Story - Silk and dragons
Oct. 23rd, 2010 11:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thismazTitle - Silk and dragons
Author - Maz
Rating: NC17
Summary: Future fic. Total PWP. Arthur discovers something that shouldn't be there, just outside his castle.
Word Count: 3,600
Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparrow2000, for which, many, many thanks.
Note - Here I am, up to my neck in RL at the busiest time of my year and trying, in between times, to write a serious sort of story, when this PWP gets in the way. It's taken ages and in the meantime my other story has totally stalled. I guess that's what these boys will do to you.
Disclaimer: here.
Silk and dragons
The gate was a mottled thing, hanging crooked from its aged hinges. Fully as tall as him, it was set into an even higher hedge that almost obscured it with growth. Through the gaps between its planks Arthur could see hints of bright sunlight and blue sky.
He had to lift it and push with his shoulder to open it. As a result, although he automatically checked for any immediate threat, his concentration was mostly on the gate itself as he forced it past the ridge of earth and rotten leaves that had gathered around its foot. Only when it was hard up against its post, did he look up to properly survey the land beyond.
He was standing at the edge of a hay meadow that really shouldn't have been there. The grass stood almost knee-high, waving languidly in a light breeze and close enough to mowing that the full seed heads produced a silver patina upon the green. Among the grasses, wild flowers created a complex tapestry of red, yellow and blue.
The land sloped gently down towards a stand of trees that seemed to mark the path of a river, judging by the glinting light reflected into the air between them. That was also not supposed to be there. But what caught and held his eye, was a small, round pavilion. It was incongruous and he'd have thought it a folly built by some rich lord with a yen for antiquity, if this whole phenomenon were not standing less than a hundred yards from Camelot's postern gate.
Built from what appeared to be white marble, the pavilion was no larger than his personal chamber. A low perimeter wall was topped by classical, fluted columns. They in turn supported deep arches, below which falls of pale fabric rippled in the breeze, suggesting that the arches went all the way around the building, and it was crowned by a pure white dome.
He walked cautiously towards it, each footfall crushing the grass beneath his feet. With his left hand on the scabbard and his right grasping the hilt, he was ready to draw his sword to defend himself if anything threatened. Nothing did.
When he was barely ten paces away, he paused and looked back. Beyond the hedge he could see the tops of the castle towers. Apart from that, there was only the field. Behind him he could hear birdsong from the trees. Grasshoppers chirped in the grass. Bees buzzed among the flowers. It was peaceful; none of the busy sounds of Camelot town reached past the hedge to disturb the calm.
The path of his passage down the hill was clearly drawn and at the end of it, the gate appeared to have been closed again. Lips tightening, he decided to deal with that problem, if it proved to be one, after he had finished investigating the strange invasion of his lands.
Squaring his shoulders, he marched up the three shallow steps that led to the only visible, full height opening in the wall. He pushed aside the silk curtain, took a cautious step inside, and stopped to stare.
Light flooded the room through the thin curtains, which did indeed circle the space, illuminating a riot of colour. The floor was a complex mosaic of exotic marble. The walls and columns were painted in rich jewel colours, with sinuous, knotwork dragons climbing the columns, while lions, deer and hunting dogs chased each other around the walls below them. Above his head, the underside of the dome was a deep, rich blue, dotted with stars, and at the apex a huge, gold dragon spread its wings across the painted sky.
All this he took in in a moment, with his battle-trained eye, because his attention focussed on the vision before him. Next to a small silver fountain fashioned in the shape of a naked serving boy pouring wine into a shell at his feet, from which the heady scent of honey and alcohol wafted towards him, stood a throne like chair upon which sat a slim, young man. He held a silver goblet which he lifted to his lips and sipped from, his eyes closing for a moment as he did so. Arthur was impressed by his cool confidence.
The young man half opened his eyes and gazed at Arthur across the rim, his expression almost coy, if it were not so challenging. Lowering the goblet, he rose to his feet. "Welcome to Xanadu, my lord," he said. His voice was soft, but not particularly cultured and the note of invitation was unmistakable.
"Xanadu?" asked Arthur sceptically.
In reply, the young man grinned and some of his mysterious exoticism dissipated, like morning mist on a hot day. "Why yes, my lord." He swept his arm around, indicating the room. "This is the pleasure-dome."
Arthur gave a surprised snort of laughter. "Is it indeed?" he asked. "And what, exactly, is it doing in a field in Camelot?"
The young man took a step towards Arthur. He was wearing a white silk tunic clasped at the waist by a rope belt, that left his long, slim legs exposed at mid-thigh. It was fixed at one shoulder by a golden brooch in the shape of yet another dragon, this one crafted to appear as if crawling down over his collarbone. The whole ensemble was reminiscent of something Arthur had seen in a book about the Romans, when their civilisation extended to Albion and across the known world. "I'm Merlin," he said.
It appeared that Merlin felt his name was sufficient introduction, because he said no more. He simply waited expectantly.
That was not a game Arthur was going to play. He made a rolling gesture with his free hand. "And?" he asked.
Merlin appeared momentarily disconcerted, but he rallied. "This is a place for pleasure and relaxation. There is no need to fear."
Straightening, Arthur replied, "I'm not afraid of you."
With a smile of agreement, Merlin bowed his head. "Of course not, my lord, how could you be?" He lifted the goblet towards Arthur and asked, "Would you care for a drink?"
Feeling more confident, now that he had clearly established the upper hand, Arthur smirked. "Is that all you have to offer?" he asked, adding, "How do I know it's not poison?"
Ignoring the second question, Merlin placed the goblet down on a small table and stepped closer. "I have much more to offer, my lord; I was merely being polite. But," he sank gracefully to his knees at Arthur's feet and placed his hands on Arthur's hips. "if you wish to bypass the pleasantries, we could move straight to the pleasure." Laying his cheek against Arthur's thigh, he turned his face in and nuzzling at Arthur's crotch.
Almost against his will, Arthur's right hand reached out to Merlin's head. He combed his fingers through Merlin's hair and cupped his scalp. Merlin pulled back and looked up at Arthur from beneath heavy lids. His hands brushed across the front of Arthur's hips to the lacings of his breeches and paused. Arthur knew that he should push the boy away and challenge his appearance and intentions, but instead he pulled Merlin's face in to his stomach and Merlin nuzzled at him again, like a kit to its dam.
The curtains hung free between the pillars and provided no place for an assassin to hide. Apart from the fountain, the small table and the chair, the only other furnishing was a large pile of cushions, but even that was too low and too small to hide a grown man. As brothels went, it was the most luxurious and unusual Arthur had ever seen. How it had appeared next to his castle, he no longer questioned. That it was there was, at that moment, enough.
A fleeting concern that many beautiful things had proved dangerous to his health in the past, was banished as if it had never formed when Merlin pulled back a second time and went to work undoing his sword belt and the lacings of his breeches. Without thinking, Arthur widened his stance and took the weight of the blade as his belt came loose, allowing his only weapon to fall to the floor. A moment later his cock was free and Merlin was mouthing softly along its length. Arthur lifted his left hand to join his right on Merlin's head as Merlin pulled his breeches down to his knees.
Merlin ran his hands up the outside of Arthur's thighs, stroking inwards at the top, to his groin, brushing lightly over the smooth, soft skin. Arthur felt his cock stiffen, in spite of the ridiculous exposure of his position. One of Merlin's hands reached back to cup and squeeze his balls, sending a shiver of delightful sensation up Arthur's spine. His back arched as he involuntarily lifted himself onto his toes.
The hand released him for a moment, and then slid further back to stroke his hole. Where Merlin had got the grease from, Arthur couldn't guess, but his touch was both teasing and slick. Arthur's cock twitched and his eyes closed as he let his head fall back. When he opened them again, he was staring at the dragon on the ceiling. It gazed down at him with emerald eyes and there was something in its painted face that looked like a smirk.
One of Merlin fingers pressed gently inside Arthur's body, wrenching his attention back. He groaned, pushing into the touch and looked down just as Merlin took the tip of his cock into his mouth and started to suck and tease the head. The contrast of the wide pressure from Merlin's finger, with the pointed, shifting stimulation of his lips and tongue sent such confusing messages to Arthur's brain that he swayed under the assault. "Oh gods, yes," he gasped.
His entire body was thrumming. Locking his knees, he prayed for the strength to stay upright. When Merlin's other hand joined his mouth and he started to stroke Arthur's cock near the base, while continuing to suck at the head, Arthur thought he might lose his battle and his dignity entirely, and when Merlin swallowed what felt like his entire length into his throat, he feared he really would collapse.
His left hand tightened in Merlin's hair, while his right shifted to Merlin's shoulder. The sharp edge of the golden dragon broach dug into his palm, giving him a momentary focus that steadied his knees. The white silk under his fingertips was as smooth as cream, shifting over Merlin's skin as he curled his fingers, seeking something to hang on to, while Merlin's clever tongue teased him and he concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply, to stave off the threatened release that would bring a premature end to his pleasure.
When Merlin pulled his head back and allowed Arthur's cock to fall from his mouth, for a terrible moment Arthur was afraid he was going to stop. He caught Merlin's eye. Merlin smiled, dropped a light kiss on the tip, which ended with a strong lick along his slit, then, before Arthur could even gasp out a demand that he do it again, he leaned forward and swallowed Arthur's entire length once more. At the same time, he pushed his finger further inside and rubbed at the spot that made Arthur's heart stutter. White heat exploded across Arthur's vision, his entire body went rigid with shock and he almost screamed. Dragging in a huge lungful of air, he managed to gasp, "Again!"
Merlin obeyed and although, the second time, it was not so intense, still Arthur groaned as pressure uncoiled from the pit of his stomach, coursing down his legs and along his arms so his hand clenched in Merlin's hair in a way that must have been painful. He couldn't find the space to care. Nor, apparently, could Merlin, who gave one more, hard stroke of Arthur's cock with his other hand, then another, and transferred his grip to Arthur's hip, just in time to help him stay balanced, because Arthur was coming hard.
Arthur's knees finally decided that they had to give way and he staggered. Merlin pulled his finger free of Arthur's hole and grabbed his other hip, holding him firm. Since he didn't take violent advantage of Arthur's weakened state in order to kill him, Arthur collapsed forward over him, breathing hard.
After a few minutes, during which Merlin patiently supported his weight, Arthur braced his hands on Merlin's shoulders and pushed himself upright. "Wha-?" he gasped.
Merlin resumed his interrupted task of undressing him. "Very eloquent, my lord," he said, as he invited Arthur to lift his feet, one at a time, to facilitate the removal of his breeches and boots. His voice was not mocking. Rather he sounded amused, in a way that invited Arthur to share in his enjoyment. Arthur found himself smiling in reply.
Getting to his feet and taking Arthur's right hand in his own, Merlin led Arthur across to the pile of cushions beyond the fountain, retrieving the goblet from the table on the way. He sank down and Arthur followed.
Merlin handed the goblet to Arthur and Arthur propped himself on one elbow to drink. The warm mead rolled across his tongue, true liquid honey, enticing and intoxicating. Silk and velvet were soft and luxurious against his arse as he leaned into the embrace of the cushions. The decadent sensation somehow made him feel more naked than plain, crisp, linen sheets ever could. All his muscles were slack and relaxed. He watched with fascination as Merlin crouched between his knees and ran his hands up Arthur's shins and he fancied he could feel each hair tickle against his skin as it was pushed against its natural direction. When Merlin bent forward and laid a kiss on the inside of his thigh, he hissed a sharp in-breath. The touch of Merlin's lips made his balls ache with a soft and insistent longing and sent threads of want into his belly and up to his chest. Placing the goblet on the floor, he leaned back on both elbows, with only his head and shoulders raised from their informal bed, so that he could watch in comfort.
Merlin moved forward slowly, running his lips up the inside of Arthur's leg. Each butterfly-light caress, each teasing touch, caused the heat to pool and swirl at Arthur's core. When he reached the top, Merlin stopped and sucked on the skin next to Arthur's balls. Arthur collapsed back as his elbows gave way and arched his hips up towards Merlin's mouth. He was not ready to go again, but his body made a valiant attempt. His blood throbbed in his veins and every inch of his skin sizzled and sparked with a desire that was coalescing into need.
Merlin hooked his elbows under Arthur's knees and Arthur did the rest, lifting his legs up to Merlin's shoulders. Merlin leant forward bending Arthur in half and forcing his arse into the air. From somewhere, under one of the cushions or some secret pocket in his tunic, Merlin produced a small, lidded bowl of grease. He thumbed off the lid, lodged the bowl in the junction of two cushions and dipped his fingers in. Arthur noticed that his hand was shaking and a warm sense of satisfaction washed through him, knowing that he'd brought this obvious professional-in-pleasure to such a point.
Once again, Merlin slid one finger between Arthur's cheeks and gently pressed against his hole, rubbing around the rim with just enough pressure to make Arthur squirm. He pushed two fingers inside.
Arthur groaned, pressing his arse down against the touch. "Now," he gasped.
Merlin's eyes were glassy and his mouth was slack. His entire face was relaxed and his arms, supporting Arthur's weight, were vibrating with effort. Arthur grinned. "Come on, then," he taunted. "Show me what you've got."
Merlin's eyes snapped into focus on Arthur's own and his mouth curved into a strained smile. "Certainly, my lord," he replied with desperate calm. "I live to serve. I am confident I can satisfy your desires."
As he said it, he rubbed the pressure point inside Arthur's arse and Arthur gasped. "Cocky little game bird, aren't you?" he forced out between clenched teeth.
Merlin grinned, back in control again. "Oh, definitely," he agreed, although his voice was still strained. He removed his hand and brought his prick up to Arthur's hole. "Very cocky," he added as he pressed forward. "And not so very little."
Merlin pushed the head of his cock inside and paused for a moment, panting. Giving himself over, Arthur allowed his full weight to rest against Merlin's shoulders.
Apparently taking that for consent, Merlin began to lean forwards in a smooth, controlled press. Arthur groaned and consciously relaxed the muscles that had automatically tensed under Merlin's assault. Above him, Merlin's face was screwed up, his eyes tightly closed.
"Come on," Arthur said, trying to make it sound like an order, and failing miserably.
Merlin opened his eyes and Arthur saw the muscles of his face, neck and shoulders relax. He grinned down at Arthur. "Oh, bugger it," he said.
Arthur wanted to reply with a snarky pun, but Merlin chose that moment to push fully inside him and all pretensions to speech were ripped away. He scrabbled for something to grab hold of among the cushions as Merlin pulled back. Merlin shifted his balance and his next push pressed into that sensitive spot inside. Language returned with an explosive "Oh fuck!" repeated when Merlin pulled back and pressed forward again.
Arthur spread his arms wide and let it happen. One of his legs slipped from Merlin's shoulder and he wrapped it around Merlin's waist. His breaths explosively echoed Merlin's grunts as Merlin sped up his thrusts. Arthur's prick was trying to fill again, in response to the pressure that was building in his core. His entire being was as taut as a bowstring and as ready to fly as an arrow nocked to it.
Merlin pressed more weight onto Arthur's thigh so his cock rubbed more firmly against Arthur's sensitive spot and Arthur cried out as the pressure ratcheted up one more notch. Then he was laughing and gasping and groaning, as his cock attempted to shoot seed that his body could not produce and his shoulders froze in a tight knot of pleasure.
Merlin's grunts turned to gasps and his thrusts became ragged and desperate, until he cried out with a sound like loss and joy together.
Gradually, Merlin slowed to a smooth rhythm and stopped, while Arthur gazed up at the dragon on the ceiling and attempted to catch his breath. Once he could manage a coherent thought, he looked down at Merlin. He couldn't see his face, because Merlin's head hung from sagging shoulders.
After a moment Merlin looked up, a fond and rueful smile twisting his lips. He moved, allowing Arthur's legs to slide down, just before he collapsed. Arthur was grateful that he managed to tip himself to the side as he did so.
Arthur reached out his arm and pulled Merlin to him. He closed his eyes and took two long, calming breaths.
When he opened them again, he was in his own bed, in his own chambers, and Merlin was sprawled on his front next to him, his right arm across Arthur's chest. Arthur allowed his head to flop to the side and looked Merlin in the ear. "Xanadu?" he asked.
Groaning, Merlin rolled over until he was on his side and facing Arthur. "I have no idea," he admitted. "It all comes from you. Something you read once?"
Arthur smiled. "Nor have I," he agreed. "I don't think so; for all that I'd love to take the credit."
With a small huff of laughter, Merlin flopped a heavy right hand at Arthur's shoulder. "Never stopped you before," he observed. He shifted, so he could prop his head on his left hand and peer down into Arthur's face. "And what was with the white, silk tunic, my lord?" he asked.
Arthur smirked back. "It's a very practical design," he protested, lifting Merlin's right hand to his mouth and depositing a light kiss on his palm. He contemplated the likelihood of him commissioning such a garment from the castle seamstress. The embarrassment factor was daunting, but the results might make it worthwhile. Another thought struck him and he smiled. "I did enjoy the novelty of your deference, however," he observed lazily. A derisive snort told him it would, in all likelihood, remain a novelty.
"I should get up," he said, suiting his actions to his words by rolling into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
Merlin shuffled over and wrapped himself around Arthur's back. "It's early, yet. Your kingdom can wait for an hour," he wheedled, adding, "A tired king makes bad choices," in a voice that so perfectly mimicked Ælfric, the bard, when he was recounting the role of the evil seductress, that Arthur almost choked on the burst of laughter that escaped him.
Glancing across at the window, he saw that it was, indeed, not yet full light. He shifted around, leant down and nuzzled at Merlin's ear before climbing over him and back into bed. Sliding his arm under Merlin's neck he pulled him close, tangling their legs together. "Okay," he agreed in a long-suffering voice. Merlin gave a quiet snort into Arthur's neck.
A few more minutes would do no harm. His counsellors could wait. It would do them good.
A/N: Xanadu (in this context) and the pleasure-dome come from the poem, Kubla Khan, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, which begins:
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
Since both Kubla Khan and Coleridge were born considerably after Arthur's and Merlin's time, I have no explanation for their appearance in this story.
A/N2: The fantasy sex game is such a well-established trope in fandom that I had to try it out on these two. Merlin's magic made it a virtual imperative. I hope you enjoyed my little game and, if you did, would love to hear from you. I won't write any less if you don't say anything, it's just really nice for me if you do.
Author - Maz
Rating: NC17
Summary: Future fic. Total PWP. Arthur discovers something that shouldn't be there, just outside his castle.
Word Count: 3,600
Betaed by
sparrow2000, for which, many, many thanks.Note - Here I am, up to my neck in RL at the busiest time of my year and trying, in between times, to write a serious sort of story, when this PWP gets in the way. It's taken ages and in the meantime my other story has totally stalled. I guess that's what these boys will do to you.
Disclaimer: here.
Silk and dragons
The gate was a mottled thing, hanging crooked from its aged hinges. Fully as tall as him, it was set into an even higher hedge that almost obscured it with growth. Through the gaps between its planks Arthur could see hints of bright sunlight and blue sky.
He had to lift it and push with his shoulder to open it. As a result, although he automatically checked for any immediate threat, his concentration was mostly on the gate itself as he forced it past the ridge of earth and rotten leaves that had gathered around its foot. Only when it was hard up against its post, did he look up to properly survey the land beyond.
He was standing at the edge of a hay meadow that really shouldn't have been there. The grass stood almost knee-high, waving languidly in a light breeze and close enough to mowing that the full seed heads produced a silver patina upon the green. Among the grasses, wild flowers created a complex tapestry of red, yellow and blue.
The land sloped gently down towards a stand of trees that seemed to mark the path of a river, judging by the glinting light reflected into the air between them. That was also not supposed to be there. But what caught and held his eye, was a small, round pavilion. It was incongruous and he'd have thought it a folly built by some rich lord with a yen for antiquity, if this whole phenomenon were not standing less than a hundred yards from Camelot's postern gate.
Built from what appeared to be white marble, the pavilion was no larger than his personal chamber. A low perimeter wall was topped by classical, fluted columns. They in turn supported deep arches, below which falls of pale fabric rippled in the breeze, suggesting that the arches went all the way around the building, and it was crowned by a pure white dome.
He walked cautiously towards it, each footfall crushing the grass beneath his feet. With his left hand on the scabbard and his right grasping the hilt, he was ready to draw his sword to defend himself if anything threatened. Nothing did.
When he was barely ten paces away, he paused and looked back. Beyond the hedge he could see the tops of the castle towers. Apart from that, there was only the field. Behind him he could hear birdsong from the trees. Grasshoppers chirped in the grass. Bees buzzed among the flowers. It was peaceful; none of the busy sounds of Camelot town reached past the hedge to disturb the calm.
The path of his passage down the hill was clearly drawn and at the end of it, the gate appeared to have been closed again. Lips tightening, he decided to deal with that problem, if it proved to be one, after he had finished investigating the strange invasion of his lands.
Squaring his shoulders, he marched up the three shallow steps that led to the only visible, full height opening in the wall. He pushed aside the silk curtain, took a cautious step inside, and stopped to stare.
Light flooded the room through the thin curtains, which did indeed circle the space, illuminating a riot of colour. The floor was a complex mosaic of exotic marble. The walls and columns were painted in rich jewel colours, with sinuous, knotwork dragons climbing the columns, while lions, deer and hunting dogs chased each other around the walls below them. Above his head, the underside of the dome was a deep, rich blue, dotted with stars, and at the apex a huge, gold dragon spread its wings across the painted sky.
All this he took in in a moment, with his battle-trained eye, because his attention focussed on the vision before him. Next to a small silver fountain fashioned in the shape of a naked serving boy pouring wine into a shell at his feet, from which the heady scent of honey and alcohol wafted towards him, stood a throne like chair upon which sat a slim, young man. He held a silver goblet which he lifted to his lips and sipped from, his eyes closing for a moment as he did so. Arthur was impressed by his cool confidence.
The young man half opened his eyes and gazed at Arthur across the rim, his expression almost coy, if it were not so challenging. Lowering the goblet, he rose to his feet. "Welcome to Xanadu, my lord," he said. His voice was soft, but not particularly cultured and the note of invitation was unmistakable.
"Xanadu?" asked Arthur sceptically.
In reply, the young man grinned and some of his mysterious exoticism dissipated, like morning mist on a hot day. "Why yes, my lord." He swept his arm around, indicating the room. "This is the pleasure-dome."
Arthur gave a surprised snort of laughter. "Is it indeed?" he asked. "And what, exactly, is it doing in a field in Camelot?"
The young man took a step towards Arthur. He was wearing a white silk tunic clasped at the waist by a rope belt, that left his long, slim legs exposed at mid-thigh. It was fixed at one shoulder by a golden brooch in the shape of yet another dragon, this one crafted to appear as if crawling down over his collarbone. The whole ensemble was reminiscent of something Arthur had seen in a book about the Romans, when their civilisation extended to Albion and across the known world. "I'm Merlin," he said.
It appeared that Merlin felt his name was sufficient introduction, because he said no more. He simply waited expectantly.
That was not a game Arthur was going to play. He made a rolling gesture with his free hand. "And?" he asked.
Merlin appeared momentarily disconcerted, but he rallied. "This is a place for pleasure and relaxation. There is no need to fear."
Straightening, Arthur replied, "I'm not afraid of you."
With a smile of agreement, Merlin bowed his head. "Of course not, my lord, how could you be?" He lifted the goblet towards Arthur and asked, "Would you care for a drink?"
Feeling more confident, now that he had clearly established the upper hand, Arthur smirked. "Is that all you have to offer?" he asked, adding, "How do I know it's not poison?"
Ignoring the second question, Merlin placed the goblet down on a small table and stepped closer. "I have much more to offer, my lord; I was merely being polite. But," he sank gracefully to his knees at Arthur's feet and placed his hands on Arthur's hips. "if you wish to bypass the pleasantries, we could move straight to the pleasure." Laying his cheek against Arthur's thigh, he turned his face in and nuzzling at Arthur's crotch.
Almost against his will, Arthur's right hand reached out to Merlin's head. He combed his fingers through Merlin's hair and cupped his scalp. Merlin pulled back and looked up at Arthur from beneath heavy lids. His hands brushed across the front of Arthur's hips to the lacings of his breeches and paused. Arthur knew that he should push the boy away and challenge his appearance and intentions, but instead he pulled Merlin's face in to his stomach and Merlin nuzzled at him again, like a kit to its dam.
The curtains hung free between the pillars and provided no place for an assassin to hide. Apart from the fountain, the small table and the chair, the only other furnishing was a large pile of cushions, but even that was too low and too small to hide a grown man. As brothels went, it was the most luxurious and unusual Arthur had ever seen. How it had appeared next to his castle, he no longer questioned. That it was there was, at that moment, enough.
A fleeting concern that many beautiful things had proved dangerous to his health in the past, was banished as if it had never formed when Merlin pulled back a second time and went to work undoing his sword belt and the lacings of his breeches. Without thinking, Arthur widened his stance and took the weight of the blade as his belt came loose, allowing his only weapon to fall to the floor. A moment later his cock was free and Merlin was mouthing softly along its length. Arthur lifted his left hand to join his right on Merlin's head as Merlin pulled his breeches down to his knees.
Merlin ran his hands up the outside of Arthur's thighs, stroking inwards at the top, to his groin, brushing lightly over the smooth, soft skin. Arthur felt his cock stiffen, in spite of the ridiculous exposure of his position. One of Merlin's hands reached back to cup and squeeze his balls, sending a shiver of delightful sensation up Arthur's spine. His back arched as he involuntarily lifted himself onto his toes.
The hand released him for a moment, and then slid further back to stroke his hole. Where Merlin had got the grease from, Arthur couldn't guess, but his touch was both teasing and slick. Arthur's cock twitched and his eyes closed as he let his head fall back. When he opened them again, he was staring at the dragon on the ceiling. It gazed down at him with emerald eyes and there was something in its painted face that looked like a smirk.
One of Merlin fingers pressed gently inside Arthur's body, wrenching his attention back. He groaned, pushing into the touch and looked down just as Merlin took the tip of his cock into his mouth and started to suck and tease the head. The contrast of the wide pressure from Merlin's finger, with the pointed, shifting stimulation of his lips and tongue sent such confusing messages to Arthur's brain that he swayed under the assault. "Oh gods, yes," he gasped.
His entire body was thrumming. Locking his knees, he prayed for the strength to stay upright. When Merlin's other hand joined his mouth and he started to stroke Arthur's cock near the base, while continuing to suck at the head, Arthur thought he might lose his battle and his dignity entirely, and when Merlin swallowed what felt like his entire length into his throat, he feared he really would collapse.
His left hand tightened in Merlin's hair, while his right shifted to Merlin's shoulder. The sharp edge of the golden dragon broach dug into his palm, giving him a momentary focus that steadied his knees. The white silk under his fingertips was as smooth as cream, shifting over Merlin's skin as he curled his fingers, seeking something to hang on to, while Merlin's clever tongue teased him and he concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply, to stave off the threatened release that would bring a premature end to his pleasure.
When Merlin pulled his head back and allowed Arthur's cock to fall from his mouth, for a terrible moment Arthur was afraid he was going to stop. He caught Merlin's eye. Merlin smiled, dropped a light kiss on the tip, which ended with a strong lick along his slit, then, before Arthur could even gasp out a demand that he do it again, he leaned forward and swallowed Arthur's entire length once more. At the same time, he pushed his finger further inside and rubbed at the spot that made Arthur's heart stutter. White heat exploded across Arthur's vision, his entire body went rigid with shock and he almost screamed. Dragging in a huge lungful of air, he managed to gasp, "Again!"
Merlin obeyed and although, the second time, it was not so intense, still Arthur groaned as pressure uncoiled from the pit of his stomach, coursing down his legs and along his arms so his hand clenched in Merlin's hair in a way that must have been painful. He couldn't find the space to care. Nor, apparently, could Merlin, who gave one more, hard stroke of Arthur's cock with his other hand, then another, and transferred his grip to Arthur's hip, just in time to help him stay balanced, because Arthur was coming hard.
Arthur's knees finally decided that they had to give way and he staggered. Merlin pulled his finger free of Arthur's hole and grabbed his other hip, holding him firm. Since he didn't take violent advantage of Arthur's weakened state in order to kill him, Arthur collapsed forward over him, breathing hard.
After a few minutes, during which Merlin patiently supported his weight, Arthur braced his hands on Merlin's shoulders and pushed himself upright. "Wha-?" he gasped.
Merlin resumed his interrupted task of undressing him. "Very eloquent, my lord," he said, as he invited Arthur to lift his feet, one at a time, to facilitate the removal of his breeches and boots. His voice was not mocking. Rather he sounded amused, in a way that invited Arthur to share in his enjoyment. Arthur found himself smiling in reply.
Getting to his feet and taking Arthur's right hand in his own, Merlin led Arthur across to the pile of cushions beyond the fountain, retrieving the goblet from the table on the way. He sank down and Arthur followed.
Merlin handed the goblet to Arthur and Arthur propped himself on one elbow to drink. The warm mead rolled across his tongue, true liquid honey, enticing and intoxicating. Silk and velvet were soft and luxurious against his arse as he leaned into the embrace of the cushions. The decadent sensation somehow made him feel more naked than plain, crisp, linen sheets ever could. All his muscles were slack and relaxed. He watched with fascination as Merlin crouched between his knees and ran his hands up Arthur's shins and he fancied he could feel each hair tickle against his skin as it was pushed against its natural direction. When Merlin bent forward and laid a kiss on the inside of his thigh, he hissed a sharp in-breath. The touch of Merlin's lips made his balls ache with a soft and insistent longing and sent threads of want into his belly and up to his chest. Placing the goblet on the floor, he leaned back on both elbows, with only his head and shoulders raised from their informal bed, so that he could watch in comfort.
Merlin moved forward slowly, running his lips up the inside of Arthur's leg. Each butterfly-light caress, each teasing touch, caused the heat to pool and swirl at Arthur's core. When he reached the top, Merlin stopped and sucked on the skin next to Arthur's balls. Arthur collapsed back as his elbows gave way and arched his hips up towards Merlin's mouth. He was not ready to go again, but his body made a valiant attempt. His blood throbbed in his veins and every inch of his skin sizzled and sparked with a desire that was coalescing into need.
Merlin hooked his elbows under Arthur's knees and Arthur did the rest, lifting his legs up to Merlin's shoulders. Merlin leant forward bending Arthur in half and forcing his arse into the air. From somewhere, under one of the cushions or some secret pocket in his tunic, Merlin produced a small, lidded bowl of grease. He thumbed off the lid, lodged the bowl in the junction of two cushions and dipped his fingers in. Arthur noticed that his hand was shaking and a warm sense of satisfaction washed through him, knowing that he'd brought this obvious professional-in-pleasure to such a point.
Once again, Merlin slid one finger between Arthur's cheeks and gently pressed against his hole, rubbing around the rim with just enough pressure to make Arthur squirm. He pushed two fingers inside.
Arthur groaned, pressing his arse down against the touch. "Now," he gasped.
Merlin's eyes were glassy and his mouth was slack. His entire face was relaxed and his arms, supporting Arthur's weight, were vibrating with effort. Arthur grinned. "Come on, then," he taunted. "Show me what you've got."
Merlin's eyes snapped into focus on Arthur's own and his mouth curved into a strained smile. "Certainly, my lord," he replied with desperate calm. "I live to serve. I am confident I can satisfy your desires."
As he said it, he rubbed the pressure point inside Arthur's arse and Arthur gasped. "Cocky little game bird, aren't you?" he forced out between clenched teeth.
Merlin grinned, back in control again. "Oh, definitely," he agreed, although his voice was still strained. He removed his hand and brought his prick up to Arthur's hole. "Very cocky," he added as he pressed forward. "And not so very little."
Merlin pushed the head of his cock inside and paused for a moment, panting. Giving himself over, Arthur allowed his full weight to rest against Merlin's shoulders.
Apparently taking that for consent, Merlin began to lean forwards in a smooth, controlled press. Arthur groaned and consciously relaxed the muscles that had automatically tensed under Merlin's assault. Above him, Merlin's face was screwed up, his eyes tightly closed.
"Come on," Arthur said, trying to make it sound like an order, and failing miserably.
Merlin opened his eyes and Arthur saw the muscles of his face, neck and shoulders relax. He grinned down at Arthur. "Oh, bugger it," he said.
Arthur wanted to reply with a snarky pun, but Merlin chose that moment to push fully inside him and all pretensions to speech were ripped away. He scrabbled for something to grab hold of among the cushions as Merlin pulled back. Merlin shifted his balance and his next push pressed into that sensitive spot inside. Language returned with an explosive "Oh fuck!" repeated when Merlin pulled back and pressed forward again.
Arthur spread his arms wide and let it happen. One of his legs slipped from Merlin's shoulder and he wrapped it around Merlin's waist. His breaths explosively echoed Merlin's grunts as Merlin sped up his thrusts. Arthur's prick was trying to fill again, in response to the pressure that was building in his core. His entire being was as taut as a bowstring and as ready to fly as an arrow nocked to it.
Merlin pressed more weight onto Arthur's thigh so his cock rubbed more firmly against Arthur's sensitive spot and Arthur cried out as the pressure ratcheted up one more notch. Then he was laughing and gasping and groaning, as his cock attempted to shoot seed that his body could not produce and his shoulders froze in a tight knot of pleasure.
Merlin's grunts turned to gasps and his thrusts became ragged and desperate, until he cried out with a sound like loss and joy together.
Gradually, Merlin slowed to a smooth rhythm and stopped, while Arthur gazed up at the dragon on the ceiling and attempted to catch his breath. Once he could manage a coherent thought, he looked down at Merlin. He couldn't see his face, because Merlin's head hung from sagging shoulders.
After a moment Merlin looked up, a fond and rueful smile twisting his lips. He moved, allowing Arthur's legs to slide down, just before he collapsed. Arthur was grateful that he managed to tip himself to the side as he did so.
Arthur reached out his arm and pulled Merlin to him. He closed his eyes and took two long, calming breaths.
When he opened them again, he was in his own bed, in his own chambers, and Merlin was sprawled on his front next to him, his right arm across Arthur's chest. Arthur allowed his head to flop to the side and looked Merlin in the ear. "Xanadu?" he asked.
Groaning, Merlin rolled over until he was on his side and facing Arthur. "I have no idea," he admitted. "It all comes from you. Something you read once?"
Arthur smiled. "Nor have I," he agreed. "I don't think so; for all that I'd love to take the credit."
With a small huff of laughter, Merlin flopped a heavy right hand at Arthur's shoulder. "Never stopped you before," he observed. He shifted, so he could prop his head on his left hand and peer down into Arthur's face. "And what was with the white, silk tunic, my lord?" he asked.
Arthur smirked back. "It's a very practical design," he protested, lifting Merlin's right hand to his mouth and depositing a light kiss on his palm. He contemplated the likelihood of him commissioning such a garment from the castle seamstress. The embarrassment factor was daunting, but the results might make it worthwhile. Another thought struck him and he smiled. "I did enjoy the novelty of your deference, however," he observed lazily. A derisive snort told him it would, in all likelihood, remain a novelty.
"I should get up," he said, suiting his actions to his words by rolling into a sitting position on the edge of the bed.
Merlin shuffled over and wrapped himself around Arthur's back. "It's early, yet. Your kingdom can wait for an hour," he wheedled, adding, "A tired king makes bad choices," in a voice that so perfectly mimicked Ælfric, the bard, when he was recounting the role of the evil seductress, that Arthur almost choked on the burst of laughter that escaped him.
Glancing across at the window, he saw that it was, indeed, not yet full light. He shifted around, leant down and nuzzled at Merlin's ear before climbing over him and back into bed. Sliding his arm under Merlin's neck he pulled him close, tangling their legs together. "Okay," he agreed in a long-suffering voice. Merlin gave a quiet snort into Arthur's neck.
A few more minutes would do no harm. His counsellors could wait. It would do them good.
A/N: Xanadu (in this context) and the pleasure-dome come from the poem, Kubla Khan, by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, which begins:
In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
Since both Kubla Khan and Coleridge were born considerably after Arthur's and Merlin's time, I have no explanation for their appearance in this story.
A/N2: The fantasy sex game is such a well-established trope in fandom that I had to try it out on these two. Merlin's magic made it a virtual imperative. I hope you enjoyed my little game and, if you did, would love to hear from you. I won't write any less if you don't say anything, it's just really nice for me if you do.
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Date: 2010-10-23 04:21 pm (UTC)The next one? *deep breath* Okay. I did do some work on it this week, but it still needs a lot more.