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His tunic bunched around his hips, pulled up just far enough to expose a thatch of dark hair. Merlin parted the sweaty curls, impatient, eager to rub his fingers against the slick flesh they concealed. He kept his first touches light and teasing. A flickering caress, just enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut and stifle his breath. Then firmer and faster.
He liked curling his fingers around his cock, but whispering the spell that gave him a warm, wet cunt to dig his fingers into and play with was very good, too.
And Arthur would like it.
He thought about what it would feel like to have the head of Arthur’s cock resting against him, just there. How Arthur might even like to squeeze his small breasts and wrap Merlin’s dark hair around his hand as he fucked his way inside.
It brought his climax, thinking on such things. He swirled his fingers in the juices leaking from his cunt and then licked and sucked on them, tasting himself.
Tonight, he would find out in truth. He would keep Arthur’s cup well filled with wine during the banquet and then take the prince to his chambers, undressing him and helping him into a warm bath. Then he would slip out, pleading a sudden illness.
And when he returned…Arthur enjoyed himself with the chambermaids often enough, and Merlin had little doubt of the chances of his own success at bedding the prince.
*
“Merlin, the water is getting cold, and—” Arthur blinked up at him, muzzy with wine and the heat of the water. “You’re not—who—?”
“Merlin took ill suddenly, my lord, and asked me to finish tending you,” Merlin replied, his voice higher and lighter. He kept his eyes averted, playing the part.
“Oh.” Arthur rubbed a confused hand through his damp hair and then stumbled upright. Merlin hastily came to his side, draping a linen cloth around him.
“You’ve had too much wine, sire,” he murmured, beginning to rub the cloth along Arthur’s body.
“I suppose I have,” Arthur mumbled. His eyes slid shut, his limbs lax. Merlin let the linen slip a little, pressing his bare palm to Arthur’s chest before crouching down to dry Arthur’s legs. When he cupped Arthur’s cock in the folds of cloth, squeezing gently, Arthur’s eyes flickered open.
“You’re a bold one,” Arthur said, his tone rough, his cock already responding to Merlin’s coaxing. He put his thumb against Merlin’s bottom lip, and Merlin licked it with his tongue, daring to meet Arthur’s eyes.
Lust flushed Arthur’s face and quickened his breathing. He hauled Merlin upright, the linen cloth pooling at their feet, unheeded. His hands smoothed back Merlin’s hair—longer now and curling around his face—and he gathered it, twisting it into a little rope to guide his movements, tilting Merlin’s head back so that he could kiss along his throat.
“Sire,” Merlin sighed, letting all the devotion that he usually kept guarded from Arthur bleed into his voice.
Arthur rubbed himself against Merlin’s thigh and stomach, the hand that wasn’t tangled in Merlin’s hair finding the edge of his tunic and the skin underneath.
“Not even a shift to cover your modesty?” Arthur whispered, and Merlin blushed and spread his legs at the same time.
Arthur sucked on Merlin’s neck and worried two fingers at Merlin’s sex, quick little circles and then slow strokes. Merlin hid his face in Arthur’s shoulder and hitched a leg around his thigh.
Grunting, Arthur let go of Merlin’s hair and withdrew his sticky fingers, cupping his arse instead and hefting him, bearing them over to the bed. Their fingers jousted over the laces on Merlin’s tunic, and then it was stripped from him, and Arthur’s eyes tracked over his body. Merlin half-wanted to curl up, hiding, afraid that Arthur would somehow divine his identity despite the fact that he had never seen Merlin like this before--wild with need, body open and splayed for his prince’s desire. But the dim candlelight obscured what his magic could not. And Arthur was growing insistent and needy anyway, his fingers back at Merlin’s cunt, his mouth finding a nipple to suck and a breast to fondle.
“Should I take you on your knees, like the wanton little beast you are?” Arthur asked, pulling off his breast, but resting his head on his stomach so that he could keep his tongue laving slowly at Merlin’s taut nipple. His tone was teasing, the words drawled out like honey dripping off a spoon.
“Ar—sire,” Merlin gasped, catching his mistake just in time. And he let Arthur turn him over, didn’t protest when Arthur pulled his arse up, nudging his legs open a little more.
Arthur edged his cock inside, and Merlin wriggled because of the stretch and the fact that this was Arthur and yes. Arthur’s cock popped back out.
“Just—” He got a better grip on Merlin’s hips. “There—” And then he pushed in on a breathy groan.
Merlin uttered little hiccups of sound as Arthur started thrusting. He could feel the length of Arthur dragging inside him, a tingling pleasure rushing up his backbone and easing his shoulders into a loose sprawl.
Arthur was mumbling something, his thrusts slowing into short jabs as he stretched himself over Merlin. He nosed at the juncture of his neck and kneaded one of his breasts with a warm hand. A needy whine escaped Merlin.
“Mmmm.” Arthur rolled his hips in approval. “That sound.” And he eased out, leaving Merlin panting and shivering for a moment before he guided him onto his back and pushed in again. A faster rhythm this time, and then Arthur rubbed his thumb just below Merlin’s clit and—
“Yes, that’s good, so good, ” Arthur said, smiling, and he put his mouth just next to Merlin’s and the noises Merlin couldn’t stop making.
His cunt clenched desperately around Arthur when he came, and Arthur wrapped an arm around him, holding still, face hidden in Merlin’s hair. He started moving again when Merlin’s cunt was still spasming, a quick jostling that made him spend moments later. Merlin could feel it, and he shut his eyes, gripping Arthur, letting his prince soak deep into his body.
Arthur pawed sleepily at his breasts and exchanged a few careless kisses before turning onto his side and burrowing into the pillows. He drew Merlin close, tucking their legs together. “You can stay and sleep here until the morning,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll take you again, if you’ll have me,” he added, and they shared a laugh.
Merlin tried to ignore the pang of loss he felt as Arthur’s breathing slowed into sleep.
He waited until he was sure Arthur would not wake and then slipped out of the bed, dressing, and then trotting hastily down the corridors to his own room. Even though the spell was beginning to take a toll on his strength, he did not change back yet. Instead, he lay in his bed under the blankets and slid two fingers into himself. He drew out their mingled fluids, his sap and Arthur’s seed, and lapped it up, like a forbidden taste of sugar-plums, stolen from the kitchen.