Best Knight Ever (A Kinda Fairytale Book 4)

by Cassandra Gannon

  “I’m taking you prisoner.” Galahad unbuckled Trystan’s belt and Trystan shifted his hips to let him. It was simple as hell to get the man naked, once you put your mind to it. “I really should tie you up, like you did to me. It’s fun. But we can save that for next time.”

  “I am your prisoner? That is ridiculous.” Trystan moved forward slightly, because it was his nature to always be in control. “I will be the one…” He stopped short when Galahad’s hand flattened on the center of his chest and pushed him back against the wall, again.

  “Warriors sometimes like to be taken, remember? You told me that, Trys.”

  Galahad wasn’t using much strength to hold him. Trystan could have gotten free with no effort, at all.

  …If he wanted to.

  Instead of escaping, he seemed to become more interested in the game. “No one has ever taken me, knight. You think a virgin can do it?”

  Galahad arched a brow. Using his foot, he nudged Trystan’s legs farther apart, so he had full access to him. His body shifted into a more aggressive stance, pressing against Trystan’s. “I think I’ve never failed at anything.”

  Trystan’s breath shuddered out. “Prove it.”

  Galahad grinned at the dare, happy that Trystan was playing. His free hand found the fastenings of Trystan’s pants. “I’m going to take your clothes off, now.” He leaned up to kiss him. “If you’re in my care, I need to take very good care of you.” His lips slid across Trystan’s in erotic intent. “Don’t try to escape, while I’m busy down there. I’ll just catch you, again.”

  Trystan didn’t fight for freedom. He stood still, mesmerized, as Galahad knelt down to remove his boots and pants. Galahad had never undressed another person before and he found it far more arousing than he’d ever imagined it would be. His hands ran up the insides of Trystan’s bare legs, astonished by the strength of them. His gaze lingered on the straining erection in front of him, proud that he was responsible for it. Wondering if he could…

  “Don’t.” Trystan whispered. “Not yet. I won’t last a minute, with your lips on me.”

  “Oh, you’re not going to last long anyway.” Galahad stood up and began working Trystan’s jacket and shirt off of his wide shoulders. “I’m going to take you hard and fast.” The man’s body was so beautiful. Gryphon’ clothes were designed to fit around their wings, so it was easy to pull the fabric free. Galahad’s fingers still paused to caress the white feathers, unable to help himself. They were so soft and magical…

  Trystan’s patience snapped at the enthralled touch. “Enough.” He automatically tried to move, like he was going to take control and hurry things along. “I cannot wait. I will have…”

  Galahad cut him off. “Nope.” He pushed him back, his hand in the center of his chest, again. “You’re still my helpless captive, remember?”

  Trystan’s heart was pounding beneath Galahad’s fingers. He glanced down at the restraining palm, a speculative look in his eye. “I might… like you holding me prisoner.” He tried to shift away again, testing, and smiled when Galahad held him firmly against the wall. “Oh yes. I do like this. I understand your fondness for being the bound knight in that barbarous gryphon story.”

  “Both roles are starring ones, so they’re equally fun to play. It just depends on the day.”

  “Today, I am your prisoner, yes?” Trystan was now fully engaged in the game. “Now that you’ve got me naked and subdued, make my body come for you.” For a helpless captive, he still liked to give orders.

  “In my hand?” Galahad’s fingers slid downward, drawing it out. “Even though it’s super intimate and kind of forbidden in your culture?”

  “Please.” Trystan sounded breathless now, like he still wasn’t sure Galahad would go through with it. “I need it. Please. I need to see…” He broke off, like he didn’t want to finish.

  Galahad didn’t want him holding back. “Tell me.” His fingertips grazed along the full length of Trystan’s arousal. “Tell me exactly what you want and it’s yours.”

  Trystan groaned, whispering words in his own language.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Um…” Trystan’s eyes were glazed. “Something that I would rather not explain in your dialect. It will lose the deeper meaning and I do not want to,” he gave a sharp intake of breath, as Galahad’s fingers grew bolder, “scare you away.”

  “I don’t scare easy. I’m guessing it relates to deflowering my virginal palm, right?”

  Trystan gave a ravenous snarl, as Galahad squeezed him tighter. “I want to see my seed all over your skin. I want you branded with it. I want others to see it, too, and know who you belong to. The words would roughly translate to this idea, but, in my culture, it does not sound so coarse. It has a less aggressive subtext.”

  “In this language it sounds like you’re about to defile me.” Galahad wasn’t objecting to either interpretation. His hand on Trystan’s chest traced the sharp lines of his abdomen, loving the rigid feel of them. “Are you about to defile me, Trys?”

  “Gods, yes.” His breathing was ragged. “I need to come in your grasp. Few gryphons would allow me to do such a thing. I have never even wanted to try it with another. But with you, the craving is so deep… Please. I need it.”

  “Anything you ask me, I’ll say ‘yes.’” Galahad leaned up to kiss him, soothing the man’s worries. “Anything you want, I’ll give you.”

  “If you had any idea of all the ways I want to despoil your body, you would not make such a vow. I have a vivid imagination and I have spent the past weeks thinking of little else.”

  “Now you’re just getting my hopes up.” Galahad gave him another grin. “This would be a good time to tell me you’re crazy about me, by the way.”

  “You make me crazy. Does that count?”

  “Partial credit.” Galahad’s palm finally encircled his hard, thick flesh. He’d never touched another man’s naked member, so it was a revelation to feel Trystan’s rock-hard desire. His gaze went up to Trystan’s in surprise and pleasure. “Me or adrenaline?” He teased.

  “You.” Trystan’s fist clenched in Galahad’s hair and he gave a choked sound that could only be called a chuckle. “Only you could reduce me to this state, knight. And I truly do not want to scare you, but your innocent expression of discovery does not help me stay in control.”

  “You’re not in control.” Galahad assured him. “This is my show, remember.” He kissed the tense line of Trystan’s jaw, his hand moving. “And I think you’re going to like it more than my usual programs.”

  “I have wanted you since the second I saw that damn TV show.” It was impossible to miss how far gone Trystan was. The man’s massive shaft was fully engorged. “You were so beautiful and bright. That vivid gaze shone at me through the camera lens and I was… lost.”

  “You have nothing but complaints about my television show.”

  “Because it is fucking terrible. …Aside from the magical glow of its star.” He ground his teeth in ecstasy. “P’don, I have not touched another since I first watched you on screen.”

  Galahad beamed, thrilled to hear that. “Yeah?”

  “I tried to find other companionship, but, compared to you, all others were lacking.” He looked dazed, his body completely in Galahad’s thrall. “Even when I thought you were a soulless monster, you caused me many frustratingly long and solitary nights.”

  “It’s not breaking my heart to hear that.” Galahad stroked him harder, because Trystan deserved a reward for that revelation. “So, was I worth the wait?”

  “You are worth any price.” Trystan jerked like he’d been zapped by electricity. “I swear to Lyrssa, I will never recover from my need for you.”

  That was worth more than any award he’d ever won. “Poor Trys.” His thumb brushed over the very tip of Trystan’s desire. Moisture was beading there, because Trystan wanted his touch. This belonged to him. It was Galahad’s greatest victory. “You didn’t stand a chance.”

 
“All who have seen us together would agree.” Trystan panted, dipping his head to nuzzle against Galahad’s temple. “Please, knight. Ease me. I am going out of my mind.”

  “That’s my whole plan. I told you I was great at plans, right?” He twisted his wrist slightly. “This is the ‘me-convincing-you-that-I’m-indispensable-to-have-around’ plan.”

  Trystan groaned, his whole body quaking with need. He thrust against Galahad’s palm, trying to find relief. “Oh gods…” He gasped. “It is a Good plan.”

  “I thought you’d like it.” Galahad’s fingers moved faster and the tendons in Trystan’s neck stood out from his strain to hold on. “I’ll do even better next time.” He shrugged with false modesty. “I can be the best at anything, if I get a little practice.

  Trystan looked down and their eyes locked. “You are already indispensable to me. You don’t have to do anything but be Galahad and I am filled with light.”

  The unTrystan-like whimsy of that statement startled Galahad out of the game. “Really?”

  Trystan’s head tilted, like he was surprised by Galahad’s surprise. “Really. Even if you weren’t the best at this. Even if you weren’t the best at anything. Even if you failed, as you claim to never do. I would still want you and no other.”

  Nobody had ever told Galahad that before. All his life, he’d pushed to be great at everything he tried. To compete at the highest level. To win every medal and every contest. Because excelling was the only way he ever got any acceptance. Being the best meant maybe people wouldn’t leave him. The idea that Trystan wouldn’t care if he failed… that he just wanted Galahad, because he was Galahad… was incredible. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  He blinked up at Trystan and felt suddenly vulnerable, even though he was supposed to be the one in control. “Really?” He repeated, just to be sure.

  Trystan’s expression softened at the question. “Really.”

  God, Galahad was just completely, irrevocably, mind-numbingly in love with this man. “I’m crazy about you, Trystan.” He whispered and he knew his heart was in his eyes. “And luckily for you… I am the best at this.” Galahad focused on proving it.

  Trystan gave a wheezing gasp. “Just like that. Yes. Just like that. Lyrssa help me, I have never been so grateful for your myriad of talents. You are so gifted at all that you try.”

  He knew Trystan was about to come apart. “Ready to admit that I’ve taken you, yet?”

  Trystan’s brown gaze was illuminated with something deeper than desire. “You have taken everything in me. Everything. It’s all yours.”

  Galahad pressed his palm harder against Trystan’s chest, reminding him he was still a captive. At the same time, he leaned closer to Trystan’s ear and lowered his voice. “You know how I sometimes get great ideas? Well, I just had my best one ever.”

  Trystan was struggling to breathe. “Is it the chocolate popcorn thing, again?”

  “Pop-Chocolate is my second best idea. This new one just took the top slot and, since you’re my prisoner, it seems like you should help me with it.” Galahad’s hand tugged with more pressure than he’d used before and he went in for the kill. “One of these times, when it’s your turn to take me… I’d like to be flying.”

  Trystan was in complete support of that plan. He gave a bellow of release that echoed off the walls of the cave. “Galahad!” His eyes squeezed shut as he shouted out a reverent litany of gryphon words, helplessly pumping himself into Galahad’s tight grip.

  Galahad had never felt more powerful. He grinned, continuing to stroke him. “Being defiled is kinda nice, actually.”

  Trystan shook his head to clear it. “Let me see.” He caught hold of Galahad’s wrist, his breathing ragged. Galahad let him tilt his palm, so Trystan could study his own release thick on Galahad’s skin. There was something primal and foreign about the small ritual.

  Galahad liked it.

  Apparently, Trystan was pleased, too. A shudder past through him, as he stared at Galahad’s hand. His jaw tightening and his erection growing longer, again. This really was a new experience for him. Galahad could see his surprise and pleasure and still smoldering desire.

  “What is the deeper meaning of this in your culture?” Galahad asked quietly.

  “I did not release inside your body. My seed is covering your flesh in the open air. To gryphons, there is… ownership involved in that.” Still gripping Galahad’s hand, Trystan pressed it downward, sealing Galahad’s fingers around him, again. “Do you feel owned, knight?”

  “Yes.” Galahad’s palm squeezed. “Do you feel owned, Trys?”

  Trystan’s head went back as Galahad’s hand resumed its work. “Yes.” As promised, this time Galahad had learned enough to be even better at it. “My gods,” Trystan breathed with a rapturous expression, “everything you do is art. Truly.”

  “You hate art, so I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

  “I no longer hate art.” Trystan leaned down to kiss him with proprietary hunger. His lips parted to drink deep, relishing Galahad’s eager response. “That should be obvious.”

  “Yeah?” Galahad nipped his bottom lip. “So, when did this ‘obvious’ change happen?”

  “When I discovered that I’m crazy about violet-eyed artists.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The closest we ever came to the graal was in the third campaign

  We had come across some half burned map in a library and Uther was insisting that it led to the Looking Glass Pool. Now this was very hush-hush stuff. Basically, just Uther and me and Kay, knew about it. Kay died at Mynyn, by the way. Another Good man lost to the hands of those winged devils.

  Anyway, we couldn’t figure the map out. Obviously. It was all but destroyed and covered in heathen pictures. But this Yellow Boot, named Marcus, says, “Hey, that looks like Fisher’s signature on it!”

  Turns out Fisher was this old gryphon bastard, so I’m like, “Great! We’ll find this Fisher and make him tell us where the graal is, right?”

  Wrong!

  The asshole was already dead! We had captured him and he died in a goddamn fire.

  I swear to Christ, nothing is ever easy with those savages.

  “Stopping the Savages” Podcast

  Sir Dragonet of Camelot- Former Troubadour of King Uther and Host of the Program

  St. Ives- The Siege Perilous Hotel and Casino

  Trystan excelled at corrupting innocent knights.

  Even he was impressed with his talent and he was used to excelling at everything he tried. He’d stroked Galahad to completion again and again on the trip to St. Ives. And the knight touched him, too. Each time Galahad found satisfaction against Trystan’s palm or Trystan came against his, their eyes would lock. Then Galahad would lean up to kiss him and it was the closest Trystan had ever felt to anyone. He felt the intimacy and the connection.

  It was beautiful.

  The knight’s body would soon belong solely to Trystan. That was his new goal and Trystan was ruthlessly efficient about reaching his goals. The key was to always have a plan for victory. Trystan still wasn’t saying “yes” to the knight’s continual requests that they have sex.

  …Yet.

  He had already bought a lubricant so he could take Galahad for the first time without hurting him, though. He was keeping it in his pocket, ready and waiting. As soon as he was confident that it wouldn’t matter if his emotions weren’t good enough, he was deflowering the man and nothing could stop him. Soon, all that would matter was how much Galahad’s body craved his touch. Only time was needed to ensure his victory.

  Trystan stood by the window of the hotel room he’d rented, staring down at the busy street six stories below. St. Ives was just about as bad as Trystan expected, only bigger. The knight had been right about his ability to get them inside the enspelled walls. He’d simply had to say that Mordy invited him and the guards had flung the gate open.

  To Trystan, that was a sure indication of trouble. If Mordy’s name engende
red such respect from the rest of the assholes in St. Ives., he was most likely the biggest asshole of all. It only made sense. But the knight was immune to sense and refused to listen to that logic.

  Mordy was currently near the Moaning Sea. When the guards had radioed him, on some mystio-powered channel, and informed him of Galahad’s arrival, Mordy had excitedly assured them that he was headed back to town as fast as he possibly could. He planned to travel through the night to reach St. Ives (and Galahad) as quickly as possible. He insisted that Galahad join him for “brunch” the next day.

  The entire exchange set Trystan’s teeth on edge. Mordy wasn’t willing to even wait a few hours for the dinner Galahad had predicted. No. They had to meet him at eleven o’clock in the morning. The knight had already agreed. It was apparently “only polite to stop by and say “hi” to a fan.”

  Trystan anticipated that polite “hi” would somehow lead to a bloodbath. With Galahad there, it seemed inevitable.

  He brooded about it as he looked out at the bustling street. The large crowds were disconcerting, after so many days of traveling in virtual solitude. St. Ives was basically a full-sized city, without families or law. A city made up of transient, amoral, dickheads who were all addicted to easy, dirty money and Lyrssa only knew what else.

  It was two in the morning, but St. Ives was still a hive of activity. The night sky glowed with aurora borealis and the streets glowed with neon signs. He missed the quiet of the desert. This part of the world was colder and louder and filled with disreputable men. Nobody came here looking to build lives. They just wanted to get drunk, get laid and spend their gold in dissipated ways. The town was eager to sell them any kind of debauchery they could dream up.

  It was apparently a winning recipe for civic growth.

  St. Ives was filled to the brims with criminals, rotten to the core with vice, and bloated on ill-gotten gains. Everywhere Trystan looked there were nothing but bars, casinos, night clubs, brothels, and sleazy hotels. Everything cost three times what it was supposed to cost. Every man he saw was a verified scumbag.