Archive of Our Own

"Mmm," Gwaine murmurs, all heavy and sweaty along Arthur's back. Arm reaching past Arthur's waist, he's thumbing slowly down the slick cleft between Merlin's arsecheeks. Oil shines and spreads as he rubs at Merlin's still-spasming hole and Arthur makes a small sound that he will never admit to at the sight—Gwaine's big thumb pushing slightly into that easy, loosened space where Arthur just came and came and came. The tip comes out gleaming with it, Arthur's come, sticky-white, and he knows Gwaine's must look the same where it's smeared across Arthur's lower back.

"No more," Merlin whines, pressing his flushed face deeper into Arthur's pillow. Arthur clenches his hand on Merlin's thigh to keep his body in place and still for Gwaine's hot, messy little touches.

"Just a little," says Gwaine, pushing his thumb back in again deeper, up to the first knuckle. "You look so fucking good, Merlin. I want to eat you out. Want to tongue you, suck you clean, yeah." There's no end to the nonsense Gwaine can spout in bed.

Merlin groans and twitches into Gwaine's hand, says "Fuck, that's—yeah, good, yes. Do that."

Impossibly, Arthur feels Gwaine getting hard against him again and helping it along with short, shallow shoves against Arthur's arse. God, no matter how many times they do this, it doesn't seem that any of them can stop wanting moremoremore, further and further, and Arthur's own cock is getting involved again now, nudging upwards to poke at Merlin's thigh.

"Seriously?" Merlin huffs. "No. Not th—" Whatever he intended to say gets cut off on a sharply-exhaled grunt as Gwaine twists his whole thumb up and inside his body. This time it slides out streaked with Arthur's come, and Arthur twists to watch, stunned, as Gwaine pulls away, brings the digit to his mouth and sucks it in.

"What...that's, that's—" Arthur sputters, unsure whether to be appalled or turned on. It's just, it must be the sight of Gwaine sucking like that, like he's really loving it, because that thumb just came from Merlin's—from his arse—and that's disgusting.

"What, princess?" Gwaine asks, smirking after he lets off his finger with a loud pop. "Never rimmed anyone before?"

"What?" Arthur says, confused, then, "No?"

"No," Gwaine repeats doubtfully.

Merlin flips over without warning, jarring Arthur off him in the process. Arthur huffs and rolls back towards him with the intent of pinning him down again (he can't get enough of pinning Merlin down these days) but he stops when he sees Merlin’s half-amused, half-incredulous expression. "Seriously?" Merlin says again, the little shit.

Arthur scowls, refusing to admit that he has no clue what they're talking about, except that it seems to have something to do with arses and sucking and other revolting acts. Want to tongue you, suck you clean...As if this could get any more depraved.

After a moment: "You don't know what rimming is!" Merlin says, squirming in his glee, cock hard (again, what is wrong with them?) and bobbing against his flat, pale belly. "Oh haha, this is excellent. This is going to be so much fun."

"You've really never?" Gwaine asks, licking along the side of Arthur's neck like it's a new treasure and not something he's encountered and slobbered over many times before. His mouth always feels so good, Arthur just wants to—but not when he can sense the budding blow to his ego. Time for a tactical withdrawal.

"I assure you," says Arthur stiffly, struggling out of their haphazard three-way embrace, "I have no idea what you're talking about." He sits up and shakes off the clinging sheets, intending to stand, wash up maybe, eat something, he’s famished, but Merlin and Gwaine both get their infernal skin on him first. Merlin slides around his front and throws a leg over Arthur’s lap, straddles him efficiently (more efficiently than he does anything else) while Gwaine drapes his body against Arthur’s back and closes his arms in a band around Arthur’s chest. It’s a curse, this attraction that makes him helplessly grip at Merlin’s waist and ribs, want to bury his fingers through Gwaine’s hair despite himself.

“Don’t be a prat,” Merlin chides, mouthing at Arthur’s cheekbone and jaw. “It’s so good, let us show you.”

“Rimming,” Gwaine says, “is when one person, myself for example, uses his mouth and tongue on another person’s, say Merlin's, for the sake of convenience, arsehole.”

“Spare me the detail,” Arthur snaps, offended by Gwaine’s patronizing tone.

Merlin cups Arthur by the throat, palm against his wildly-pulsing adam’s apple, and gently forces his head backwards onto Gwaine’s shoulder, saying, “Listen, just, it’s so—”

“Like you would on his cock,” Gwaine continues, all hot and wet breath on Arthur’s ear now. “I would use my tongue and my lips, kiss him and lick him there. Push my tongue inside and tease him. Maybe before I put my cock in him, use my mouth to make sure he’s ready, easy for me. Or after, like now, I could lick circles around the hole you fucked open and clean him all up, tasting you right out.”

Merlin is heaving against him; he’s touching in that fast, careless way he has when he needs to be taken to bed immediately and fucked until he can’t speak. He can still speak now though, practically gasping out more of Gwaine’s description, “He could use his fingers to spread me and my hole would give—”

“Yeah, so quickly, it'd give,” interrupts Gwaine, quiet into Arthur’s temple. “I could fuck him with my tongue right now.”

“I want that, oh shit, Gwaine. Your tongue in me. Fucking have to...” Merlin moans, rubbing his hard cock against Arthur’s sternum, getting his chest hair sticky from the leaking tip.

Something hot and tingling shoots out from Arthur’s groin at it all, overstimulated and nervous, but the thought—the thought. “But it’s dirty,” he whispers.

“It’s not at all, I promise. Let us show you,” says Gwaine, over-riding Merlin’s indignant “Hey!”

“All right,” Arthur says, shaky with it, and god help him, he actually trusts these two fools.

It all changes in that second. Merlin scrambles half off and half over Arthur to bear Gwaine down onto the bed, nearly slamming a nasty sharp knee into Arthur’s face. Then Gwaine actually kicks Arthur as he wrestles Merlin onto his back all askew diagonal from the headboard. He gets a good grip on Merlin’s legs, right behind each knee, and folds those long, stupidly long, legs back so far Merlin’s body curls up and he can’t even writhe well, he’s so nicely held. Arse wide open and off the bed, clenching-hungry little hole still red. Merlin can’t reach Gwaine around his own body so he reaches up instead, gets one hand around the bedpost and another in the sheets as Gwaine goes straight in for a long, sloppy lick.

As if some kind of need has been satisfied with that deep taste alone, Gwaine settles back into the tease he really is. He places a simple kiss to the flutter-slick of Merlin’s arse, follows it with small darting licks from the tip of his tongue just around the edges, like he’s soothing. Merlin makes an unnaturally high sound in his throat and strains, but Gwaine’s muscles roll and he keeps Merlin tucked up neat, punishes him for the wriggle with the way he retreats to blow softly along the damp lines of his saliva.

“Please, please!” Merlin begs.

Gwaine grins at Arthur and asks with his eyes: shall I go on?

Arthur nods, fascinated. He’s seen Merlin undone in a thousand ways, but this is altogether new.

Gwaine leans in and puts his tongue right there and laps with it, rubbing back and forth quickly the way Arthur might do to bring a woman off, mouth over her tiny, slippery nub. Slowly but surely, he adds force. Arthur can see it in the flex of his jaw. He’s working his tongue inside, hooking it when he gets in deep enough and drawing back out to loosen Merlin up all over again. Merlin pants noisily through it, nearly twisting himself off the bed when Gwaine finally drives in completely, tongue deep and mouth open in a deep, filthy kiss that makes Arthur’s stomach knot up.

The skin around Gwaine’s mouth glimmers with saliva when he pulls out, fighting to keep Merlin from toppling them both. Arthur stares at his tongue, curling between his lips to hold the last clear-white remnants of Arthur's come, and at the dark gape of Merlin’s body; he swallows convulsively, thinking on—on how that might have tasted. His cock is fit to burst.

“Well?” Gwaine asks hoarsely. “Does it look dirty, princess?”

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck, come back here, you twat!” Merlin rants.

“No,” Arthur says, leaning down over Gwaine’s arm to find out exactly why he can’t stop running his tongue against his teeth.

He starts with a tentative kiss, lips only, the chaste kind. Not even fully on the puffy damp rim of Merlin’s arsehole, more on the dusky skin above it. It’s not bad. He noses downward bit to rub his lower lip against the top edge where Merlin’s body goes hotter and deeper suddenly, like dropping off a cliff into the most insane freefall—the way Arthur always feels when he’s about to push inside.

“Arthur, Arthur, Arthur,” Merlin is chanting wildly. “Arthurrrrr, do it!”

“Go on, do it,” Gwaine urges too, “I want to watch you eat him out, then I want to kiss you until we can get him hard again.”

That sounds—good. Arthur takes a deep breath (Merlin thrashes against Gwaine’s grip) and dips out his tongue to touch lightly. It tastes like nothing, like the way saliva tastes, at first, and after that is the salty-bitterness of come, the strange herbal flavor of oil, and last, underneath the rest, the indefinable taste of Merlin’s body, stronger and heavier here than when Arthur sucks his cock or his throat or his fingers. He digs his tongue deeper and it hurts his jaw a bit but he manages to push it inside, where the pink depth of Merlin trembles around it.

It’s so much more than fucking. Arthur's nose is buried underneath Merlin's tight bollocks. He can’t breathe but to wheeze past Merlin’s skin and there’s an intimacy to it, to having his tongue rolling into Merlin’s arse like this. The intensity is too much, too suddenly, and Arthur has to pull back to gasp, licking carelessly to keep the strange connection going until spit drips down his chin and Merlin’s crack and Gwaine is rutting at the empty air, saying, “Yeah, yes, like that, eat him—” So Arthur drives back in and has his tongue so deep his teeth are mashed against the wet outline of Merlin’s seizing hole while Merlin shoots string of warm come up and over his own neck and chin. Arthur doesn’t want to, but he has to jerk out of the way as Gwaine lets go of Merlin’s legs and tugs once, twice, three times, four times before he’s going over that edge too.

Afterwards, they curl up together and beckon to him, and only then does he realize, dizzily, that his own cock is spent and done.

He goes down with them into sleepy muteness and wonders what they’ll do the next time they wake up.

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