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“Something tells me I don’t want to hear how you learned to do that.” Arthur makes an attempt at sounding conversational but from the way Merlin pauses and snorts and how Gwen rests her head back against the pillow with that particular long-suffering sigh, he’s probably come across as a little sulky.
Turning over the soft sheets from where he is between Gwen’s legs and running a hand through his hair, Merlin actually blushes and glares at him. “You just don’t pay attention to what I do when I have free time—”
“I don’t care who you do when you have free time,” Arthur shoots back.
Gwen hooks a leg around Merlin’s neck and pulls him down, making an impatient sort of noise. “He’s just being difficult, Merlin,” she says, carding her fingers through Merlin’s hair. “So do you still want the show, Arthur, or would you like to leave the both of us to our own devices today if you won’t stop providing commentary and just bloody well enjoy it?”
He shakes his head a little too fast, chastised, sipping his wine. “No, do carry on.”
“I also suspect he’s a little jealous,” Gwen stage-whispers.
Merlin fails to disguise his choked-off laughter.
“I am not jealous, Guinevere, what are you talking about?” Arthur grits his teeth.
Gwen edges herself up to her elbows and turns to look at him. “What? Did I say something?”
“I heard nothing,” Merlin pipes up in support.
Arthur still pouts, because he can and because clearly even a king can’t have his own bloody way in the bedroom when he’s sleeping with these two jokers, and loosens the laces at the front of his tunic. It’s getting hot in the room, and not just because of the way Gwen bucks against Merlin when he kisses down her thighs, sweet and shy the way only Merlin is when he’s doing something so warm and intimate.
Both Merlin and Gwen chuckle at that, and then Gwen’s scrambling to her knees, pushing Merlin down to the bed with a wicked gleam in her eye that both men know all too well. “As His Majesty commands, then,” she says, giggling, nudging Merlin’s legs apart and pushing him to an angle on the bed so her back is to Arthur, all lovely skin and dark, soft curls. She never takes her eyes off Arthur’s as she takes Merlin in hand, moving against him tenderly, before finally taking him in.
“Sure you just want to watch, sire?” Merlin asks, a little breathlessly when Gwen begins sliding down on his cock, wrapping her arms around him. “The more the merrier, as you very well know.”
The way he’s rock-hard and shifting uncomfortably in his chair would probably be a screaming indication that he would really rather join in the festivities rather than just watch, but of course Merlin’s oblivious as usual and Arthur would rather die than have him make a note of it—
“Only, well, you look like you could use... ah, a hand.” Merlin grins.
Not so oblivious, then.
“Or a mouth, my liege?” Gwen purrs, and Arthur looks up at the ceiling and silently curses and blesses the old gods in equal measure for handing him this ridiculous pair of mischief makers. Merlin and Gwen’s friendship has pretty much ensured that any and all conspiracies they concoct and execute together (especially those involving Arthur) are... extremely effective.
They’re particularly adept at seduction; tumbling Arthur into bed together, teasing and pushing and fucking him until he loses all semblance of control under their ministrations. It’s only been a few times since they’ve started this arrangement, since both Merlin and Gwen thought of it together and all but convinced Arthur when they ambushed him in his chambers sans clothing, but they’ve gotten quite a rhythm going on.
He gets a bit confused sometimes as to how it all works, but Merlin and Gwen are both so easygoing and accommodating about it and so fucking fantastic in bed that he can’t bring himself to argue. The more the merrier, indeed.
Arthur doesn’t realise how quiet the other two have gone, lost in his thoughts, and is only pulled out of his reverie when he hears a loud thump from the bed. Merlin’s flipped Gwen over so she’s on her back, and then her hands are scrabbling up the headboard for support as he lifts one of her legs up over his shoulder, still thrusting into her, sweet and slow.
“You all right there, my lady?” Merlin asks, cheeky, but gentle all the same.
Gwen smacks him square on the chest. “This is hardly the first time, and you know Arthur’s a lot rougher with me. Get to it.”
“Hey,” Arthur protests, affronted.
She turns and beams at him, winking before she pushes back against Merlin and arches her back. “No offense, mine heart. You know I like to take it hard, don’t you?”
“None taken.” Arthur can feel himself turning an outrageous shade of red.
“I’ll take that as an affirmative.” Leaning down, Merlin kisses Gwen deeply. From where Arthur is, he can see how Merlin cradles her face, light touches with his fingers which turn rougher when he grasps her locks to pull, never to hurt, but just enough to feel utterly, utterly good. He kisses Gwen very differently from the way he kisses Arthur, and Arthur feels a strange pang of jealousy at that because Merlin’s demanding with him, always pushing, while with Gwen he’s affectionate, playful, sometimes mysterious.
Gwen hooks her arms around his neck, curling her fingers together to match Merlin’s pace. “Merlin,” she breathes, laughing between moans. “You rascal, you just keep getting better at this.”
“I’ve got to keep up with the royalty I associate with,” he smiles brazenly at Arthur, rolling his hips so that Gwen hiccups a little in surprise and pleasure before she wraps her legs around him, urging him on.
Arthur rolls his eyes and throws a small lemon at Merlin’s head with unerring accuracy.
“Uncalled for, sire!”
“What, can’t handle a little distraction?”
“That’s just petty!" Merlin curses at him, pulling Gwen tighter against him while one of his hands grips the wooden frame roughly. Arthur still can’t get used to the pale and, if he were to be completely honest, absolutely amazing view of Merlin’s arse, and tries not to stare.
“Merlin, I’m,” Gwen stutters, and Merlin smiles against her mouth as he kisses her again, first on the lips, then over her face.
“Come on, my lady,” he encourages, dark hair plastered against his forehead, fingers digging into the curves of her cheeks as he presses her against him, letting her take him deeper. “Just—”
And then Gwen’s clenching her eyes shut and raking her nails down Merlin’s back, curving up against him in a silent arc, hissing a loud and startled “Oh,” while she rides out the waves. Merlin holds her through it all, stilling himself with what Arthur would grudgingly say is an admirable amount of self-restraint, threading his fingers through her hair and telling her how beautiful she is, how wonderful, how he wouldn’t want any other Queen in the world.
Arthur watches them with half-lidded eyes, both his lovers embracing one another in the aftermath, and swallows more wine. Damn his pride for insisting on just watching.
There’s a crash. Arthur turns to look at the other side of the room, where what appears to be the shattered remnants of a bowl and plate have fallen, the fruits in them rolling across the floor. The fire’s also roaring higher than before, which is puzzling.
He glances back at Merlin and Gwen on the bed, who’ve just frozen like deers at the end of his crossbow when they see him looking. Merlin averts his eyes and Gwen coughs, looking a little scandalised and whispering something to him, and then Merlin’s blushing and stammering something that sounds suspiciously like, “It’s not like I can help it!”
They sneak another glance at Arthur, and when Arthur just looks back at them, silently challenging them to let him in on the joke, they giggle nervously and then look at each other for a good while, trying to catch their breath.
Merlin eventually shifts and pulls out slowly; he’s still hard, and Arthur digs his fingers into the arm of his chair, wanting nothing more than to fucking take that into his mouth right the fuck now. Gwen winces just the slightest bit before she lies back on the bed, raising her arms above her head and sighing. “Thank you, Merlin.”
“My pleasure.” Cheeky grin as always, but soft when he’s looking at Gwen, always soft. She’s not fragile, as she keeps insisting, but Merlin’s always gentle with the women he talks to, polite and bashful and occasionally awkward. It figures that he’d be like that in bed with them, as well.
It makes Arthur wonder about the men Merlin has taken to bed who are not Arthur.
Merlin’s nuzzling down Gwen’s stomach in sheepish apology, sucking little bites on her skin. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”
“No, my dear. That was wonderful. You’re wonderful. I mean, you always are, there’s never a time when— okay, look, old habits die hard. Look at me rambling,” Gwen says, laughing, and then she’s turning a sleepy, intent gaze on Arthur. “Anyway, you’ve still not gotten yourself off, Merlin, when you were tending to me. I think Arthur should help you with that.”
“I’m good,” Arthur says automatically, stubbornness speaking for him before he can get any actual words of his own out, and then he’s cursing himself. “I’ll just watch Merlin, if he likes.”
Both Gwen and Merlin sigh, “Arthur,” at the same time, and then it’s Merlin’s turn to roll his eyes (the sheer audacity!) as he gets up and walks over to Arthur, stark naked and thin and beautiful in the firelight.
“You’re such a prat,” he drawls, snaking his arm around the top of Arthur’s chair, and he’s so near, Arthur could just pull him down and have Merlin ride him here where he’s seated. “Just admit you want in.”
Merlin extends a hand, smiling that infernal dimpled smile at him that he knows Arthur, or anyone for that matter, can’t ever say no to.
Damn his pride. Arthur swallows audibly and nods, taking it and letting Merlin pull him to his feet.
“If you two boys are done being childish, it’s going to be my turn to enjoy the show,” Gwen says, taking a glass of wine from a small table next to the bed and leaning back, a vision against the dark sheets tonight.
“Never let it be said that I ever denied a lady’s request,” Arthur says seriously.
Merlin slaps his rear. “Well, turn around, Your Majesty.”
“That’s disrespectful, it is!” But he does, anyway; lets Merlin pull his breeches off and guide him towards the bed so that Arthur’s seated and Merlin’s sinking to his knees before he nudges Arthur’s legs apart, smirking like a cat who caught the canary.
Those long fingers of Merlin’s are dancing and tapping against his thighs now. Arthur’s torn between wanting to look at what Merlin’s going to do with them and looking at Merlin’s calculative, seductive expression as he bites his lips, flicking his tongue out to gaze up at Arthur, eyes dark with desire. “I wonder what I should do first?”
Arthur groans. “The teasing wasn’t funny the first time, and it never will be.”
Gwen scoffs from where she’s seated on the bed, feet tangled in the covers. “You don’t appreciate some of the finer aspects of life, Arthur. Didn’t you like it that one time we tied you up and licked you all over for hours?”
“I hated it,” he says a touch mournfully. “I couldn’t do anything while the two of you had your evil, evil ways with me.”
“Live a little, sire,” Merlin says, voice sultry as he leans in to breathe hotly against Arthur’s cock before wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing. Arthur sighs and tilts his head back. “Well, you’ve been patient tonight. I guess you should have a reward.”
Arthur turns around to look incredulously at Gwen, gesturing at Merlin who’s licking up his cock. “Can you believe this? I thought I was the king here.”
“Probably not a wise thing to make the person who’s got his mouth near your cock cross, darling,” she says absently, tilting her glass in a mockery of a toast.
Because they’re both terrible, terrible people, Merlin chooses that moment to graze his teeth lightly over the head, and Arthur nearly jumps from how overwhelming that sensation is. “She’s right, you know.” And then he closes his lips over Arthur’s cock, humming briefly, and it’s good, it’s always good, because it’s Merlin and he’s kind of like a bloody savant at these things and how the fuck did he learn to get so good at this?!
“But I’m feeling generous, so I’ll let,” a curl of tongue around the slit and Arthur almost bucks up into Merlin’s mouth but for the other hand pinning him in place, “this slide.”
“Merlin,” he nearly begs, because Gwen’s casually tossed a small bottle of salve at Merlin before returning to sipping her wine and then Merlin’s eyes are predatory as he circles Arthur’s hole with his slick fingers, lips brushing against Arthur’s thighs, down his skin, behind his balls. A kiss there, as Merlin briefly licks into Arthur’s hole and makes him cry out, and then he takes Arthur entirely into his mouth while sliding two fingers in at once.
It burns, just this edge of uncomfortable, but the brilliant sensation of Merlin swallowing him whole is... a pretty good distraction. Merlin bobs up and down, tongue working wicked wonders and driving him insane, scissoring his fingers lazily inside like he’s got all the time in the world to take Arthur apart, bit by agonising bit.
“Right,” Merlin says when he pulls off, mouth all gorgeous and swollen with his fingers still pressing against where it’s making Arthur squirm in pleasure. Just as Arthur’s close to the edge, obviously, because Merlin’s a fucking sadist. Arthur could kill him. “So how shall we do this?”
“You stopped to ask that?” Arthur nearly yells.
“No, no, you don’t get to yell at him,” Gwen says, reproachful, and she’s lying down on her stomach now, chin propped against the back of her hands as she watches them. “It’s a legitimate question.”
Blessing, curse, blessing, curse... these two would be the death of him. “You mean whether you’d like me to fuck you, or if you want to take me tonight?”
“Oh, I’m good either way, sire.” Merlin chuckles and pushes another finger inside Arthur, wrenching another breathless cry from him. “How about I take you,” he begins, climbing up Arthur’s legs like a tree and then pinning him down to the bed, face down, (again, the audacity!) still pumping his fingers inside, “and then you take me, after?”
Arthur moans at both the idea and when Merlin yanks his head back roughly by his golden hair, pulling his fingers out of Arthur to give him a hard smack across his arse. “Fuck, Merlin!”
“I’m sure some other people have used that line before, but that’s the idea,” Merlin says, voice gone low and dark and a little bit dangerous. Gwen shifts from where she is, stroking her chin and watching them both, sliding a hand down her belly to toy with the dark curls between her legs. “So what’ll it be tonight, sire? Do you want me to fuck you until you feel me for a week, so that you’re sore when you walk out to the drills tomorrow with your knights? Or do you want me to draw it out the way you both hate and enjoy as I slide into you, slowly, teasing you until you’re begging me to let you come?”
Shaking his head, Arthur buries his face in the sheets, fists digging into the covers, feeling the mortification heat his cheeks at Merlin’s words. He’s so aroused at this point, he’ll let Merlin do anything he wanted to him. “Just fuck me already,” he snaps, voice hoarse, glaring at Merlin over his back. “Or are you all talk and no action?”
Merlin’s eyes narrow. “Oh, I’ll show you action.” He pulls Arthur back against him, taking him roughly in hand and then he’s rubbing his cock teasingly against Arthur’s stones, maddening up-down motions that linger nowhere near where Arthur actually wants him, until— until he does actually slide in, one smooth thrust in that steals Arthur’s breath away. He presses a palm against Arthur’s chest, leans forward so that he can say more of his filthy, delicious words in Arthur’s ear.
“For the love of Camelot,” Merlin says, the smart mouth. He withdraws a little to roll his hips in that maddening circular movement he’d seen him use on Guinevere, and small wonder why Arthur, too, loves this as much as she does. Being the fucking little tease he is, Merlin just stays that way for a while, pushing shallowly into Arthur without really pushing in, fingering lightly and distractedly around the edges of his slick hole.
“You really are all talk and no action, you useless manservant.” Arthur grits his teeth and shuts his eyes tightly before he whips out his hand to dig into the flesh of Merlin’s arse, pulling him so he’s flush against Arthur’s back and so he can sink back onto Merlin’s cock. Merlin groans, taken aback, and then Arthur’s pushing back against him and moving, moving, moving, taking in everything he can get. “Only I ever do the work around here, you lazy thing.”
Gwen laughs, and she’s playing with herself leisurely as she watches them both, trailing her wet fingers up her body before she sucks them between her dark lips, smile like sin. “You’re both something to behold. How do you even come up with all those comments?”
“It’s a gift,” both Arthur and Merlin snark at the same time, before they glare at each other. Merlin being Merlin, he gets himself on his knees proper and sinks his fingers into Arthur’s sides, hard enough to bruise, fucking into Arthur so hard he can feel Merlin being balls-deep in him.
It’s a thrill; before Merlin’d shoved him against the wall the first time he snogged him so hard he saw stars, Arthur would never have imagined Merlin being possessed of such a wiry strength or that he would’ve liked whimpering against Merlin’s mouth and skin, being the focus of that single-minded determination.
He’s already so aroused from Gwen and Merlin’s little performance and the countless ways Merlin has been pulling and pushing at him all night that it doesn’t take long for the familiar pulse of heat to pool low in his belly, curling inside him like a banked fire as Merlin fucks him, sucking marks onto his shoulder, clever fingers alternately splaying over his cock and fisting him with intent.
Arthur reaches blindly behind him and hooks an arm around Merlin’s head, bringing his mouth down to his neck so he can lick and bite at Arthur while he crashes over the edge. He’s silent when he spills his seed against the sheets, biting down on his bottom lip with his eyes closed, the orgasm punching out of him like a blow.
Fingers link with his as Merlin stutters to a stop behind him, gasping his name as he comes; it’s an indescribable sensation, having Merlin spill inside him, warm and intimate. He hangs on tightly to where their hands are linked, and just smiles privately to himself while Merlin moans and rests his messy, dark-haired head against Arthur’s back, heavy with sweat and sex.
There’re more crashes and some whooshing sounds in the room. “Merlin!” Gwen exclaims after a moment, sounding aghast, and Arthur opens his eyes blearily as he feels a wind blowing about the room. He’s pretty sure the windows were closed earlier, though.
Merlin curses and scrambles off Arthur to close the windows, still buck naked like the day he was born, muttering apologies throughout. “I keep telling you, I don’t mean to.”
Arthur sits up, furrowing his brows, taking the appearance of the room into consideration. The table from earlier’s overturned, the goblet of wine’s fallen over, the floor’s a right mess of shades of red and scattered food. “Surely the wind didn’t cause all that?”
He looks at both Merlin and Gwen, who’re standing up and trying very hard to not look guilty. They’re also trying very hard to not look behind Arthur, so obviously Arthur turns around to see what they’re looking at.
Pillows and tapestry are floating in the air behind him, and the other lemon he didn’t throw at Merlin’s head is also... well. Levitating. “Do you both know something I don’t?”
Gwen darts a glance at Merlin. “No time like the present,” she murmurs, tilting her head at Arthur in a purposeful manner that blatantly reads, get to it! “It was going to happen eventually.”
“What was?” Arthur ventures.
“I know, I know,” Merlin sighs, completely ignoring Arthur. “But this won’t end well, will it?”
“Merlin!”
“All right, Gwen! By the gods!” Merlin waves a hand, and the pillows come crashing down on Arthur’s head. He yanks them off, shocked. “So, Arthur, I might or might not have magic.”
“You what!?”
“I told you this wouldn’t end well, Gwen!” Merlin sounds hysterical.
“Listen to him, Arthur!”
“Did you know of this?” Arthur turns to Gwen, dumbfounded. The fact that all three of them are conducting this conversation without any clothes on is surreal enough as it is without including the fact that Merlin might or might not have magic, as he so delicately put it.
Gwen shrugs helplessly. “I had my suspicions, but the fact that he all but floated a chair that other time you had him bent over the table with his eyes glowing golden basically gave him away. No, don’t hit him! Arthur, come on.” She moves in front of Merlin, protectively.
Arthur rubs his eyes and steps back. “I wasn’t going to,” he mutters.
“Liar,” Merlin hisses back.
He ignores him. “This is how you basically intended to reveal your magic to me? We’ve come a long way since the days of my father’s reign and we even have peaceful treaties with the druids and magic-heavy kingdoms, now. You couldn’t have done it, oh, over dinner?”
Merlin stares at him.
“Yeah, all right, a stroke of genius to do it when I’m all fucked out, well done,” Arthur places a palm over his eyes and sighs.
“Hey, it wasn’t intentional.” Merlin’s blushing, for some reason. “It's just, I lose control of my magic sometimes, all right?”
Arthur folds his arms. “How’ve I not noticed it before?”
And now both Gwen and Merlin are staring at him. Gwen speaks first. “Probably because you’re always too distracted by Merlin’s pretty mouth on your cock, husband mine.”
“Gwen!” Merlin gasps dramatically. “I never thought you would resort to such language!"
“I blame the both of you,” she says off-handedly. “It happens sometimes, that’s all. And as for the other times, I can’t really say. Do you really see Merlin as the type to use magic to harm people unless he had to? For you, I imagine. He’d never harm a fly.”
“No, but I can’t imagine Merlin being someone who can keep a secret.” He crowds Merlin against a wall, and takes some small pleasure at Merlin gulping at that. “You. A sorcerer.”
Merlin holds his hands up, looking like a miserable bedraggled puppy left out in the rain, only naked with love bites everywhere and a pretty impressive cock. “You now know magic’s just another tool, sire,” he says softly, eyes pleading. “I’ve only ever used magic to protect you, or for the sake of the kingdom.”
Arthur sighs and leans in to bite at Merlin’s ear, relishing the full-body shudder that runs through him. “I don’t doubt that. You could’ve trusted me.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Gwen says, voice going a little high-pitched the way it does when she’s come down from the edge of panicking. “I told you, Merlin, you had absolutely nothing to worry about.”
“Don’t make it worse, Gwen!” Merlin utters from the corner of his mouth, and then Arthur’s laughing and pulling him close for a kiss.
“I suppose you could make it up to me,” Arthur says, turning Merlin around and tugging both his arms behind his back, locking him in place before licking up the long, quivering line of Merlin’s neck. Merlin moans, letting Arthur push his legs apart where he stands with a knee, and then Arthur’s pinning his arms up and pressing Merlin’s face against the wall, pulling roughly at that mess of dark hair now. “As your king, I decree that you should receive no small amount of punishment for this deception.”
Merlin rubs his arse back against Arthur’s half-hard cock, struggling against Arthur’s hold. “I’ve been bad, sire,” he says breathlessly, back to being utterly unrepentant. Typical Merlin. “What are you going to do about it?”
Gwen walks over with a familiar bottle of salve, and smirks. “Might I be of service?”
Arthur steps aside the smallest bit to allow Gwen to get to her knees before Merlin, who’s already moaning when Arthur slides his cock between Merlin’s stones. “Prepare him,” he says, slipping into the voice he uses for command; it doesn’t escape him how both Gwen and Merlin still and turn to look at him reverently at that. “Thoroughly.”
“As you wish, my liege.”