Testing a Knight's Gag Reflex

I bounded down the polished-wood staircase in a hastily thrown on grape-colored tunic, "Do not mistake me for a skulk, Galahad!"

I was still half-erect from Naught's attentions, tenting the rough wool fabric. She hammered a gauntleted fist on the bar-counter and turned to me, the nest of her brunette curls bouncing over her shoulders, "There you are, you worthless whore. You let my steed grow fat!"

"Zephyr's no longer your-" I was cut off by the Naught as she reached the landing above and let out a loud gagging sound "Hueh!"

"Huehhh-!" Galahad immediately responded, actually attempting to toss her stomach and doubling over.

The wet sound made my own gut tremble, and I pulled it tight as blood rapidly deflated from my cock. Naught barked out laughter, she'd tossed on her lace panties, foregoing a bra.

"You-hueh- How dare you," she gripped the counter and pulled herself back to standing, shoulders hunched, and nose scrunched.

"What, did you get a whiff of the shit you tracked in here?" I thought twice and bit my tongue as she doubled back over. Of course she was here, these were her mother's holdings, and I was doing myself no favors in my quest belittling the brat like this.

The tavern was silent, tense. I flashed eyes at Naught, pleading with her to hold off, if just for a moment, then crossed the room.

Her white and red plate was polished to gleaming. She wiped the drool from her chin across its forearm as she rose again, her eyes two raging braziers.

I almost felt sorry for her. That gag reflex was a terrible inconvenience. It had lost her a horse.

"If you care so much about your horse why'd you go and wager it?" I leveled at her. At court these accusations had been a daily occurrence, if I weren't so dog-headed I'd have just given Zephyr back.

"Wha- because I had to! I was the preferred combatant, and I didn't expect you to cheat!" she tossed her curls over her shoulder.

My stomach twisted, "I didn't- That was the audience, you can't handle a little heckling?"

I'd confirmed with a few that Robin was the one to trigger her mid-contest. I was still divided on her intention.

While her well-timed gag netted me a victory and a horse, it'd only served to further tarnish my reputation.

Truth be told, Galahad wasn't boasting, she'd had me on my heels. I half-wished Robin had held her tongue and just let me take my loss.

Galahad pressed an armored knuckle to my sternum, "I refuse to speak to that. You have a square picture of what occurred."

I'd long considered how to make amends. If I just offered Zephyr's reins, Galahad couldn't accept them without losing face. I'd have to renounce the match, admit to unsporting conduct. I had no intention of bearing that dishonor.

"Enough, I didn't come to return your fucking horse. If your wish is to have fists or blades over it just speak up."

My challenge was more a bid for her to shut up. Neither of us wanted word of a tavern brawl between two Round Knights to reach Arthur's ear. Her gauntleted hand pounded open palm into the side of my head and the room rolled.

Naught-

With that I was on my back, straddled by clattering steel, arms raised to my face to ward off the pummeling rain. The strikes continued amid baleful ringing and warm salt flooded my mouth. My eyes shut, she had the upper-hand, I just had to ride this out.

A wet wash rolled over my neck and shoulders, and pungent stink like metal and sulfur filled my nose. Above the ringing came the sound of heaving, "Hueh- huuuehhh---!"

I **** a swollen eye to open and took her in, bile rolling down her chin, face contorted between fury and shame. A form of crimson skin in a milk-white dress collided with her side and sent her rolling. The elf, also her shield, Penance, shouted at her, "Gal what the hell were you thinking?!"

Naughty dropped to my side and lifted my head. The room still spun, "Water you brute, get us water!"

"Wha-?" Galahad was slowly comint to her senses.

Spite filled Naught's eyes and she let out a "Hueh!" sending Galahad into another arched back round of retching, "Fucking cunt..." she ran a finger across my cheek that came away deep red.

Penance approached slow, weathering Naught's ire, and wove an arm under mine, "Let's get her to the well."

I rose to unsteady feet, let the two of them be my equilibrium as we made our way outside. Galahad receded from view and from mind, shortly she was nothing more to me than the reek upon my collar.

I sat back against the well's stacked stone as the two brought up water. A fresh torn scrap of Penance's dress served as a rag pressed to my cheeks. Several deep gouges across them hollered throughout the cleaning but my head was too muddled to pay them any mind. I caught a few beats of the elves conversing, my pink haired companion took her time simmering down from disgust to disappointment. We all needed to sit in it. This was a fucking debacle.

We didn't waste much time returning to our room where I drifted into quiet sleep with Naught curled at my side.

The following morn peeling myself from my pillowing was a process, as was ungluing my eyelids. Naught helped to get me suited, throughout the ritual I noted clunks and whispers outside my door. I knew what was coming and didn't want an apology, didn't care to see Galahad's lost face.

"Want to head out the window?" I asked Naught. She frowned, "You're not traipsing across rooftops half-concussed in full-plate. Deal with it."

"Yeah," I threw the door's lock and stepped into the hall. Galahad stood at full attention, with Penance matching at her side. Part of me had hoped to find them waiting slouched against the wall.

I had a moment of silence, a chance to speak, but I didn't take it. Galahad's mouth opened for a second before she spoke, "I've decided to assist in your charge, in whatever way you'll have me, until you're whole of body."

"I am whole of body," I matched eyes with her, straightened my shoulders.

She winced, staring into the **** she'd painted across my face, "Then until your skin is unblemished."

"I carry no blemishes. This is the art of my service to the Lady."

She didn't argue that point, and instead drew another line, "Then until my indiscretion is forgiven."

"I wouldn't count on that," I turned for the stairs, "and I don't want your assistance."

"I'm not backing off this, now where are we headed," she kept a steady four paces behind me.

"Burweld."