Love Is Always Write Volume 4

you going to get your shit together and show up to these events on time?
    ~ Susinok

    genre: contemporary
    tags: enemies-to-lovers; humorous; switch-or-versatile; arts-performance; horse; knights
    word count: 13,544
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    A HARD DAZED KNIGHT
    by JJ Cassidy
    CHAPTER 1
    The massive grey gelding fretted, metal chiming as he sidestepped, sweaty and restless. Teeth ground against metal, foam spattering the broad chest. A clod of dirt flew into the crowd as he swung his hindquarters, lifting his tail so it streamed sideways in a silver and black banner.
    "Easy, baby," Jay crooned, and the gelding's ears flicked back. "Soon, yes? Soon, soon, soon. That's my good boy, yes?" The murmured nonsense worked its magic, and the gelding went from ready-to-explode to bored and twitchy. Jay wished somebody could do the same for him. Goliath's pointed, black-tipped ears swiveled at every swell of sound from the massed crowd, and he still chewed at the bit, but his hind feet stayed planted on the ground instead of hovering over it.
    At the other end of the field, Ross, the Master of Ceremonies, shook his head. Jay clenched his teeth as acid rose in his throat. I'm going to kill him .
    Jay hooked the reins over the pommel of the saddle, imploring Goliath to stand under his breath. The horse flipped his nose and snorted, rocking in place from one forefoot to the other. It was his default setting, and Jay had given up trying to break him of the habit years ago. Jay yanked the helm off his head and tossed it at the squire without bothering to look. Tom or Tim – in costume, they looked the same to Jay -- fumbled the catch and the crowd tittered.
    Sweat trickled along Jay's temples, and he shuddered as the hot breeze carried the reek of cooking oil, smoke, and burnt sugar. Under the armor and the quilted gambeson, his soaked linen shirt crawled along his back with every move he made. The humidity had built steadily all day, and he wished it would just rain and get it over with. Over the trees, off to the west, a wall of dark clouds rolled and tumbled, so he might get his wish after all.
    Jay drew his sword. The sooner he got off the jousting field, the better. He predicted a visit to the food stalls in his immediate future, particularly the Fried Twinkie stand. Did the stupid bastard think nobody had noticed? Jay would just bet that Simon's lean good looks had always worked to cut him some slack; he was all dark and intense, with curly hair and russet brown eyes. Jay's dick stirred, and he growled at his own stupidity and took a deep breath.
    "Knavish coxcomb!" he bellowed, putting his heels to Goliath's sides while keeping the reins taut. Goliath happily bounced forward on his hindquarters, ears sideways and foamy spit flying everywhere. "Tripe-visaged bastard! Cowardly sodden-witted whoreson!" Could he say that? Oops. Too late now. "Does the churl refuse to face me in honest combat?"
    Jay asked for a canter pirouette and Goliath obliged, pivoting on his hind legs while his forelegs skipped in a circle. The crowd oohed, and he heard a scattering of applause. He pointed his sword at them.
    "Upon my honor --" They booed and he sneered. "Upon my honor, I swear to seek him out and drag his faithless carcass here, to this field, and see justice done!"
    Ross gaped at him. Yes, idiot-boy, I'm ad-libbing. Work with me, for Christ's sake . Ross gave him an I-hope-you-know-what-you're-doing look and spread his arms. "So say you, Sir Jeremy!"
    Jay curled his lip at Ross, who smirked. Despite what it said on his birth certificate, nobody, not even his parents, had ever called him 'Jeremy'. His father was Jeremy Broussard, he'd always been Jay. However, even he agreed that 'Sir Jay' sounded ridiculous, so he got stuck using his legal first name. Bleh .
    Ross went on, working the crowd. "We all know you are the one without honor. You have one turn of the hourglass to return to this field or the match is forfeit." The crowd clapped and cheered, and Jay was seriously tempted to ride over there and whomp Ross in the head just for theatrical effect. And for fun. Can't forget the fun.
    Instead, he roared: "One turn of the hourglass," and set Goliath at the roped-off corridor back to the stable area. He let him canter, partly to impress the crowd, and partly because now the gelding was so cranked that keeping him to a trot would result in a temper tantrum of epic proportions. Thank you so very fucking much, Sir