Lancelot has been playing the Game for a long time. When you’re an immortal soul reborn again and again because you drank from the Holy Grail, there isn’t much else to do than galivant around the globe, accomplishing quests for points and competing against your fellow immortals. For Lancelot it’s life, and yet after centuries he finds himself distracted by a different thrill -- the one he gets from his greatest rival, Palomides.
So when Palomides approaches him with a new quest, Lancelot jumps at the opportunity, even if it takes him to the edge of nowhere, to the deep woods of Wisconsin, chasing after a myth. When the myth turns out to be deadly real, will Lancelot get swept up in the battle and zeal of questing, of playing the Game, or will he find that there’s a different way he’d much rather score?
"The hodag. Something a professional liar came up with back in the day by gluing things to a badger. It's supposed to be something like a dragon, but with a frog's face and great big claws."
"Sounds like a few men I've known." Lancelot laughed.
" Glatisant looks something like that. And in the last few weeks the number of hodag sightings has skyrocketed around here. There's even some amateur video."
"So we're not the only ones looking for it?" If there were normal monster hunters out looking for it, there could be a problem. Part of the game was to not draw too much attention to themselves. They were to try and stay out of the spotlight, or too many questions might get asked.
"I'm saying that we need to be careful, yes."
Lancelot's frown deepened. Careful was not something he did well.
At the desk Lancelot got them a room with a king-sized bed while Palomides unpacked a few things from the car.
When they arrived at the room Palomides glanced at the bed without comment.
"It's all they had," Lancelot said with a playful smile, but Palomides just shrugged and produced his smart phone. He proceeded to show Lancelot where the sightings had been. They sat, leg to leg, as Palomides pointed out each one.
"So they're concentrated around this lake here?" Lancelot asked, tapping the screen. Palomides hummed his affirmative and brushed against Lancelot's finger as he had the map zoom out. Lancelot nudged closer against Palomides' leg, but when he looked over he saw Palomides looking at the map, ignoring him. Lancelot sighed.
"Bloom Lake. Right along the north shore, with most of them along Trails End Road." Palomides' voice was flat, downright clinical. Had Lancelot imagined the heat he had felt when their fingers had touched?
"I don't think I like the sound of that." Lancelot said. He had an aversion to endings. Kind of why he liked Hollywood movies, because nothing ever really ended. Just wait twenty years for the reboot. It made a familiar kind of sense to him.
"I'm afraid that's where we have to start." Palomides stood and slipped the phone back into his pocket.
"Do we have to go so soon?" Lancelot asked, falling back onto the bed. "We've only just arrived. After all that driving I think we've earned a soak in the hot tub and maybe a raid on the minibar."
He was beginning to get annoyed that Palomides seemed to have only the Questing Beast on his mind. For the entire trip so far he had seemed ... not quite cold, really. But distant. Professional. Except that he would go out of his way to initiate touch, to brush against Lancelot's hand or shoulder or butt, to talk softly so that Lancelot had to lean close to hear. And all the while ignoring Lancelot's advances and feigning innocence. Lancelot just wanted to grab the man and toss him onto the bed.
"After," Palomides said, and Lancelot nearly growled. But he did get back to his feet, pushed his long hair behind his ears, and followed the taller man out to the car.
He took the passenger seat and Palomides got behind the wheel, reached for a pair of sunglasses hanging from the rearview. His hand missed, bumping them to the floor at Lancelot's feet. And before Lancelot could react he leaned completely over the armrest, hand retrieving the glasses while his face was less than a foot from Lancelot's lap.
"Oops," Palomides said, turning his head to smile up at Lancelot but not moving otherwise. Lancelot sucked in a breath, felt his body react to the sudden proximity, his cock throbbing slightly, flushing with heat. He wanted this, wanted Palomides to take him, wanted to take in turn, but then Palomides was back in his seat. Without another word Palomides started the car and pulled away, leaving Lancelot grasping for what to do with his frustration and budding erection.
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