After The Summoners
folder
1 through F › A Knight's Tale
Rating:
Adult +
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1
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Category:
1 through F › A Knight's Tale
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,999
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own A Knights Tale, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
After The Summoners
Chaucer and Wat were sitting quietly in their tent. William had been sent off to enjoy the banquet, no doubt gaining the attention of several fair maids. Chaucer sat opposite Wat, contemplating the satisfied look on his face - Wat had a belly full of cream buns. Roland and Kate were nowhere to be seen. Chaucer suspected that they were hunting down night partners. Geoff sighed and wished he had one. He looked at Wat again and grinned. Maybe a partner could be had…
“Wat, help me out. My hand is sore.” Chaucer started to rub his hand. He made a face as he felt the tender spots where Wat’s solid fists had landed while he had protected his face. “Thumping a special skill of yours?” He groused at the redhead, “You do it so well.”
“Help with what? Don’t need your hands to mouth off, do you?” Wat tossed his cushion to and fro between his hands showing his boredom. "And I can't write, so I'm no help there..."
Chaucer grinned, “True, you are an unwashed savage.” He didn't mention that at times he thought Wat's puzzled expressions were cute.
“Unwashed savage?! You shite!” Wat jumped up as if to hit Chaucer and he laughed as Geoff ducked out of the way. “I’ll fong you!” He threw the cushion at him hitting him in the head.
“Give me back my cushion.”
Wat’s attempt at a contrite face made Geoff laugh. He began to imitate Wat’s previous actions of tossing up the cushion, “No. You’ll only throw it at me again.”
Wat slumped back where he sat and sighed, “Well then, I’m bored.”
Chaucer stopped tossing the cushion, “Bored, eh? Well, I can help there. I’ll need both of your hands, your lips and tongue.” His voice became low and seductive.
Wat jumped up and backed away saying warily, “Eh? What?” He was suspicious of the Herald’s intentions.
Chaucer stood up, tossed the cushion on the ground and sauntered forward with a lanky hip swiveling stride that drew Wat’s eyes to below belt level. “I’ll say it in small words, shall I? I want you to kiss it better.”
“Kiss what?!” Wat dragged his eyes back to Chaucer’s as the words sunk in, “Oh, you mean your hand?”
A sly grin crept across Geoff’s face “Something else you’d rather kiss?” Chaucer stopped in front of Wat and held his hand out, “Please, Wat. You know you want to.”
The stunned look on Wat’s face was replaced by a devilish grin as he leaned forward landing a small peck on the bruised outstretched hand. But Wat wasn’t quick enough and Chaucer grabbed his surcoat and yanked him off balance so that he landed against Geoff’s chest.
Geoff grinned as the startled look returned to Wat’s face as he swooped in and stole a kiss. Wat stood frozen as Geoff wrapped his arms around him. Warm lips began to explore his slack mouth, encouraging a response with a flick of tongue. Wat started to feel the languid feeling of desire curling through his body as the sandy haired herald caressed his back and leaned into the kiss.
“This is much better,” Geoff muttered against Wat’s lips. His kisses became more demanding, his hands slid down Wat’s back to cup his backside. Wat’s mind suddenly engaged and he pushed the taller man away.
Wat stood back panting, trying to catch the breath that had been stolen from his body. Geoff stood before him with a mocking smile that he longed to smack away. How dare he make him feel this way! “Mangy git! Stop grabbing at me!”
Chaucer looked at Wat - his face flushed and his body taut. “Why? I liked it. Didn’t you like it?” He asked Wat, who backed off even more and tripping over a rug, fell to the ground.
“You’re grabbing me just like at the ‘sword-on-foot’.” Wat’s angry tone faded as his face took on a pensive look. It was almost like seeing a light come on, “You grabbed me in the ‘sword-on-foot’, when Will won, you hugged me.”
Geoff laughed nervously and pointed out, “You pushed me away then too, remember?” Slow as he was, Wat was getting close to realizing Geoff desired him. To distract the redhead he said airily, “It was spur of the moment. Don’t you love playing to the crowd?”
Wat looked up at Geoff. “Is that all this is? Playing?” Wat wasn’t sure why that pained him but it did. “You were all over William in the arena.” He mimicked, “Do you want to touch him.”
Chaucer squatted beside the squire slumped at his feet. “You’re jealous? No need, Will isn’t into our type of sport.”
Wat pouted, not sure if the smiling man in front of him truly meant what he said, “M’not.”
Chaucer‘s smile widened, “Where’s that cushion. I think we might need it. Come, Wat lend me a hand. Be my wench.” He offered his hand again.
Placing his hand in Geoff’s he replied, “Call me a girl again and I’ll fong you!” There was no venom in the threat, more of a promise. Wat’s smile was evident in his tone.
“Ah fair Juliet, from you it would be as a kiss to my soul.” Chaucer whispered as he drew Wat to him and laid lips to skin.
<>
“Wat, help me out. My hand is sore.” Chaucer started to rub his hand. He made a face as he felt the tender spots where Wat’s solid fists had landed while he had protected his face. “Thumping a special skill of yours?” He groused at the redhead, “You do it so well.”
“Help with what? Don’t need your hands to mouth off, do you?” Wat tossed his cushion to and fro between his hands showing his boredom. "And I can't write, so I'm no help there..."
Chaucer grinned, “True, you are an unwashed savage.” He didn't mention that at times he thought Wat's puzzled expressions were cute.
“Unwashed savage?! You shite!” Wat jumped up as if to hit Chaucer and he laughed as Geoff ducked out of the way. “I’ll fong you!” He threw the cushion at him hitting him in the head.
“Give me back my cushion.”
Wat’s attempt at a contrite face made Geoff laugh. He began to imitate Wat’s previous actions of tossing up the cushion, “No. You’ll only throw it at me again.”
Wat slumped back where he sat and sighed, “Well then, I’m bored.”
Chaucer stopped tossing the cushion, “Bored, eh? Well, I can help there. I’ll need both of your hands, your lips and tongue.” His voice became low and seductive.
Wat jumped up and backed away saying warily, “Eh? What?” He was suspicious of the Herald’s intentions.
Chaucer stood up, tossed the cushion on the ground and sauntered forward with a lanky hip swiveling stride that drew Wat’s eyes to below belt level. “I’ll say it in small words, shall I? I want you to kiss it better.”
“Kiss what?!” Wat dragged his eyes back to Chaucer’s as the words sunk in, “Oh, you mean your hand?”
A sly grin crept across Geoff’s face “Something else you’d rather kiss?” Chaucer stopped in front of Wat and held his hand out, “Please, Wat. You know you want to.”
The stunned look on Wat’s face was replaced by a devilish grin as he leaned forward landing a small peck on the bruised outstretched hand. But Wat wasn’t quick enough and Chaucer grabbed his surcoat and yanked him off balance so that he landed against Geoff’s chest.
Geoff grinned as the startled look returned to Wat’s face as he swooped in and stole a kiss. Wat stood frozen as Geoff wrapped his arms around him. Warm lips began to explore his slack mouth, encouraging a response with a flick of tongue. Wat started to feel the languid feeling of desire curling through his body as the sandy haired herald caressed his back and leaned into the kiss.
“This is much better,” Geoff muttered against Wat’s lips. His kisses became more demanding, his hands slid down Wat’s back to cup his backside. Wat’s mind suddenly engaged and he pushed the taller man away.
Wat stood back panting, trying to catch the breath that had been stolen from his body. Geoff stood before him with a mocking smile that he longed to smack away. How dare he make him feel this way! “Mangy git! Stop grabbing at me!”
Chaucer looked at Wat - his face flushed and his body taut. “Why? I liked it. Didn’t you like it?” He asked Wat, who backed off even more and tripping over a rug, fell to the ground.
“You’re grabbing me just like at the ‘sword-on-foot’.” Wat’s angry tone faded as his face took on a pensive look. It was almost like seeing a light come on, “You grabbed me in the ‘sword-on-foot’, when Will won, you hugged me.”
Geoff laughed nervously and pointed out, “You pushed me away then too, remember?” Slow as he was, Wat was getting close to realizing Geoff desired him. To distract the redhead he said airily, “It was spur of the moment. Don’t you love playing to the crowd?”
Wat looked up at Geoff. “Is that all this is? Playing?” Wat wasn’t sure why that pained him but it did. “You were all over William in the arena.” He mimicked, “Do you want to touch him.”
Chaucer squatted beside the squire slumped at his feet. “You’re jealous? No need, Will isn’t into our type of sport.”
Wat pouted, not sure if the smiling man in front of him truly meant what he said, “M’not.”
Chaucer‘s smile widened, “Where’s that cushion. I think we might need it. Come, Wat lend me a hand. Be my wench.” He offered his hand again.
Placing his hand in Geoff’s he replied, “Call me a girl again and I’ll fong you!” There was no venom in the threat, more of a promise. Wat’s smile was evident in his tone.
“Ah fair Juliet, from you it would be as a kiss to my soul.” Chaucer whispered as he drew Wat to him and laid lips to skin.
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