The Stables

I do not own Tristan, (much to my displeasure) or the other knights. I do own, however, Falcon and the plot.

Enjoy!


Rough hands pulled her backwards into the shadows of the a stable stall, lips insistent at her neck. Falcon smiled, letting the hay bale she carried drop to the ground as she turned in Tristan’s arms and claimed his mouth, grinning as she pushed him back to the wall. Tristan chuckled, slipping his strong arms around her waist, pulling her tightly to him, trailing one arm up her spine to fist a hand in her red curls, angling her head to devour her mouth.
Breaking away slightly, Falcon ghosted one of her own hands over her lover’s lips, leaning in to whisper against his ear, “My, aren’t we impatient tonight. Couldn’t wait for me to return to the room, my love?” In answer, Tristan growled, pushing off the wall, sliding his hands under Falcon’s behind, lifting her bodily. Laughing, she wrapped her legs around his lithe body as she was shoved into the wall, their positions now reversed. Craning her neck down, Falcon nipped the skin just under the rough Scout’s ear, muttering, “Guess not.” Tristan leaned into her, almost crushing her against the wall, driving the breath from her slender frame as he licked and kissed the pale skin of his lover’s neck.
“Tris… our room…not here…” Falcon gasped, seeing a shadow in the doorway. “Ssh.” Tristan muttered, stilling as an unsuspecting Galahad entered the stable.
“Who’s there?” He called out, wary. Falcon shuddered, trying not to laugh. “Ssh..” Tristan hissed again, burying his face in her neck to muffle his own laughter. Poor Galahad would be scarred should he find the pair of Scouts entwined in such an intimate position. “Oh no…” Falcon whispered, horrified, wriggling against Tristan. “Woman, what?” The aroused scout gasped, feeling the blood in his veins rushing south.
“This is Galahad’s mare’s stall!” Falcon giggled, still wriggling to be let down. The mare in question whickered softly at the lovers, scant inches away.
“What is it girl, what the-WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE GODS DO YOU TWO THINK YOU ARE DOING?!" The youngest knight screamed, the torch he was holding casting it’s light over the pair. Falcon couldn’t help but start laughing, leaning heavily against Tristan as Galahad continued shrieking and yelling, waving his torch about and bearing an indignant and yet horrified expression. Tristan began to laugh too, a deep chuckle working it’s way through his chest.
“..you wait ‘till the others hear about this!” Galahad fumed, storming out of the stables.
“Oh..haha..p-poor Galahad..” Falcon giggled finally finding her legs. Tristan smirked, shaking his head slightly. Pulling Falcon up, he took her hand, pulling her over to the ladders that led to the stable loft.
“You feel like shifting some hay bales about?” He asked gruffly, his eyes possessive as a feral smile lit Falcon’s face.


A while later, as the pair entered the bar, the knights sat at the table cheered, raising their tankards. Falcon grinned, sliding into a space between Gawain and Lancelot, watching as Tristan went to get drinks.
“You have straw in your hair you know.” Lancelot commented dryly as he plucked the offending stands from the young woman’s hair.
“It could have been worse, “Tristan interrupted as he set a drink down. “Just don’t tell Galahad we ‘borrowed’ his saddle blanket.”

Opinions, people? I know it's a oneshot, but it's still nice to know what people think.