Seven Days and Seven Nights
Chronology: Tristan is 29. Raja is 19.
They had just returned back to the fort from a five day patrol. Tristan and Raja stumbled through their bedroom door, locked lips, tongues dancing, hearts racing. It was hell on missions and patrols, so close yet so far away.
Two years ago, before Raja had been drafted into the Roman Legion Tristan would have had to go without - without seeing and without touching her. When they were away she was there in arm’s reach, but it would be foolhardy to take her up against a tree and ravish her. They were the lookouts, they couldn’t just abandon all for their own physical pleasures. It was even more excruciating than being separated. So when they arrived, dirty, sweaty, one so wet her breeches were damp, and the other so hard his breeches were being stretched, they ended up trampling each other like a horde of hyenas in mating season.
Tristan was a passionate guy. In his own way. And when he wanted Raja, he really wanted Raja, which was a good amount of time – all the time. Over the years, a lot of skirts, dresses, shifts, tunics had gotten ripped and mangled. She tolerated it, she didn’t mind the sewing, the mending...but then they would get ruined again. And again. And again. Therefore, before they had gone on patrol, after Tristan had yet again ripped another of her shifts, she gave him one warning, her word: If you rip any more of my clothes, I will deny you for a week. Nothing but chaste kisses and hugs.
Of course he laughed that swarthy laugh of his. He thought he had made her forget that little threat by making her come so many times she couldn’t feel her legs. So when they haphazardly vaulted through their room, clumsily kicked off their shoes, weapons falling to the floor, breeches, Tristan’s armor, all garments shed – save for Raja’s tunic. In his crazed lust for flesh, another casualty was added to the list.
RIP!
Tristan kept going, anxious to be inside of her, but things halted abruptly.
“Wait a minute!” Raja said. It took a couple of tries before her paramour came to his senses.
“What?” Tristan asked, now agitated. He didn’t wait for a response but continued plucking and pawing.
Raja managed to disengage herself from Tristan’s gropes, pulling a sheet around her body. He lay on the bed, flabbergasted, and hard as hell, wondering what the fuck his Raja was doing.
“Ohh,” Tristan said as if it were finally dawning on him. She was playing hard to get of course!
Raja thwarted off his advances. “Not happening.”
“What?”
“Yes, what, Tristan. I am going to bathe.” She took a pair of clean clothes from her drawer and made to the door to wash in the private bath around the corner of their room.
He pulled her back by her elbow. “What did I do?”
She stared at him for a moment, then went and picked up her torn tunic. “Remember what I said before we left for patrol last week?” She dangled the maimed cloth in front of his face.
He looked at the flopping tunic as if it were bait. Thinking...thinking...what had she said?
“You weren’t serious!” he protested.
“I gave my word. What about that implied that I was joking?” Raja gave him that sweet smile, that damned smile that provoked his deepest urges.
He sputtered nonsensical things.
Raja nodded, smiling, and patted Tristan on the shoulder before she headed for the bath. He stood there and watched her leave.
A few moments later, after Tristan had gotten over his initial consternation, he burst his way through the door of the bath, still naked, and stood there watching her languish in the water.
“You would deny me, woman?”
She laughed, music ringing in his ears. “Tristan, deny you? Believe me, you will not be the only one suffering here.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Do what? Refuse to sleep with you?”
His face was turning red, and his veins throbbed. When that happened, he was agitated, not angry, but agitated. Miffed.
“Five days, Raja. Five days...and you’re saying we can’t fuck!”
He might as well have stomped his foot and put his hands on his hips.
“I’m not saying we can’t, I’m saying we won’t.” She continued to wash, cleaning the dirt out of her hair.
Before he could speak, she put a finger up, “But, our week
of celibacy does not start until
Not entirely mollified, he got what she was saying. They
could fuck now...but once it was
“That’s right,” she said, as if reading his thoughts. “So fuck me good and hard, because when it’s time, the only thing that is going to pleasure you, is your hand.”
DAY ONE
And so he had, fucked her good and hard, that is. Five days of pent up sexual frustration were well made up for, seven, ten times...he lost count. Tristan figured all his expertise in pleasing her anatomy might have rocked that notion of week long abstinence out of her head – such was not the case. Upon awaking, his hands cupped her breasts, slid down to her nether regions as he did most mornings. But his hand was instantly slapped away, and Raja got out of bed. He grumbled into his pillow.
“Get back in here, woman.”
“Raja.”
“Hmm?”
“Raja,” she repeated. “No referring to me as woman for the next week, Tristan.” She began to dress, and his look of bewilderment masked his face once again.
Raja laughed. “You still thought I wasn’t serious, did you?” She struggled to get her shirt on. It was a black thin strapped blouse that had become a bit tight around the bodice from repeated rips and repairs. It pushed up her cleavage a bit, something Raja wasn’t particularly used to.
“I can’t believe you’re doing this!”
“Believe me, it is going to be just as difficult on me as it is on you. Unlike you, however, I will have lots of sewing and repairing to occupy my time.” She blew him a kiss, and headed to the tavern for breakfast.
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Tristan walked into the tavern, lines of deep irritation sketched across his brow. He plunked down next to Raja without a word, the rest of the knights wondering what was going on. If Raja arrived before Tristan, he would always kiss her on the cheek before sitting down. No kisses for anyone this morning.
Galahad couldn’t stop staring at Raja’s golden brown cleavage, and he took no pains to hide it. Gawain was doing better a better job. The other four knights were more of the brotherly type to her, so there was no problem there. Tristan gave Galahad The Golden Eye – or so it was dubbed when Raja and Tristan became pseudo husband and wife. The Golden Eye said: Keep your eyes off of my woman or I’ll tear them out and feed them to the birds.
The Golden Eye was obeyed. A little.
Raja ate her breakfast as if nothing were amiss, Tristan just ignored everyone else, drumming his fingers on the table staring at his Raja as if she were a stranger. But his attention was pulled elsewhere, having to give The Golden Eye to other men who were also making no pains to add discretion to their list of attributes. Hell, even Tristan was having a difficult time trying not to ogle her chest! His cock shuddered, it having been denied its usual happy hour – or hours – that morning.
“Trouble in paradise?” Lancelot spoke, breaking through the tension with his whimsical tone.
Tristan grunted before beginning to eat his food that had been placed in front of him.
Tristan and Raja rarely fought, when they did it was usually over something caused by Tristan’s jealousy and possessiveness. And if it wasn’t that it was caused by Raja’s stubbornness to slow down when it came to training, or staying in bed to rest when she was ill.
Lancelot raised his eyebrow at Raja, if any explanations were to be forthcoming, it would usually come from her.
She sighed. “Well, I might as well say it, because this is going to go on for a week.”
Tristan made another derisive sound. Still giving The Golden Eye seconds and thirds around the tavern.
But before she could explain: “Can’t you cover up or something?” Tristan hissed to Raja.
“Why?”
“Everyone is staring at you!”
“Is that my fault?”
“Well, if you weren’t wearing such a tight blouse...”
“You have yourself to blame for that,” she retorted.
“How is that my fault?”
“You were the one that ripped it five times! That’s what happened when shirts need to be constantly mended, especially for women. They tighten.”
He seethed, biting back any sort of remark.
This was amusing to their friends – amusing and confusing.
“You were saying, Raja?” Lancelot prompted.
“Oh, yes.” She gave Tristan a look. “You can expect Tristan to be a sourpuss for the next seven days because we will not be having sex.”
Arthur choked on his drink, and Bors heartily pounded him on the back. Food in hand stopped midway to their mouths.
“Uh...if this has something to do with womanly-” Gawain said.
“No. I gave him my word and I kept it. I told him if he ripped anymore of my clothes, I would deny him for seven days and seven nights.”
Tristan gulped his drink.
“A bit of inspiration from Noah and the
Arthur chuckled at this, still coughing a bit from his drink going down the wrong way.
“Who?” Galahad asked.
“The abridged version,” Raja explained, “Noah built an ark, because God was to make it rain for forty days and forty nights.”
“That is a very abridged version,” Arthur said.
“Raja...that is cruel,” Lancelot said with a shake of his head. “You’re going to drive our Scout insane!”
But Tristan was still giving the men deadly looks, until he could take it no more.
“The hell with it!” He assisted Raja from the table.
“What are you doing?”
“This is your doing, and he’s right,” he motioned his head towards Lancelot, “it’s bad enough you’re forcing me into a life of celibacy, I won’t have other men devouring you as well!”
The knights watched them go.
“Arthur, I think we’ll be needing a new scout,” Lancelot said.
“Why?”
“Because by the time this is over,” he looked sympathetically towards the direction Raja and Tristan had just left, “our Tristan will be stark raving mad.”
The other men mumbled in agreement, and raised their cups in salute.
-------------------------
Halfway through the first night, Tristan had to fight with himself not to turn Raja over and pounce on her.
“Would you like me to go sleep in the stables?” she asked.
He mumbled something and turned his back. He wasn’t letting her out of his sight. She’d change her mind, and when she did, he’d be right there.
DAY TWO
Tristan had Lancelot on his knees, his sword against his neck. They both were dripping with sweat as the other knights watched, they having been bested by Tristan already. One day without Raja had certainly affected the scout to the utmost degree. He wasn’t taking anything from anyone, and anyone who dared challenge him would receive no mercy.
That morning Tristan had – again - unconsciously run his hands over Raja’s. The hand was instantly slapped away. Obviously she was still continuing with the charade, and his morning boner would not be soothed by Raja’s wetness.
After being thoroughly manhandled by Tristan, Lancelot sought out his cousin. He found her in the stables.
“This thing you are putting Tristan through is the cruelest thing you’ve ever done!” Lancelot exclaimed. “I couldn’t imagine a woman denying me because I ripped her clothes!”
She laughed. “What woman has ever denied you anything, Lancelot?”
He pondered that for a moment, and then nodded his agreement. “All right, but that is beside the point.”
“Lottie.”
Lancelot cringed.
“Lottie, if a woman kept ripping your disgusting leather clothes off of your body, would you not be inclined to cease contact with her?”
“I would have them repaired,” he stated. “Besides, sometimes I like it rough.”
Raja sighed. “Then she would do it again...and again. How many times would you like your dead animal carcass breeches stitched?”
He pursed his lips. “I really could not imagine turning a woman away because of that.”
She snorted a rather unladylike sound of derision. “You have many women vying for your attention, and you tell me you would not turn away a woman who kept ripping your clothes for another who would not ruin your dead animal carcass breeches?”
“Stop calling them that!”
“Well, they are. You’re wearing a dead animal, Lottie.”
He chose to ignore that. “But still! That would just be some woman. This is your...husband... sort of.”
“I know you. And Tristan not getting any sex isn’t your main concern, now is it?”
He grumbled.
“You’re just on his side because you are paying the price of his frustration.”
“All right, I won’t deny that. But I am also a man, and I sympathize.”
She patted him on the shoulder. “Endure, Lottie. Endure.”
DAY THREE
Tristan’s cock was sore from getting hard with no release. He had to breathe deep and think of something unpleasant to make it go away. He refused to use his own hand, not when he had a woman.
He watched his Raja atop Odin, hitting the target on spot with her arrows. Other men were watching her, too. She had her hair tied up, part of her back exposed, her tattoo of the Eye of Horus looking out from the base of her neck. Her tattoos on her arms were displayed...on her they were erotic. Her straps were thin, and her shirt plunged in a V, the cotton hugging her curves. No cleavage this time.
She dismounted with grace; the target was pierced with arrows in its center. She untied her hair, and shook it out, those dark locks appearing blue in the sunlight. Raja walked up next to him.
“Your turn,” she said. She appraised him, licking her lips. “The women love it when you men train shirtless.” Raja winked at him.
Tristan’s lean upper body was fully exposed, his mat of chest hair adding to his sensuality.
“And I’m sure the men would love it if you trained shirtless, Raja!” Galahad piped up.
Tristan took a menacing step words him, but Raja’s hand on his chest stopped him. His entire body tingled at her touch.
“No blood shed, Tristan. The ladies are waiting for you.” She looked at the women who were not too far away, waiting for some knightly action. Nobody was allowed in the training area, so spectators were forced to stand a good distance away.
Raja watched her Tristan atop his horse, Dyne, his muscles rippling with every movement, his arrows hitting his intended target – dead center.
“You’re killing him, Raj,” Bors said.
She shrugged. “Four and a half more days.”
DAY FOUR
Three days left. That was all. Tristan refused to appeal to her. It wasn’t working. He had accepted it. It had only taken him three days. The night before he had the most sex filled dream in a long time.
He was plunged into Raja’s wetness, she was screaming for more. More!
“Fuck me, Tristan!” she half moaned and screamed. “Fuck me!”
And he did.
He awoke, his breeches wet with his seed. That certainly hadn’t happened in quite some time.
DAY FIVE
Tristan’s eyes were practically twitching at breakfast. The men watched him, a bit cautious, one wrong movement or word would set the scout off. He was completely tense.
Raja walked into the tavern and took her usual seat next to Tristan.
Every movement was sheer torture to him. He couldn’t help but look at her out of the corner of his eye. He drummed his fingers on the table again.
Gawain put his head in his hands.
Hell, even Arthur was feeling Tristan’s pain.
Even Dagonet had spoken up for Tristan later that day.
“Raja, please,” the giant knight said. “You’re making his hair turn grey.”
“He already has grey hair,” she pointed out.
He sighed. “You used to be such a sweet girl.”
DAY SIX
All right. Tristan’s breathing was heavy. It was the evening of the sixth night. His eyes were twitching something awful. His knee wouldn’t stop bouncing.
When he had walked into their room, Raja was sitting in front of the fire in her nightshift. One of her straps had fallen off her shoulder. She was sitting cross legged, her feet pulled over her calves. Her eyes were closed and her palms were rested on her knees.
“What are you doing?”
“I am harnessing my sexual energy,” she replied.
He could only stand there and tap his foot.
DAY SEVEN
It was dusk.
“Not much longer, my friend,” Dagonet said complacently.
The other knights had wisely taken to avoiding Tristan when they could.
The scout was muttering incoherently in Sarmatian. There were a few choice profane words in Arabic as well. He had taken to sitting in seclusion, sitting at his and Raja’s place in the forest.
He attempted to sit in the stables, but the horses were disturbed by the vibes Tristan was giving off. Jols debated asking him if he could possible go somewhere else – but he valued his life.
Raja wouldn’t allow the horses to be put ill at ease though. She suggested Tristan might feel better in another place. He could only stare at her, his eyes nearly popping out of his head.
It was nearly
Tristan burst through the door, latching it, and dragging the dresser drawer in front of it. Blocking any intrusion. Raja sat on the bed. Then she got up and placed a single chair in front of the fire. She pulled Tristan by the hand and sat him down on the chair. Now that Tristan had her in his clutches, he could only sit immobile, mesmerized by her.
She slowly untied her shift, revealing the space between her breasts. She slipped the straps down – and stopped. Raja pulled him up and took off his belt. His jacket fell to the floor, she ran her hands up his shirts, slowly and provocatively, he raised his arms as she stripped him. She eased him back onto the chair, and then got on her knees. She took off his boots, not failing to notice his breeches crying out, almost fit to burst.
At a moderate pace, she untied his breeches, even the slightest brush of her fingers against his covered dick made him groan to the high heavens. When his cock sprung free, the angels sung on high – if he had believed in angels, that is. Her full lips were parted just so, a little bit. She rose up and pulled Tristan’s face down to hers, licking his lips. He opened his mouth to devour hers, the tips of their tongues touched, then she pushed him back against the chair. As she leaned back down on her knees, her fingertips ran down his chest, tweaking his taut nipples – he almost came then and there.
Raja looked up at him, the firelight dancing in her eyes. Those lips once again parted to show the tip of her pink tongue. She pulled his breeches completely off, throwing them off to the side. She wiped the liquid from the tip of his penis with her finger tip, seductively putting her index finger in her mouth, her lips closing over her finger, licking his cum off.
She ran her hands up his thighs, he could feel her breath on the tip of his dick. She licked under the head of his obscenely hard cock, and damn the late hour, he yelled FUCK at the top of his lungs. Raja’s mouth closed over the tip, her hand gently enclosing his shaft, her other hand tweaking his balls. Seconds later he came, spasms coursed through his body, eruptions of pleased vocalizations reverberated throughout the room.
Enough of this. He wanted her hard, fast. Tristan almost ripped her shift down the middle, but it took all his control to just let it slip off of her body. He lifted her by her buttocks, she wrapped her legs around him, already wet, him hard again. Raja was plopped on the bed, and Tristan wasted no time. Tristan leaned over her between her legs, then he lifted them up over his shoulders as he pounded his cock into her. He thrust into her hard and fast and it wasn’t long before Tristan and Raja were screaming each other’s names as their bodies crashed together. Raja pushed him on his back and rode his still hard dick inside of her hot, tight cunt. His head was thrown back in ecstasy while massaging her breasts.
“Harder!” Tristan grunted.
And fucked him harder she did, climaxing once more.
Breathing hard, Tristan lay on his side, head propped up by his hand. He tweaked Raja’s nipples, rubbing his thumb over it.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
She moaned.
“More?”
She nodded vigorously. He shifted his position so he was on top of her, her legs between his, holding himself up by his arms. He cupped her searing mound with his hand, and licked her nipples. He put as much of her breast in his mouth as he could and sucked. And while he sucked he fondled her cunt with his finger, first one then two. She spilled over his fingers, and he took a moment to suck her sweet nectar off of his fingers. His dick was so hard again it was about to explode.
He could wait no more. He lifted her by the hips and impaled her forcefully, ramming his hardness into her that showed no signs of waiving. He spread her wider, speed increasing. Even after all these years of being lovers, she was still tight, hugging his penis securely whenever he was inside her. Swiftly, he pulled his cock out of her and turned her around, entering her from behind. She felt him deeper, faster, grabbing the bedposts for stabilization against his monstrous – yet very pleasing – fucking. He gripped her hips tightly as he nearly pulled almost all the way out before slamming himself back into her. Raja was soon overwhelmed by her multiple orgasms, heat coursing through her entire person. Tristan continued to pound away until he felt his own cum spill inside of her.
Meanwhile...
“That’s it!” Lancelot huffed, throwing the covers back.
He threw his door open, and walked to Tristan’s and Raja’s room, clad only in his breeches. He banged his fist on the door.
“Hey! People are trying to sleep, you know!”
He continued to knock furiously – in vain.
Lancelot saw Gawain and Arthur walking down the hall.
“No use!” the dark knight said.
Raja screamed something in Arabic, followed by another scream from Tristan in Sarmatian.
“Christ, it sounds like a war is going on between Arabs and Sarmatians in there,” Gawain said.
Arthur yawned. “Won’t be getting any sleep tonight, I suppose. Goodnight.” He walked back to his room.
“Shut up!” Galahad’s voice came from his bedroom.
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Tristan was on his back, and Raja on her knees, her cunt directly over his head. She lowered herself down so Tristan could fondler her with his tongue. She dripped generously into his mouth, and he lapped it up hungrily. She slowly rocked her hips back and forth as Tristan caressed her ass, continuing to drink her dry. Raja came with such ferocity, her juices cascading into Tristan’s mouth like a waterfall.
During a brief interlude, they breathed heavily next to each other coated with sheens of sweat.
“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Tristan told her.
“Do what?” Raja purred innocently.
His head snapped towards her in incredulity. “Woman!”
She laughed, and they rode each other all night. All morning. All afternoon. And most of the evening.