Name Your Stakes

Written as a birthday gift for Speak me Fair, an amazing writer and talented artist who spoils me rotten on a regular basis.
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Name your Stakes


Everything about Chaucer was irritating bordering on infuriating, beginning and ending with that smirk - that smirk! - which needed to be either smacked or kissed off his face. Or perhaps both at the same time. Adhemar wasn't sure which would be more satisfying. What would have definitely been satisfying would be figuring out how the blasted Herald kept showing up at tournaments. From what Adhemar could find out the man was not tied to any particular knight and no lords claimed to patronize him. Yet somehow he appeared at every joust, catching Adhemar's eye from the sidelines with that little smirk that drove him mad.

If he hadn't been so much more skilled than any of the other competitors, it might have even thrown him off his game.

He couldn't believe the audacity of the man when he approached him right before he was about to joust, leaning on the rail like he owned the place. Chaucer watched Germaine walk away to prepare to announce him before finally speaking. "You need a better Herald."

The presumptuousness of the statement made him choke. "I need a better Herald? I suppose you mean to say that you think you could do better."

"I could," Chaucer replied simply, stating the answer as if it was fact. "A champion like yourself deserves a champion's introduction. Win over the crowd, intimidate your enemies, that sort of thing. You certainly won't get that from a simpering fop like him."

Adhemar closed his helm, not wanting to give Chaucer the satisfaction of seeing him smile at the words. Germaine was loyal, capable and intelligent, among other things, but even Adhemar had to admit that 'simpering' and 'fop' were both fairly accurate descriptions. "That's a mighty steep claim coming from someone dressed in rags."

Chaucer gave a soft laugh. "Contrary to popular believe, the clothes do not actually make the man. In fact, you might think of me as a monk of the human experience, setting aside worldly cares in pursuit of my writing." He stepped back from the rail as the officials went to drop the flag. "Think about it, Adhemar. I could make a great man out of you."

"I'm already a great man. I don't need your help." Adhemar turned from him with a frown, and won the joust.

"Up for a game or two?"

It was night when he saw Chaucer again, after the celebratory feast. He'd had a little more wine than he perhaps should have, but nothing that would have disrupted his judgement as he stared at Chaucer as he stood at the door of his tent. "Why would I care to dice with a dirty little hack like you?"

Chaucer himself was a little flushed, blue eyes bright and glittering in the light of the moon and the torch outside. "Because, my dear Count, you are a champion. And as such, you certainly have too much courage to walk away from a challenge. Am I right?"

"I'm not your dear anything," Adhemar replied with a frown, but stepped back anyway, letting him in. "Name your stakes."

Chaucer smiled, that infuriating, inviting smirk. "Well. If I win, I get lodgings, food and passage with you to the next tournament. If you win...." he paused, smile widening a little, and he looked up at Adhemar invitingly through his eyelashes. "Well then, you can do anything you want to me."

Adhemar raised an eyebrow. "So I could paint my crest on your arse and make you run naked through the square?"

Chaucer laughed at that, settling down on one of the cushions on the floor of the tent and producing a pair of dice along with a skin of wine. "If you like. But I'm sure you can come up with something much more enjoyable to us both than that."

Things were a bit of a blur after that. The wine was surprisingly good, and Adhemar couldn't help but wonder if he'd somehow nicked it from the feast. He seemed to remember a little bit of dicing through the haze of the drink, and that it was very difficult to concentrate on dicing with a certain skinny blond Herald climbing into his lap, wrapping his thighs around his waist and rocking slowly against his cock through his trews. He didn't remember who won, but in the end it didn't seem to particularly matter. Chaucer's clever little mouth was on his skin, kissing and sucking at his throat teasing him until Adhemar finally caught his face in his hands to draw it to his own, pressing his tongue past those smirking lips to plunder and claim him. "See?" Chaucer breathed against his lips, nimble fingers slipping up to tangle in Adhemar's dark curls. "See?"

Chaucer didn't have a chance to explain what his point was or exactly what he was supposed to be seeing before Adhemar pushed him back onto his bed roll. He didn't particularly care what Chaucer had to say, just that it was far easier to tug his clothes off than to dice, licking along his collarbone and biting down hard at his shoulder, making Chaucer gasp and curse and rock up against him. The man's body was intoxicating, fair and lithe and slender, but without the repulsive softness and frailty of a woman. Chaucer had strength and spirit, pulling Adhemar down against him, his words breathless and taunting and arousing all at once. "You are strong, aren't you? Going to put me in my place, now? Show me what a champion's really like? Come now, show me what you can do to me."

There were necessities that a gentleman always carried, like the little bottle of oil he used to coat his fingers, watching Chaucer through narrowed eyes as he worked slick fingers into his tight arse. Chaucer groaned, head thrown back and his bottom lip caught between his teeth, back arched as he tried to push himself onto Adhemar's fingers. "That's it. Stretch me open for your beautiful thick cock. Come on, my lord, give me more. I can take anything you give me."

That was how he found himself between Geoffery Chaucer's thighs with the blond's caves resting on his shoulders, pressed against what proved to be the hottest little arse he'd ever encountered. Chaucer's eyes fluttered close as he began to push into his body, his hands clenched at the blankets under them, breath coming in soft whimpers as he stretched around the head of Adhemar's cock. His body hugged every inch of his erection as Adhemar finally buried himself up to the hilt, pausing, gasping for breath and trying to hold out against the overwhelming pleasure. Chaucer gave a little wriggle against him, groaning, reaching one hand to stroke up his arm and over his shoulder. "Oh dear god, you're good at absolutely everything, aren't you?" His breath caught as Adhemar began to move, leaning closer to him and bending him almost double. He pulled back so that just the head of his cock teased him, then filled him with a hard thrust that made the blond buck tense against him and cry out so prettily that he did it again.

"Oh god, yes." Chaucer's cries were almost helpless, and Adhemar had to admit there was something very pretty about having the man stretched out under him, his head thrown back on the cushions so that he could see the man's throat bob as he swallowed. "Just like that. Oh god, give it to me!"

"Do you ever shut up?" Adhemar finally hissed, and leaned down to cover Chaucer's mouth with his own, tongue probing deeply as he fucked him. He ignored Chaucer's muffled, pleased laugh, focusing on the heat of his body, the way Chaucer gasped and whimpered as Adhemar angled up into him just so, the way his fingers scrabbled at Adhemar's back. He seemed to be finally without words, keening with pleasure as they moved together, finally bucking up hard against him, spilling hot between them as he clenched around Adhemar's cock.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he thought about how ridiculous it was that this is what it had taken to finally shut Chaucer up. It didn't last long, but Adhemar found he didn't mind all that much, sucking and biting at Chaucer's throat as the blond gasped words of encouragement, rocking with him as the pleasure grew more intense with each thrust. "Come on, my lord. Spend yourself in me. Oh god, Adhemar - !"

It finally pulled him over the edge, and the pleasure broke free, rushing hot through him. He finished with a few hard jerks of his hips, lost in the pleasure of being deep inside Chaucer, finally owning this aggravating slip of a man.

Afterwards he couldn't think straight enough to ask Chaucer to leave, and truthfully he rather enjoyed the feel of the Herald's lithe body curled against his own. He felt Chaucer's fingers stroke through his hair as he gave in to sleep, heard the man's voice, warm and gentle. "Sleep well, my beautiful green-eyed lord."

It occurred to Adhemar, as he rode a little behind the wagon that held his gear and watched Chaucer yammer on unrestrainedly at poor Germaine, that this must be the usual course of things for Chaucer. Show up at tournament, talk or wine or dice his way into someones bed and then get food and transportation in return. It didn't particularly surprise him that the infuriating little bastard would whore his way across Europe, and that he must have been working his way up to Adhemar. But at the same time it was a little irritating, the thought that perhaps he was just another rung in a tall ladder of conquests for Chaucer.

When they reached their destination, Chaucer strode up to him as they were unloading. "This was a fairly equitable arrangement, don't you think? Shall we do it again for next tourney?"

Adhemar glanced over, speaking coolly to cover the fact that he really, really wouldn't mind a few more nights of Chaucer in his bed. "I suppose I could put up with you a while longer."

"Right." Chaucer smiled, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. Too pleased. "I'll get ready to announce you then, shall I?"

"I have a Herald," Adhemar replied flatly, irritated by the presumptuousness of Chaucer's statements and the man's continued attempts to insert himself into the hierarchy of his retinue. "I don't need another."

"Well, then." Chaucer frowned, and for just a moment Adhemar thought he saw hurt in those blue eyes. It was immediately replaced by annoyance, and Chaucer grabbed his small bag from the back of the wagon. "If you'll excuse me, then, I must go see a man about a dog."


The next time he saw Chaucer, he was riding with Ulrich von Lichtenstien, speaking praise of the man like he was Christ returned to walk the earth a second time. Adhemar refused to acknowledge the hurt - what did it matter to him, what the scrawny little bugger did with himself? - but the betrayal, that he acknowledged. Chaucer was going to regret leaving. Him and his scrawny, uncouth country knight.

~~fin~~