your…….” Arthur paused subtly while his master followed the direction of his thinking.
“My cock!” Blurted Gwaine. “The Black Knight wanted my cock!”
“Yyyyeeesss…” Admitted Arthur “I do believe that he had or has a wild desire for you,” hoping to avoid such candour. “However, I believe there’s more to it than that. I think the Black Knight may have wondered if you derive sexual pleasure from your interrogations or how else you might derive sexual pleasure given that you use sex as a weapon of torture.”
“You think his motive is to answer these questions? Asked Gwaine with a pained expression.
“It may be that simple,” Granted Arthur “But we may be missing something.”
“So we understand our adversary a little more,” Cautioned Gwaine “But there is more to know.
Then, to the page’s great surprise, the knight grasped Arthur at each shoulder with his meaty hands, looking down into his gentle, timid face with a grim determination and said ” Have no fear, I would understand it all before I face the Black Knight again and anything you know about how I might overcome this ordeal.”
“Tomorrow we will begin.”
***
“In becoming a knight,” Said Gwaine at his breakfast, to himself as much as to his page, “We learn courage and strength in arms, loyalty to and trust in our king, rivalry between our menfolk and tenderness towards our womenfolk.” Then, somewhat pensively, he went on,”To submit to another is seen as defeat even death and an indelible blemish on our honour.”
There was a prolonged and thoughtful silence, during which the young page willed the thoughts of the great champion of arms to continue down this path to enlightenment.
“The Black Knight came to me with all the pride and confidence one would expect of a challenger.” Procrastinated Gwaine aloud once more.” There being no animosity between us, no cause for feuding.”
Arthur knew where this was leading but kept a servant’s silent duty, allowing the knight sufficient room to stumble upon the obstacles to his understanding and in so doing not have to humble himself by taking the advice that Arthur could readily have given.
“He was bold.” Admitted Gwaine. “Yet his challenge is all about submission.” He puzzled, scratching his wildly touseled head. “In manly ways, he conducted himself with great courage like one bearing his breast for the dagger to strike.” Confusion contorted his brow. “He invited the blow, welcomed the blow and when it came he survived it. ” Pausing for his words to catch up with his deductions. “No!” He caught himself. “No. He relished it!”
As his thoughts stumbled on, he murmured, “There was no flinching in his submission to me but a revery.” Struggling with his limited knowledge of human feelings “Not the elation one feels in victory but pride of sorts.”
The page continued to wait his moment which he knew would come, when this dark avenue of thought came to a blind alley.
“If any, it is I who feel defeated, for his part of the bargain is fulfilled and in my arrogance I thought not a thing about my ability to complete my part in it and now somehow I must prepare.” At this timorous remark he stopped and stared at the spring sunshine beyond his window.
It was as if the daylight had broken through into Gwaine’s dark thoughts with a sudden reason and order to this jumble of ideas and information. He suddenly uttered, “I must learn what it is to revel in this submission.” Then, with a smile that puckered the deeply cleft dimple in his bristling chin, he continued, “I must learn what makes a man want another man to break his body in this way and I must learn to enjoy every part of it.”
Arthur saw this change in his master’s face and understood how seriously the great man regarded this undertaking. Knights at court were the security system of the kingdom. They trained constantly for battle, expected to engage in the defence of the king and the court at any moment when they were not on a mission beyond the castle walls. The life of his master was as austere, at least in an emotional sense, as that of a monk and Arthur knew that Gwaine’s only outlet for what must be a considerable sexual appetite were these violent, explosive sessions where his body was used as an instrument of torture in a most brutal way.
As always, Gwaine’s page, Arthur, was in attendance at these duties, preparing Gwaine, undressing him, cleaning him up afterwards. He was party to every tiny detail of what went on and in a dark place inside himself he admitted that he loved the sight of his master naked, he loved the power of the massively muscled masculinity of this beast of a fighting man. His raw power, the hormonal rush of his sex, unleashing that monster cock and the shear animal magnetism of the way his magnificent form moved in readiness for his duty. The bald, pale upward curve of that gigantic erection contrasting with the tangled, dense, dark forest of body hair that swirled over almost every inch of Gwaine’s herculean body, his bearded face, the tumbling locks framing what little skin was left exposed on his ruggedly handsome face. Arthur could certainly enjoy almost everything about his master’s body and the bodies of the other men in the royal guard and now his master wished to learn how to enjoy it too.
Arthur’s mind was as full of the events of the previous day as Gwaine’s own. Not least because of the much needed relief afforded by the two guards who had also witnessed the scene between Gwaine and the Black knight. Something in the air, something primordial in it’s sexual power had driven the three witnesses quite mad with lust tearing down their inhibitions uncontrollably exposing their senses to the torrent of heat and heaving man-flesh. Watching from the shadows, scenting ejaculated bodily fluids and the need to relieve that pent up sexual frustration in themselves, touching each other in ways they could never have dared.
Gwaine saw the faraway look in Arthur’s eyes as his servant was lost in running his memories of the previous day. Usually so attentive to his master, Gwaine had not seen the young man so distracted. Then it was gone, Arthur was back in the room, his master staring at him and helplessly Arthur blushed to his boots with embarrassment. What had his master seen?
The Knight pushed himself away from the Oak table and got to his feet.
“Will that be all my lord?” Managed Arthur, sheepishly
“We have important work to do, Arthur.” Replied Gwaine, with just the hint of a twinkle in his eye and a subtle, upward curve at the corner of his mouth which looked to Arthur like boyish mischief. “We will repair to my lower chamber in a while so that I might begin my training.” Continued the master as his servant nervously awaited a more precise instruction. ” Find the two guards who attended me yesterday have them report to me there directly.” The knight went on thoughtfully, detecting a look of anxiety in the face of his page. “If my instinct is correct, I believe they will be of use in my investigation.” By way of reassurance, Gwaine added “I have in mind an experiment for which we will need a trough of water.”
“Right away, my lord.” Snapped Arthur, glad of the opportunity to cover his anxious curiosity and a throbbing swelling in his groin. He gathered up the remains of the knight’s breakfast provision and slipped out of the chamber.
***
Almost an hour had passed before Arthur reappeared at his master’s side with desperate and breathless apologies for his tardiness. It had been too easy to find guards on duty, though many had sore heads from the revels of the previous evening’s springtime celebrating. However, locating the individuals in attendance of his master required questioning the duty captain, the duty sergeant, armoury master and the keeper of the tavern, firstly for names, Bardwlff and Pistwl, then their whereabouts, then having them relieved of their duties in order to attend Sir Gwaine. Fortunately, before this protracted runaround, Arthur had arranged the other preparations and all was now ready as his master had requested.
Once more, torches cast pools of flickering light into the dimness of the lower chamber and the brief shaft of daylight from the doorway was cut off momentarily, as Gwaine’s great bulk entered the room and then again and finally as Arthur closed the door behind him turned the broad iron key noisily in the lock and slid the wooden shutter closed, completing the isolation of the room from the bustling business of the working life of the castle beyond.
The sinister presence of the torture sling dangled in familiar gloom and the crude table could just be seen alongside it bearing the small bowl of herb infused tallow ointment.
The two guards snapped to attention when master and servant entered. Gwaine noticed immediately a nervous look in their eyes. Arthur too was tense. All were concerned that there was no prisoner to interrogate. Perhaps one of the king’s men was to be chosen for the Knight’s questioning, perhaps all three of them were to be punished for their indiscretions in the shadows?
“At ease, men!” Barked Gwaine with the familiarity of military command. “Names?”
“Bardwlff, SAH!” Bellowed the taller of the two.
“Pistwl, Sir!” Snapped the other almost at the same time.
“When was the last time either of you had a bath?” Asked the Knight, with a slight smirk crossing his broad face.
The two men looked at one another with the same blank bewilderment.
“As I thought.” Tutted Gwaine. “Right! Strip and in the tub. I want the pair of you cleaner than you’ve ever been.”
The pair of soldiers hesitated only seconds before grasping at their uniforms and hauling off thick woollen garments.
Pistwl, broken nose, ginger bearded, shorter and stockier, older than Bardwlff, stepped out into the torchlight first, broad shouldered, pale and peppered with reddish brown chest and belly hair, here and there a darker smudge or strip of scar tissue, he stepped towards the water trough and with a sharp intake of breath at feeling it’s chilly contents put first one foot and then stood in the trough to a depth of his stout calves as his companion at arms also emerged from the shadows. Also bluish with the pallor of winter on his northern European skin, Bardwlff’s face, neck and forearms were noticeably darker with the weathering of the previous summer. His body tough and sinewy, blood vessels visible through his fatless skin, his hands crossed coyly over his genitals Bardwlff picked his way over the cobbles to stand next to Pistwl at the side of the trough.
“What’s the matter?” Chuckled Gwaine. “Do you need to be shown how to wash?”
Without daring to speak to their superior without permission, Pistwl shook his head with a slightly mournful look, taking up a square of rough felt fabric that had been left for the scrubbing and Bardwlff stepped regretfully into the tub, turning his back to the Knight and his page before relinquishing his grasp on his manhood, also taking up a felt pad himself.
“The sooner this job is done the sooner you can get out of the water! Stop snivelling and get on with it!” Ordered the knight with a good humoured impatience. Arthur was mesmerised by the site of the two shivering figures as they began to scrub the salty grime off their bodies. Gwaine caught a glimpse of this fateful fascination as he turned briefly towards his page.
Pistwl had by now grown somewhat accustomed to the chill and scrubbed vigorously and diligently, using the brisk activity to keep from shivering. Splashing with what might even be viewed as enthusiasm. At this, the sullen Bardwlff, spattered constantly by the activity of his companion in the tub resigned himself to his nippy fate and soon realised it was not all bad, though he continued to face away, the pale globes of his arse caught by the warming flicker from the nearby torches,
Pistwl knelt in the tub to scoop water up onto his tousled mop, red brown hair, the water running down his powerful body, making little rivers through his chest hair, when this was done, he turned the felt pad firstly onto his short but rather fat, uncircumcised cock, carefully peeling back his foreskin and splashing water onto the newly liberated, high-visibility head before wincing at the abrasive touch of the felt. He then turned the scrubbing onto the crack of his arse, which he scoured at with considerable urgency as if scratching some longed-for itch. He turned to Bardwlff, half blinded by drips from his hair and said, “Do my back, won’t you, Bard?” nudging his neighbour in the thigh with his elbow while sweeping the dribbles of water out of his eyes.
At this point, it became obvious to our silent witnesses why Bardwlff had faced away from them, because as he turned toward Pistwl the treacherous, downward curving fuck-pole he’d been hiding finally betrayed him and as he turned in the cramped space afforded by the tub, the whole, obscenely swollen organ swept to within a hair’s breadth of Pistwl’s face, the kneeling guardsman being the only person in the room unaware of this lewd, comical proximity. An unaccustomed scoff blurted out of the usually dignified knight and at the same breath a sharp intake of breath hissed from the waiting page.
“Pass me your scrubber then, Pist.” Gurgled Bardwlff in an embarrassed, basso-profundo growl.
As the hunched figure reached up, blindly, holding out his felt pad for Bardwlff to take, he unconsciously raised his head slightly the warm bold hardness of his comrade’s groin pressed firmly into his face. Without opening his eyes he saw neither the fat cock nor the lengthy, dangling ballsack nestling right behind it nor the tear of precum which mingled it’s sweetness with the drizzling droplets dripping from Bardwlff pubic hair onto his lips and chin. Nor did he scent the, as yet, unwashed flesh before him as Pistwl had lost this sense when his nose was flattened in a tavern brawl years before.
The contact between the two was maintained and reinforced as Bardwlff tried his best to scrub the back of his sidekick but it wasn’t long before the abrasion of Pistwl’s stubbly, bearded face on the outstretched head of Bardwlff’s long cock awoke something in Pistwl to what was happening and the eye of Bardwlff’s penis met the eye of the man on his knees in a comedy of accidents that had Gwaine’s massive chest quaking with barely suppressed mirth.
Meanwhile, the gloom concealed Arthur’s acute embarrassment which would have been so obviously written on his hot, red face and the painful bulge in his own groin. His own view of the madcap proceedings in the bath tub being somewhat different to that of his master, when the big man turned to him for the expected confirmation of his jocularity, Arthur barely managed a pained grimace as a hand tried to cover the jutting rod in his crotch. This attracted the knight’s attention instead of the intended disguise, his eyes widened in amazement and before Arthur could pull away he swooped a massive cupped hand forward into the page’s crutch and squeezed the bulge he was trying to hide, eliciting a startled squeak from the young man and a roar of laughter from his already gleeful master. He rummaged around the little bundle, exploring with his fingers.
“You surely have a different interest in the two men in the tub, seeing far more than comedy in the antics of these two.” Chuckled the great warrior as he gripped his horrified servant’s balls, producing another terrified whimper. “Perhaps you would wish to be part of their little farce?” He chortled. ” What say you to three in the tub, Arthur? Guffawed his master as he tugged at the young man’s aching penis with his massive, curious mitt. “Let’s see what you’re made of” A mischievous twinkle in his eye.
Perhaps his harmless, playful handling of his page’s cock and balls had stirred something deeper in him, something he didn’t even know was there but the familiar tension in his own groin, like a bright light penetrating some dim recess of his psyche.
He turned his attention back to the tub where, to his utter astonishment, Pistwl’s face was still nestled in the damp jungle of hair at Bardwlff’s groin but the scimitar of flesh that had been bouncing off Pistwl’s flattened nose was nowhere to be seen and Bardwlff’s powerful hands were pressing the back of Pistwl’s head. as he bucked his hips and the whole banana pumped in and out of Pistwl’s gullet.
Far from attempting escape this sexual assault, the kneeling man held one hand behind Bardwlff’s bubble butt, obviously tickling his arsehole and with his other splashed furiously in the tub as he beat his fat cock.
“Master! Please, master!” Squeaked the page as the Knight’s reaction to what he was witnessing translated, albeit perhaps subconsciously, into an enthusiastic mauling of his servant’s privates, which were still within his grasp. Too late, he tore his eyes away from Pistwl’s sword swallowing trick just as the sticky hot goo seeped between his fingers and Arthur curled his body over in shame and tearful whimpering.
Heated grunts and muffled spluttering instantly switched Gwaine’s view back to the scene in the bath where Bardwlff head, thrown back and issuing bestial curses from deep in his brawny body, his chest heaved and his knees shook as he slammed his crotch brutally into Pistwl’s face and a jet of seminal fluid shot up from the other’s tumescent cock out of sight, down in the bath water, sticking to Bardwlff’s knee and dangling in elastic stalactites from his hairy shin. Pistwl’s gullet contracted and his Adam’s apple shuttled up and down as he enthusiastically swallowed and stroked the long, curving horn which filled his throat.
“Master!” Snivelled the young man in Gwaine’s clutches but the pain of the ring in the end of the knight’s cock allowed the fearless warrior nothing but agony.
“Get this chain off!” He hissed, all humour having vanished from his now tortured face, letting go the damp bundle in his right hand and freeing his servant.
Instinctively, Arthur snapped back to his dutiful reality and focussed his attention on the rock hard constriction of his lord’s cock, bound tightly from the ring in it’s piss slit to the leather strap on his thigh, under knitted hose.
The darting of nimble fingers on his over sensitised flesh, stimulated even more the tormented penis, doubled over, trying to tear the retaining ring from the tender flesh as Arthur fought with the catch to release Gwaine’s chain and thereby his colossal member. Nervousness, dizziness and confusion hampered his efforts as his master began to whine through clenched teeth at the awful searing pain which made him want to yank the chain free even if it meant tearing the ring from his frenulum in a bloody mess.
Suddenly it was free and the relief alone gave Gwaine a rush of elation. his tortured cock head reared up like a wild beast, the broad, silver ring glinting gold-like in the firelight as pre-cum oozed between the fattened lips and onto the thick, shimmering metal.
For a moment, all Gwaine could do was to recover from the attempted ripping-out of his most tender tissue but then rushed in the familiar urge to plunge his gargantuan rod into the hot moist flesh of another human being. His blood roared around his body and thundered in his ears. Without a thought, he swaggered forward to the tub, his massive erection jutting forward like the threatening arm of a battering ram, he grabbed the roiling ginger brown hair of the bewildered Pistwl and guided his grizzled face towards the engorged flesh-pipe.
Pistwl’s eyes popped as he contemplated the diabolical weapon of lust this close up but instinctively stuck out his tongue and lapped up the jewel of cock-nectar glistening from the ring, put his head under the shaft and allowed his lolling mouth snake to slobber over the salty underside of the shaft from base to tip. To Gwaine’s astonishment this soothing took his mind off the obsessive need to plunge his cock with his accustomed violence. Suddenly, all manner of sensations opened up and he felt desperate to explore some of them.
He struggled out of his woollen tunic as Pistwl lapped teasingly at his glans and the dribble of cock-honey that grew there. His target moved and bounced around as the knight wriggled out of his upper garment. Gwaine hissed with passion and pursed his lips with a scowl of intense pleasure as Pistwl grabbed the thickly veined shaft, his course hand reaching barely half way around it’s titanic thickness.
Bardwlff marvelled at the massive, fur covered slabs of muscle that were revealed as the wool vest was finally sloughed off and his commander stood full height and flexed his thickly corded shoulders and huge, hairy, sinuous arms. Instinctively, Bardwlff reached forward as if to confirm what he was seeing as real. He himself was a strong, virile manly animal, abundant muscular strength but by comparison to Gwaine his body looked feeble, he felt magnetised, had to touch. The calloused palm outstretched landed firmly but softly on Gwaine’s chest and swirled around in the course black-brown hair and reaching round up to the fullness of the pectorals, brushing the hidden brown buds of Gwaine’s nipples. Gwaine growled low in the back of his throat and looked down approvingly at the roving hand, his great cock twitching in Pistwl’s grip.
Once again Gwaine, feeling confined, unbuckled the broad leather belt at his hips and allowed it and the loosely gathered hose to slip to the floor. Pistwl immediately brought up his free hand to heft the weighty scrotum that swung free and juggle the egg sized testicles within. Then he reached between Gwaine’s supremely hefty legs to tickle the hairs in the sensitive valley between the base of the nut-sack and the arse hole. Gently, barely perceptibly at first, raising nerve endings, identifying places that Gwaine never even knew existed. His eyes lost their focus and his head began to roll back, his breathing became a sequence of tiny stuttered gasps and that remote place, somewhere between cock and arse began to send electrifying messages through Gwaine’s brain.
When Bardwlff looked down at Pistwl’s skilled tongue lubricating the Commander’s great cock-head, his own cock steadily twitched and fattened. sensing this attention, Pistwl looked up and licked the end of his nose with his tongue and winked at Bardwlff, who, as if on-queue stepped out of the bath and padded round crouching behind his master. Distracting Gwaine by taking the jaw-breaking mass of the knight’s whopping cock head between his lips for the first time, Bardwlff, with a hand on each of the hairy cheeks of Gwaine’s arse parted them and plunged his face right into that magical kingdom of heat and hair and musky smells that await the bold. The moment his tongue touched the knight pink, puckered hole, a spasm shot through that fabulous, fantasy of a body and the whole world crashed through Gwaine’s mind and out through his cock into the waiting mouth of Pistwl. Bardwlff got to work, pushing his pointed tongue into the dark chasm.
Without thinking, Gwaine stuck out his backside and bent his knees to compensate for the height differential, as Pistwl slurped and swallowed as best he could and Bardwlff pushed further in with tongue and lips and nibbling, rummaging with his bristling moustaches and stubbly chin, the bulky foot-soldier wanted to climb right into the warm, welcoming haven that enveloped his face, he was mad with hunger for that luxuriantly furry furrow.
Blast after sweet blast filled Pistwl’s insatiable maw as Gwaine abandoned all care, all dignity to this torrent of tingling lust. He reached back behind himself to part the cheeks of his arse more widely to allow his licker better access, to drive his tongue in deeper and so it was.
As lubricating saliva worked the tightness out of that tunnel and the spasms of orgasm subsided, three or four of the twelve inches of his cock jammed into Pistwl’s hot, adoring, cum soaked mouth Gwaine understood how the Black Knight could want a man at his hole. So when Bardwlff finally stood behind the hunkered but still towering figure of his commander, Gwaine didn’t even think of letting his outstretched, exposed arse slide back into darkness.
The steeply downward curving erection of the guard, so comfortable when sliding perfectly, deep down into Pistwl’s throat, was also the perfect shape to excite that puzzling, tingling locus deep in Gwaine’s body that made such obscene demands of his cock and balls. He knew he needed that particular itch to be scratched and as the dazzling lights of his orgasm twinkled in his vision and his pulse boomed in his head, Bardwlff spat into his palm, lubed-up his bulbous cock-head and thrust his mighty scimitar slowly into his master’s body, where it soaked in the heat and pulsating dynamism of blood vessels, muscles and molten lust.
Gwaine’s jaw dropped open as he pushed out and back with his imagination and felt his hole gape and swallow Bardwlff’s hot rod. That moment seemed to him like the whole of his body ceased to exist, the whole of the world ceased to exist except for the walls of his insides as they sheathed the incoming rocket form and it prodded his prostate for the first time. Jangling nerves fired excited messages and every cell in his body relit in a haze of erotic sensation.
Gwaine was totally unaware of the rolling of his eyes, the gaping drooling mouth his dripping tongue longing for pleasures of it’s own, so enslaved by pleasure was he that when Pistwl finally ceased his nursing on that great bludgeon of a cock, raised himself to a standing position and presented his fat pink sausage for the nobleman to taste, Gwaine admitted it into his mouth with an automated carnality that defied belief. As it slipped between his bearded lips, Gwaine found an instinct as strong and deeply buried as that of a baby suckling at his mother’s breast.
Pistwl was stupefied as Gwaine’s tongue swirled under his foreskin, teased at the piss slit and lathered his super-fat hard on, working back and forth skinning the head, then bringing it back over and nibbling skilfully, teasingly at the hood, sipping the slippery sweet dew that seeped from the cleft at the tip of his glans.
All the while the steady bumping, pumping and grinding of the taller guard, like an hydraulic machine, rubbing firm flesh over his prostate, made Gwaine purr like a gigantic cat, foaming spittle issuing forth from his gobbling mouth and a shining filament of milky, sweet cock-dew stretched from his tremendously rigid cock, like a continuous stream of cum to a gathering sticky pool, gleaming white on the dark flagstone floor between his legs.
If there was a heaven, this was it. At that very moment, in a totally relaxed state of revery and bliss, he knew that he wanted the Black Knight, needed the Black Knight’s superbly lewd erection, longed to take it into his guts and have it thundering up and down the corridor of his bowel, exhaust its owner in a tumultuous simultaneous flood of semen as he had experienced the previous day when he was doing the fucking.
With that galvanising recognition cannoning around in his thoughts, like a stampeding horse in a market place, his body surrendered to the inevitable. As his arse quaked and ripples of anal energy stroked Bardwlff to a catatonic, bellowing climax, flooding the valorous knight’s insides, Gwaine swallowed Pistwl’s pulsing manhood whole and assiduously gulped down a sweet river of the stalwart guard’s best essence.
To be continued.