Archive of Our Own

Six months ago, Uther accepted the job as superintendent of the entire Albion School District, completely uprooting Arthur’s posh city life in Camelot and moving them to the tiny district center of Ealdor. It was a rinky-dink town in every right; people here had wells, and tractors, and there was a distinct animal smell to the air that was constant.

Arthur’s city sensibilities were perpetually distressed by things that he saw and knew he would very well lose his mind if Ealdor didn’t make up for what it lacked in glamour by having an abundance of sports fields. Granted, there was just an abundance of fields in general. But that meant the town was more than willing to transform them into space for whatever sport the teenagers of the town decided they wanted to fail at this season.

The school’s sports teams were painfully bad, with the exception of that season’s lacrosse team which was actually half-decent. Arthur, who’d been captain of his previous team, was of course the star player and a couple of the other guys on the team had natural talent for the sport. Their main problem was their goalie couldn’t stop a ball to save his life.

Merlin Emrys.

Emrys had been on Arthur’s radar since the day he tripped spectacularly in front of Arthur in the cafeteria, all gorgeous gangly limbs flying and stiff determination in the midst of all the laughter. Emrys was gorgeous, clumsy, and Arthur wanted him, but dear. Lord. he was a terrible goalie. So Arthur was stuck warring between the desires of his cock and his athletic competitiveness.

Which was what drove him to open his fat mouth the day before their first game and make that wonderfully stupid bet with Emrys in front of everyone. At the time, he hadn’t expected Emrys to be able to even half-stop a goal; during the game, Emrys had stopped every single one.

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Gritting his teeth, Arthur adjusted his cock in his jeans and pushed open the door to the stable; Emrys had left a message in his locker for Arthur to meet him there after school.

‘Emrys?,’ Arthur called out tentatively, peering into the dim light.

’Back here.’

Arthur walked slowly down the aisle, pausing to look into each stall. The Emrys’ kept a number of horses on their farm, in addition to the pigs, chickens, and cows they kept for food and market. Up close, it actually wasn’t as awful as Arthur had imagined.

Emrys was waiting in the last stall, leaned up against the wall at the rear, partially in shadow. He was dressed in jeans, a pale blue shirt, and a pair of black harness boots, slightly muddy. He looked more formidable here than he did in the halls of their school. When Arthur stepped into the stall, Emrys motioned for him to latch the gate behind him.

‘Are you ready to play with the farmer’s boy,’ Emrys asked, walking up to Arthur and staring into his face, his blue eyes set with that same firm determination that made Arthur sick with lust. Arthur wasn’t sure what he was getting into but whatever it was, his cock wanted it so he just nodded dumbly.

‘Good,’ Emrys said, slipping something red out of his pocket. ‘Why don’t you take off your clothes for me?’ Walking away, he seated himself on a short stool in the corner.

Arthur stripped off his shirt and trainers first. The red thing Emrys held was hollow and flared at one end. Arthur decided it must be made of rubber because it flexed when Arthur dropped his jeans and Emrys’ fist clenched in response.

‘Come here,’ Emrys said, motioning again for Arthur to stop when Arthur made to walk over. ‘What do piggies do, Arthur,’ Merlin asked, sounding almost innocent. Arthur flicked his gaze to the ground, dusty and covered in fresh hay. Hay that Emrys had put down for him. Arthur knew he could balk, walk away, and Emrys would never mention this again.

Or he could do what piggies do.

Arthur felt ungainly as he got down on all fours, uncertain in his limbs in a way he’d never felt before. The burn of desire in his gut was almost unbearable. The hay was soft against his knees and palms, and a grassy animal smell filled his nostrils. Arthur peered up at Emrys, who spread his knees in response. His smirk was apparent and Arthur lowered his gaze as he crawled slowly in between those thighs.

‘How is my piggy today,’ Emrys asked gently. Arthur’s face pressed into the warmth of Emrys’ crotch and he was nuzzling hungrily before he could stop himself. Leaning back, Emrys opened the fly of his jeans and pressed his hard cock into Arthur’s mouth. Emrys forced his cock farther down Arthur’s throat, fucking his mouth in deep, unhurried strokes. Arthur struggled to breathe, fabric clinging to his face. Emrys must have noticed because he paused to strip off his shirt. Arthur could feel thick drool running off his chin and Emrys’ fingers in the waistband of his briefs, sliding them down.

Arthur rocked back and forth, fucking his mouth onto Emrys’ cock, distracted. He spread his knees wider on the hay-covered floor, earning him a firm spank that made his hole clench. Flicking his tongue against the shaft of Emrys’ cock, Arthur grunted sharply at the sound and sensation of Emrys’ spitting on his arsehole and pressing a finger into him.

‘That’s my good piggy,’ Emrys cooed, spitting again and pressing another finger into Arthur, spreading them apart on every out stroke. Arthur continued fucking himself between Emrys’ cock and the fingers in his arse, drool puddling on the hay beneath them. Some rustling, the snick of a bottle opening, and the sensation of slick sliding over his hole had Arthur arching his back.

Emrys’ fingers slipped out of him, replaced by a firm pressure that had him whining. It must have been the red thing Emrys had been holding in his hand, the stretch noticeable but not painful. Emrys hushed him gently, never letting up on the pressure. They groaned in unison when the toy finally slipped past the tight ring of muscle to seat itself inside Arthur; Emrys groaning and cursing when Arthur tried to clench his hole around the toy and whined when he realized he couldn’t.

Pulling Arthur off his cock, Emrys shifted around so he could see what he had done. The toy forced Arthur’s hole open wide, his thighs straining as he fought not to close his legs. Without Emrys’ cock to distract him, the reality that Emrys was looking inside of him—and that he was on the brink of orgasm from just that, was too much.

Arthur couldn’t feel it but he heard it when Emrys spit in his hole, and that pushed him over, tears springing to his eyes as he buried his face in the hay in shame-tinged lust and painted the hay in thick white stripes, the soft murmuring of his farmer boy in his ear.