Meeting of Two Worlds.

Galahad eased the door open. He did not speak. He could see her reflection in the mirror of her dresser, and her eyes were upon him. Quietly he eased into the room, and shut the door behind him. She hadn’t moved, her eyes pinned to his reflection, and holding her top to her chest to cover it. She must have been undressing for bed.

Thinking of it made his gaze swing to the large bed, and his tongue swept across his lips to moisten them. He took slow, predatory steps towards her, his blue eyes once more locked on her reflection, watching to see her reaction as he drew closer to her. Mere inches away he let his hand lift and touch the naked length of her back. Her skin was hot, soft, and she shivered as his knuckles glided up her spine. His fingers moved over her shoulder, and up her throat to her chin. His other hand curled about her hip, and he drew her back into his chest. Galahad nuzzled her hair, inhaling the clean vibrant scent of it, and one of his fingers moved to her lips to touch the bottom one.

Meagan could only stare as he entered and neared, and now the erotic scene playing in the mirror before her hypnotized her. There was such contrast between the chilled metal of his armor, and the heat of his skin. Her lips parted, and the tip of that one finger gently probed within, scraping over the edge of her teeth, and giving her his taste on her tongue. Her lashes fell, but her eyes did not shut completely. She could not look away from the sensual tableau before her.

Galahad could feel the rapid rise and fall of her chest with her erratic breathing. He could feel the heat of her body rise. Opening his eyes he looked at her face in the mirror as he lowered his head and very lightly touched his lips to the fragrant skin of her neck. A small sound tore from her and caressed the finger he teased her tongue with. She fair trembled in his hold, and leaned more heavily into him. Watching in the mirror how they looked at the moment was arousing him more quickly than he had ever been aroused before. When he returned to his world he would inquire about a mirror to put in his room.

His wet finger slid out of her mouth and down her throat. It hooked into the top she had removed and quickly held as covering over her chest. Insistently yet gently he tugged, and she never once considered fighting, her hands letting the top fall to her feet. Meagan’s eyes quickly lifted to the reflection of his face, liking how his eyes glittered and admired her breasts in the mirror. Then both his hands admired the globes, his callused palms tenderly stroking and his thumbs teasing the nipples to erect little peaks.

“Galahad!” she gasped, her knees giving way completely.

In one swift movement he twirled her in his arms, and his mouth captured hers. Breaking the kiss he rested his forehead against hers. “I am not the pious knight you have read of,” he whispered. “I could no more be so than I could leave this room at the moment. Ask me to stay,” he urged her. “You turned away from Arthur, but do not turn from me, I beg you.”

He had showered earlier, and the fruity scent of her shampoo still lingered in his dark curls. The cinnamon of her toothpaste still flavored his breath. It had been so long since she had been with a man. So long since she had known a man’s touch, known the scent and taste of him aroused, and known the feel of him inside her. She did not take sex lightly, and couldn’t give herself to just anyone when she felt a need, but she wanted him. Her whole body quivered eagerly, and her heart pounded. She wanted to touch his warm skin in places she had no access to at the moment. She wanted to taste him in areas that would make him gasp and urge her to do more. She wanted to feel his hips slide between her thighs and his body pressing hers down into the mattress.

“Stay,” she breathed. Her hands fluttered over the armor he wore. “How the hell do you take this off?”

The corners of his lips twitched, and he stepped back from her. “Are you impatient?”

“Yes.” At his raised eyebrow she shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with a man, and I haven’t been with many.”

Galahad reached out when her arms automatically crossed to cover her naked breasts. “Do not. They are lovely, and I enjoy the sight of them.” He very much liked the blush that made her cheeks rosy. He also very much liked how she had not been with many men. “How long?” He returned to removing his armor.

All the erotica books she indulged in, and the few lovers she had had did not make her any less self-conscious about her body. She was not thin, she had a good twenty pounds to lose, and she wondered if it would repulse him once her clothes were removed. She wanted to watch him undress, but that only made her fear that he would put his armor back on and rush out raise its ugly head. She busied herself with turning down the covers on the old brass bed. Shrugging she dared a glance at him to find his chest bared, and his hands working the lacings of his kilt. He was slim, and yet muscular and hard.

Galahad’s kilt fell negligently to the floor, and he lifted a foot to tug off his boot. He hopped a little, cursing softly, and fell onto the bed when it suddenly came off. He heard her giggling, and he dropped the boot to the floor and beamed at her. Grabbing her by the waistband of her denims he drew her down over him. “Why do you still wear breeches? I would have you naked.”

Her cheeks warmed, but it was not simply from shyness. Her breasts were crushed against his chest, and the heat from his skin was thrilling. Pushing up until she straddled his thighs she fumbled with the button and zipper of he denims. His hands caught hers. “What is this?” he touched the metal teeth of the zipper.

“It’s a fastening,” she explained. “Called a zipper.”

“A z-zipper,” he repeated, rolling the word on his tongue. He spent a few seconds pulling the slider of it up, and then down. Beaming he pulled it down, and pushed himself up on his elbows. “Remove them,” he ordered her.

Sliding off him she hooked her hands in the top of the denims, and slowly pushed them down until they fell to her feet. She was left in a pair of small pink panties. Peering up through her lashes she saw he was admiring her, licking his lips, and with a lusty glow in his blue eyes. She felt beautiful, wanted, and sexy just by the way he was looking at her.

Galahad grinned, tugging on the elastic waist of the panties. “What is this?”

“Knickers,” she told him.

“They must come off,” he stated.

Biting at her lower lip she nodded to his one booted foot. “And that?”

With no self-consciousness he lifted his leg and began to yank at his boot. Meagan giggled at the picture he made, and almost laughed aloud when his boot flew off and across the room, hitting the wall and then thudding to the floor. Her giggles turned to a squeal when he pulled her atop him and rolled until she lay beneath him. Galahad frowned down at the underwear. “If you will not remove them…” Bending over the bed he fumbled with his armor, and then returned to her with a sharp knife. He made quick work of the cotton material, slicing it off and tossing them away. He absently stabbed the knife into the top of the bedside table, and fell upon her.

“Galahad…” She stared in shock at the knife handle still quivering while the point was embedded in the table’s wooden top.

Impatient now he turned her face towards him, and kissed her deeply. She moaned when his hips slid between her thighs, and his body pressed hers into the mattress. Her hands stroked the heated flesh of his back, and paused here and there to feel the puckered scars that she came across.

Galahad lifted his head, and his blue eyes caressed over her face. “Do you believe in fate?” One hand lifted, and he trailed a callused fingertip gently down the slope of her cheek to the line of her jaw. “Do you believe that we were meant to be as we are now?”

“Naked in bed?” she asked, amusement making her lips lift in a smile.

He chuckled. “That as well, but no. Our worlds meeting so that we could be together.”

She never had to think to reply to such questions. “I believe that fate gives us a path that leads to a fork in the road, and it is our choices that determine if we go right or left.”

Her answer satisfied him. Tilting his head down he very softly touched his lips to hers. “Meagan,” he purred, shifting his hips and rubbing his arousal against her wet flesh.

A soft whimpering moan trembled off her lips, and her hips swayed to increase the friction. His head dipped, his back bowing, and his tongue touched one nipple. It was automatic the way she arched up to offer him more, one hand lifting to his dark curls and her fingers burrowing deep into the silky locks. His lips tugged on the hardened nub, and the tip of his tongue flicked it teasingly.

He loved how she shifted and lifted to rub more against his body. The sounds she made were getting louder, and they inflamed him. Her skin was lightly scented, reminding him of the scent of night blooming flowers, and the taste of it was all Meagan. His wet lips moved down her torso, his hot breath fanning over the skin he moistened so a small chill made her quiver in delight. Her belly fluttered beneath his mouth, and his callused hands cupped her hips to keep her in place while he blew softly upon the soft nest of curls at the junction of her thighs. As expected she gasped and her hips nearly shot up to dislodge him.

“Goddess,” she hissed at the soft touch of his lips upon her outer lips. She didn’t know if she would survive this. It was too delicious. It would shatter her into a thousand pieces. “I… don’t think…” she panted, lifting her head to look at him as she spoke.

Ignoring her for the moment he slid the flat of his tongue over the slit of her outer lips. Glancing up he met her eyes just before she cried out and collapsed back onto the bed. Grinning smugly he repeated the motion, each swipe going a little deeper until she was sobbing in pleasure and her fingers clawed at the covers beneath them. Galahad felt the quivering of her as she tensed tighter and tighter before her whole body arced and beneath his mouth she spasmed. Sliding hurriedly up her body he paused before kissing her. “Do not think. Feel,” he whispered in a rough purr, and with one hand was guiding the head of his arousal to her opening. When he felt it he pushed his hips down hard, and slid forcefully into her.

Meagan cried out once more, wrapping arms and legs about him. He had her mindless. She could not think at all. All she could do was feel. His harder body over her, his hips pumping against her, the fullness of him slipping in and out of her, the caress of his hot breath over her face and neck, the gentle-rough stroke of his callused hands wherever he was inspired to touch her, and the erotic taste of his mouth after he had tasted her.

Galahad groaned against her mouth, his hips moving faster now. Her passionate responses were driving his lust to heights he had never known before. Wenches in his world lifted their skirts, and some seemed to really enjoy a good tumble in the hay, but despite finding his own release it was simply that, an means to an end. This was different. The louder she got, and the more she reacted the more he wanted her to feel even more pleasure. And the more she received the more he did also.

His hands captured hers, fingers entwining with hers, each gripping at the other, and bodies straining. Sweat began to dampen overheated skin. Her heels dug into the mattress for purchase to meet every thrust and help him reach deeper. Heavy breathing mixed with groans, whimpers, and small cries were heard even over the rhythmic squeaking of the springs off the old bed frame.

So lost is pleasure was he that Galahad began to whisper in his native Sarmatian, the words broken by his harsh breathing and the occasional groan. She was tensing beneath him once more, slowly… slowly… and then the spasms came. A hoarse cry sobbed from her lips, and after a few more harried thrusts he stiffened, his back bowing, and he growled long and low as his teeth sank into her shoulder without breaking skin, but just hard enough to make her own pleasure heighten even more.

They lay collapsed, his face in her neck, and their hands still clasped together. Now they heard the voices from the other side of the bedroom door. As though it were too heavy to lift Galahad simply shifted until his head rested under her chin, his blue eyes on the door. Meagan flushed in embarrassment, and snorted a laugh.

“But it could be that the shadows are in that room,” Arthur argued.

“How long it been since you bedded a wench?” Bors snorted loudly enough.

“We cannot assume anything!” Arthur growled, and it had the taint of embarrassment to it.

“Did you hear her cry for help?” Bors shot back with another loud snort. “Unless Galahad was a little rough and hurt her those were not cries of someone tormented.”

“Galahad is apparently in that room with her,” Lancelot’s calmer voice sounded reasonable. “It has been rather obvious that he wants her.”

“The man’s heart is engaged,” Gawain now spoke. “Arthur, she will not be pleased if you throw open that door.”

“You need to bed a wench,” Bors added. “You would recognize the sounds of a good fuck when you hear it.”

Galahad could feel her blush beneath him, the heat of it scorching his cheek, and he peered down to see the rosy hue making her lovely breasts glow in the low light. Chuckling he pushed off her, and off the bed. As naked as the day he was born he went to the door. Meagan had just enough time to scramble hurriedly under the top coverlet before he threw open the door. A rather bored expression upon his face he wet his lips and faced the knights. “Are you implying I am a bad lover?”

Bors cackled in glee. Lancelot smirked. Gawain curiously looked into the room at the bed where Meagan clutched a coverlet to her naked chest. Dagonet rolled his eyes and turned away. Tristan turned away and reached for the bowl of fruit upon the kitchen table, choosing something to eat. Arthur flushed, glowered at Galahad, and twirled to march away.

Bors winked knowingly. “Sorry we disturbed you.”

Lancelot arched one dark teasing brow. “Could you gag her so she keeps it down a little? We are trying to sleep, Galahad.” Smirking he turned away to follow the others back to the library.

Galahad shut the door, turned, and ducked just in time to avoid his boot hitting him in the head. “What was that for?” he demanded, staring at her in stunned dismay.

“I am naked!” she reminded him.

“Yes, I know,” he nodded.

“You just opened the door to let six men look at me!” she snarled.

Waving that dismissingly away he straightened. “They saw nothing but that you were not harmed.”

Staring at him she couldn’t believe he was so nonchalant about the whole thing. “Galahad! And if I hadn’t covered up?”

At the foot of the bed he sighed heavily, shaking his head at her. “Then they would not have looked upon you.”

“Can you be so sure?” she shot.

Scowling now he threw himself atop her. “Yes, or I would have…” His words were cut off when enraged shouting and a cry of pain came from another part of the cottage. Galahad leapt off her, pulling his sword free of its sheath and rushing out of the room.