Character/s: Gwaine, Percival, Arthur
Summary: Gwaine is bewitched by a pair of arms.
Word Count: 996
Author's Note: Could have used a bit more time with this. Just barely got it under the word limit. Hope it works okay anyway!
It was the arms, of course. They were so damn...big. And naked. And did he mention big? Percival did it to taunt him. That had to be it. Nobody else went around in all weather with their arms like that, great planks of of wood bare from wrist to shoulder, cords of muscle flexing under tanned skin like roots pushing up the earth; brutish slabs of muscle that could pick up Gwaine as if he were a baby bird and then cradle him with a tender sweetness of care that would probably break him thoroughly.
The man was a tree. A tree Gwaine wouldn’t mind climbing, if he were honest. Quickly and with enthusiasm. And then again slowly, to savour the experience.
It was the sheer expanse of the man’s body that Gwaine held in awe. The arms were just the beginning. There were those massive thighs, the sculpted chest like something forged by an ancient god, the sinewed back whose straining muscles Gwaine could happily observe for hours.
A force of nature was Percival, one that had laid siege to Gwaine’s mind and body with no sign of surrender. Gwaine’s dreams were awash with fervid imaginings, his tongue following a vein up the impossible swell of Percival’s sweat-slicked biceps, his teeth sinking into a meaty shoulder as that brawny body enveloped him, pounded into him mercilessly. The craving to be wrung dry, turned inside out by that hulk of muscle was slowly turning Gwaine insane.
The real kick in the gut was that underneath all that brute strength, Percival was as gentle as spring rain. Always ready with a quick smile, the first to help without being asked, his blue eyes radiated the calm confidence of the biggest man in any room. Percival didn’t have to prove anything to anyone and he always had your back. He was sweet, warmhearted and altogether too good for Gwaine, anyone would agree.
Gwaine’s obsession didn’t go unnoticed. When Percival showed up at practice the next day, distracting Gwaine as usual when he started flinging about a mace like a child’s ball, Gwaine suddenly found himself on the ground, the tip of Arthur’s sword tickling his throat. Arthur grinned down at him knowingly. He chuckled low in his throat and held out his hand to help up Gwaine. He flicked his eyes toward Percival. “Sure you can handle that?”
Gwaine harrumphed something about how he could beat any man on the field and swallowed down his embarrassment. Should’ve known - Arthur didn’t miss a trick where his knights were concerned.
Gwaine wasn’t a man to let such a challenge pass him by, especially from Arthur. The next time Gwaine rubbed elbows with Percival at dinner, he found himself pressing against Percival’s bare arm, leaning into his space, his thigh pasted against the big man’s, knee to hip. Percival smiled at Gwaine’s jokes, his head bent down close and Gwaine’s heart beat swift as a rabbit’s. Percival’s eyes looked more blue than ever in the candlelight; his shorn light hair gleamed blond and silvery. Gwaine yearned to pass his hand over that short thatch of hair, to dig his fingers in and pull Percival’s head back so he could bite and nip at his adam’s apple, lave the strong cords of his neck. A shy sweet grin spread on Percival’s face as he picked at the remains on Gwaine’s discarded plate.
Gwaine gulped his ale nervously, missing his usual confidence. Percival had that effect on him, spun him around until he didn’t know up from down. Through his clothes he could feel the heat of Percival’s body like a Beltane bonfire. The bare skin of his arm rubbed and pressed against Gwaine’s, their bodies sealed against each other all along their sides, lighting Gwaine’s desire like oil thrown on a flame.
Abruptly he stood up, his hand wrapped around Percival’s upper arm. The skin was warm under his fingers. “Let’s go.” Apparently he’d lost all his social graces, but he didn’t care. He needed to be alone with Percival, to look in his eyes and see what he felt, if this was what it seemed.
Percival looked at him open-mouthed. But his eyes were soft and warm.
“Um, I have something to show you in my chambers.” Good one, Gwaine, he thought, cringing.
But Percival rose, his eyes glued to Gwaine’s. “Sure,” he said, a smile still playing on his lips.
Gwaine sighed as a fresh breeze cooled his heated skin. The sky was growing pale; they’d need to be up soon. Percival shifted his arms, pulling Gwaine in tighter against his chest. He could feel Percival’s nose in his hair, gusts of his breath on the shell of his ear. Gwaine was content, a tentative happiness simmering in his chest. For a restless soul like him this was a rarity. He still didn’t quite believe this was happening. But here he was with those impressive arms enfolding him and a heavy thigh draped over his leg. Percival’s strong male scent filled his nose. Just as real was the morning erection that brushed against his arse; his mouth was instantly dry.
Memories of the night replayed in his mind: his own strange hesitancy, Percival’s quiet amusement and unwavering reassurance, the roiling passion that was unleashed when their lips finally met. He spent half the night exploring those miles of smooth, muscled flesh, finding to his delight that Percival’s cock matched the rest of him. The soreness of his arse was proof.
He wriggled against Percival, whose cock twitched and expanded. He felt a spike of insecurity. “You sure about this? You don’t want someone more...reliable?”
“Why? Going somewhere?” Percival’s voice rumbled against Gwaine’s back.
“No.” Gwaine surprised himself, but he knew it was true.
“Then we’re good.” With a growl, Percival flipped them over so he straddled Gwaine’s hips. “But I think I need more proof that you can handle me. Don’t you think?”