Work Text:
Arthur leaned back against the cushions and gazed contentedly at the little group gathered around the fire. The towers of the citadel loomed behind them, resplendent in the moonlight, the white stone almost glowing against the dark sky. He felt warm and sleepy as the wine sang in his veins, stretched out on the grass after the best birthday he had ever had. The king had given his son and his inner circle the evening off and allowed them to trudge out to this little clearing not far from the castle to enjoy a night of frivolity together.
Gwaine, Percival and Lancelot huddled together, clearly in the throes of some hellishly rude story, if their guffaws of filthy laughter were anything to go by. Elyan, Gwen, Leon and Morgana formed another group, playing some kind of gambling game with rocks. Arthur rolled his eyes - one never betted against his sister, whether coin was involved or not. Finally, his gaze settled upon Merlin who lay only a few feet away, stretched out upon his stomach and creating shapes in the fire with his magic. Arthur watched, fascinated, as Merlin’s eyes turned from clear blue to molten gold and a dragon battle commenced within the flames.
Flopping bonelessly onto his front, Arthur shuffled forward to lie next to his manservant (or, rather, his best friend, if he was being honest with himself), matching his posture with his chin resting upon one fist. Merlin turned to him with a lazy grin.
“Are you drunk, dollophead?” He asked teasingly, face too close. Arthur could smell the wine on his breath.
“Not as drunk as you,” replied the prince, smirking. He leaned a little closer. “Show me some magic, sorcerer.” His voice was low and seductive; he could never help but flirt with Merlin, despite himself. Of course, it never went anywhere - they were friends. The dark haired man raised an eyebrow.
“Any particular requests, sire?” Merlin was mocking him, and Arthur knew it: somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care. With an imperious wave of his free hand, he smiled salaciously.
“Oh, I don’t know. Impress me.”
Considering for a moment before quirking his lips up in a smile, Merlin cupped his hands together in front of his face, before murmuring a single word.
“Blóstmá.”
As always when Merlin performed magic, Arthur focused on the colour of his eyes and wondered how he had managed to avoid noticing for so long. The sight always made him tingle in a way he couldn’t explain - a kind of prickling heat just under his skin that gave him the urge to throw caution to the winds and do impossible things. Raising an eyebrow expectantly, the sorcerer held out the red rose which had appeared in his palm. Arthur pouted.
“I’m not a girl, Merlin!”
“I dress you every day, Arthur, trust me - I’m aware. But you were very jealous when Morgana got flowers and you did not, so… here. Happy birthday.”
A smile tugged unbidden at the corners of Arthur’s lips as he took the single flower delicately between his thumb and forefinger, gazing down at it and then turning to Merlin, bumping their shoulders together and leaning his head close.
“Thank you.”
A burst of laughter made them jerk apart. Arthur’s vision swam a little as he found seven pairs of eyes upon them, each smirk as evil as the next. Morgana raised her goblet in his direction before taking a sip.
“I think we should play a game,” she announced in a tone that made icy dread replace the warm contentedness he had been luxuriating in only moments before. A chorus of assent went around the campfire and Arthur groaned, dropping his head to the blanket underneath him. He chanced a glance at Merlin, hoping for some moral support, but found the sorcerer re-filling their goblets dutifully without looking at anyone.
“How debauched is this lovely evening about to get?” Leon queried, evidently pained at the prospect of his night descending into some kind of hedonistic revel. It was Gwaine who replied.
“Hopefully as depraved as humanly possible.”
Morgana gestured for them all to form a proper circle around the fire and to ensure their goblets were filled with the fine wine they had not-so-subtly pilfered from the king’s private stores.
“So,” she waved a pale hand, ushering them into silence. “This game is called ‘never have I’, and it’s very simple. Someone will call out a thing they have done, and anyone else who has also done that thing will have to take a drink of their wine. For example: never have I ever eaten herb crusted capon - and there, you see? We all have, so we all drink. I am of course hoping that we will be a little less well behaved than simply listing our dietary histories.” She tipped a little wink to Leon at that, who blushed hotly and turned his face away.
Next, it was Gwen’s turn, who flushed prettily and stared into the flames for a moment. Arthur knew she was never one for games like this.
“Never have I ever… kissed someone.” As she spoke her eyes settled on Merlin, before flitting to Arthur and then landing on Lancelot. Interesting, Arthur thought, as he sipped from his drink along with everyone else in the circle and recalled the pleasant embraces he had shared with the serving girl and others over the years. Ah, to be a teenager again. Twenty three had seemed like such a grand old age, then.
“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex.”
That came from Percival, of all people, and to Arthur’s surprise every single person around the circle except for himself and Leon took a sip. He turned an enquiring stare at Merlin, who avoided his gaze and started to whistle. The group laughed, and Arthur pouted once again.
“Jealous, princess?” Gwaine grinned, tossing a roasted nut at his royal head before putting forth his own confession. “Never have I ever been attracted to a person of the same sex.”
“Gwaine, that’s the same thing,” Elyan complained. Gwaine shook his head, eyeing Arthur shrewdly.
“I can assure you, my friend, it is not. So let’s try that again - never have I ever been attracted to a person of the same sex.”
After a thoughtful pause, fewer people drank this time: only Gwaine, Morgana and Merlin - and then, without truly understanding the implication, Arthur also raised his cup to his lips and took a large mouthful of the wine. It burned a little as he swallowed. Once again he felt the weight of their eyes upon him, but refused to rise to the unspoken question. It was one he wasn’t sure he knew the answer to himself.
Instead, he pondered for a moment, chugging down more wine even though he wasn’t supposed to. His head began to swim and the world spun as Merlin took his cup from him to refill. Arthur watched his fingers as they wrapped around the jewel-crusted metal - long, slim and pale. Before he knew what he was saying, the words were tumbling out of his mouth.
“Never have I ever had my fingers up my own arse.”
The silence that fell was deafening. Merlin stared at him with his mouth open, Morgana wrinkled her nose and Gwaine regarded him with more respect than he ever had before. With a shaking hand, Merlin passed Arthur’s drink back to him and the pair locked eyes as they both sipped the liquid before them, every single drop of blood in Arthur’s body rushing south. Gwaine also drank, no surprises there. Arthur barked a loud, free laugh, and fell back onto the pillows behind him, his joy catching and causing everyone to fall about in fits of giggles.
“Arthur Pendragon,” Morgana chided, the wicked grin upon her beautiful face belying her tone. “What on earth would your father think?”
“Ah, fuck what my father thinks. Honestly, men, you’ve got to try it - don’t they, Gwaine? Merlin?”
“Absolutely.”
“Definitely.”
“The last time I came so hard I thought I might pass out and poor Merlin would have to find me lying there naked and covered in my own come like some kind of back room harlot.”
“Oh, what a hardship for him,” sniggered Lancelot with an uncharacteristic eyebrow waggle. Even in the dim light the flush spreading across Merlin’s cheeks was obvious, and Arthur watched unabashedly as he looked anywhere but at the prone prince.
When it came to Merlin’s turn, the ensuing silence was so long Arthur very nearly fell asleep where he lay. The sorcerer’s voice was hesitant when he spoke.
“Never have I ever pleasured myself while thinking about someone I shouldn’t.”
There was no mistaking the way his eyes slid up Arthur’s long, lean legs and higher as he drank, making eye contact and holding it as the prince followed suit, his cup once again almost empty. It took a moment, but eventually every single person in the circle had taken a sip from their cup, and Arthur was feeling utterly sloshed and therefore very mischievous.
“Alright then,” he grinned. “Who were we all thinking about? Gwaine - you start.”
“Every single person around this circle, at least twice,” the knight said without a shred of embarrassment. This caused a laugh and set the others at their ease. They took it in turns to reveal the objects of their impure thoughts.
“I’m much the same as Gwaine - I find you all hideously attractive,” Morgana admitted. “With the exception of you, of course, dear brother,” she added hastily as his eyebrows shot up to his hairline.
“Morgana,” said Leon simply.
“Gwen, Elyan, Merlin - and, believe it or not, you, Arthur,” came Lancelot’s counter.
“Merlin, Morgana and Gwaine.” Gwen’s squeak was mortified, and she stared into the depths of her wine as though hoping to drown in it. Poor thing.
“Morgana and Leon,” added Elyan with a shrug. Leon preened a little to be mentioned.
Finally, Percival gave a noncommittal grunt of, “Lancelot… and Gwaine.”
Arthur and Merlin eyed each other like skittish horses, delicately fingering the rims of their goblets in an almost obscene way.
“I will if you will,” Arthur chuckled breathlessly, moistening his lips and wishing he hadn’t drunk quite so much. By way of answer, Merlin closed the gap between them and captured his lips in a sloppy, messy and utterly filthy kiss. Arthur was impressed, he had to admit. For all he pretended to be an absolute idiot, Merlin most definitely was not, and knew exactly what he was doing with that mouth of his. Cheers and whoops sounded all around them as Arthur groaned audibly into the kiss, too drunk on wine and lust and Merlin to care how absolutely wanton he must look. Experimentally, he flicked his tongue out and tangled it with Merlin’s own, eliciting a breathy exhale from someone nearby - he wasn’t sure who.
It was only then, as Merlin straddled his lap and Arthur tangled fingers into that jet black hair, that he noticed silence had fallen. Had Merlin enchanted them? Opening one eye, he was surprised to find seven faces turned towards them, watching intently. Being watched was something else Arthur often fantasised about, and it made his desire flare even more. Merlin broke the kiss for a moment to look him in the eyes, smiling softly as Arthur pouted and chased after his mouth.
“Just checking,” the sorcerer laughed before diving in once more. Perhaps he wasn’t the only exhibitionist present, Arthur pondered, as Merlin gave an expert circle of his hips and brushed their unmistakable erections together through the fabric of their trousers, causing them both to moan. He gripped the slender man around the waist, rolling his head back as Merlin moved his kisses to the spot just underneath his jaw.
He wondered at the sight the must make, crown prince of Camelot moaning beneath the ministrations of this skinny servant and secret sorcerer. Merlin chose that moment to push him down onto his back, then cup and stroke him through his trousers, initiating a string of expletives that would make even the most seasoned sailor blush. Arthur bucked his hips up towards the friction. He opened his eyes and looked around the circle once again, unsurprised to find others beginning to be affected by the brazen display - Lancelot had an arm thrown around Gwen’s shoulders and was not even trying to hide the hand that had slipped down the front of her dress. Gwaine already had his cock out, the shameless bastard.
Before Arthur knew what was going on, Merlin had pulled back and crawled away a little, pushing up Arthur’s tunic to kiss his stomach while unlacing the front of his trousers and pushing them straight down and off in one smooth movement. Magic, Arthur realised belatedly, as Merlin turned honey coloured eyes up to his face while mouthing at his cock through his smallclothes.
“Please, Merlin,” he heard himself beg. He, Arthur Pendragon, did not beg - and yet here he was, flat on his back in the middle of a field, moaning like a whore in front of all of his friends. Apparently, the man did not need to be asked twice, making short work of exposing his cock to the warm evening air before swallowing it down with a satisfied sigh, like he had been waiting forever to do just that.
There were more sounds from their audience now - rustles of fabric, gasps of pleasure, and even a couple of muttered obscenities. Arthur dragged his gaze from the pale vision below his waist to glance groggily around the circle; most of the others had slipped hands between their legs, clearly enjoying the flagrant display before them. They had begun to drape themselves over each other also, limbs entangled and heads rested on shoulders as they watched.
Embarrassingly quickly, Arthur felt a familiar heat beginning to pool low in his stomach, and he reached down to tangle his fingers in Merlin’s dark locks.
“I’m so close,” he muttered, trying to still the other man’s movements. Merlin only hummed quietly, locking eyes with him and gripping the base of his cock firmly. With his other hand he gathered some of the wetness seeping from Arthur’s cock upon his long, clever fingers and slipped them between Arthur’s legs. The first touches around his rim were feather light and teasing, causing the prince to groan out long and low, apparently to the delight of the onlookers. Grinning, Merlin pulled off his cock and kissed the head of it gently as he breached Arthur’s hole with the tip of his index finger.
“I knew you liked this,” he smiled, biting his lip at the way Arthur clenched around him, one knuckle at a time. “I’ve seen you. Quite a few times. Always by accident, but I can’t help but stay and watch. You’re so greedy for it.”
Merlin began to thrust his finger with a little more determination, biting his sumptuous lip as Arthur keened out loud at the words, sensations and visions Merlin painted.
“Fuck,” grunted the prince. “More, Merlin. Please.”
He sounded utterly destroyed already, and could not contain the burst of short, breathy moans that escaped him when his ridiculous manservant added a second finger, beginning to fuck him a little harder with his hand, trailing his tongue along the underside of Arthur’s cock as he did so.
The air around them was soon thick with the sounds of pleasure: the slick wetness and skin on skin and laboured breathing that comes with lustful abandon. Morgana and Leon had begun to pleasure each other with their hands, while Gwen had moved to all fours before Lancelot, who fucked into her from behind. The other knights stripped their cocks roughly, every single eye still upon the prince and his servant.
Merlin paused in his ministrations for a moment, gazing up at Arthur with an unreadable expression upon his face. When he next kissed the cock in front of him, it was almost worshipful. Merlin slipped a third finger inside while Arthur was distracted, causing him to throw back his head and surprise and pleasure. With a lazy grin, Merlin began to crook his fingers inside, brushing against the spot that Arthur knew so well but had never realised could feel quite this good. His whole body seized with it, icy heat spiking through his limbs and making the taught muscles of his belly flex. Over and over again, Merlin found that spot, taking Arthur apart piece by piece until he was a shuddering wreck in front of him, eyes screwed shut with head thrown back against the ground, back arched obscenely and unable to utter any sounds other than a throaty uh uh uh that went straight to his weeping cock.
For a moment, Arthur’s vision whited out. Then, before he knew it, he was coming. His head shot up and he locked eyes with the man between his legs; Merlin’s mouth had sealed itself around his cock again as he milked him through what felt like an everlasting orgasm, swallowing every drop of seed that Arthur could give. Arthur began to tremble, oversensitive, heart hammering more wildly than he could remember.
Suddenly, the price was bereft of Merlin’s magical fingers, as the sorcerer rose shakily to his knees and whipped out his own cock, which seemed to be achingly hard as he took it in hand.
“Merlin, let me…” began Arthur, but it was too late. Merlin came with a shout of Arthur’s name only a few strokes later, painting Arthur’s thighs, cock and stomach with ropes of seed that the prince found himself gathering on the top of one finger and raising to his lips to taste. Merlin slumped forwards, burying his face in Arthur’s neck and wincing as their softening cocks brushed together. The prince found himself wrapping his arms around the slimmer man, forgetting the drying come on his skin or even his own nakedness below the waist.
The rest of the group were beginning to reach their climaxes. Leon’s head was now between Morgana’s legs, his spent cock hanging heavily between his own as he lapped at her wetness, fingers pumping in and out of her heat with reckless abandon. Her pale fingers tangled in his curls. Gwen finished Lancelot with her hand, smiling serenely as he painted her face with his spend. Gwaine was on his knees before Percival, letting the much larger man fuck his mouth with pleased sounding groans. Elyan, bless him, had slumped backwards, trembling, with his arm tossed over his face.
After a few more obscene sounding minutes, a comfortable silence fell. Arthur began to fidget in discomfort, the bleariness of wine and sex wearing off and leaving him a little red-faced and chilly. As though reading his thoughts, Merlin waved a lazy hand and abruptly they were cleaned and clothed, covered by a thick, warm wolf pelt. The sorcerer snuggled a little further into the prince, seemingly dead-set against ever moving again.
“Happy birthday, Arthur,” Merlin murmured sleepily, planting a sweet, clumsy kiss to the side of Arthur’s neck.
As the fire burned low and their companions began to settle for a night under the stars, Arthur let the thrill of something nameless explode in his heart. Whatever happened from this point forward, he would always remember this night, and the man currently falling asleep in his arm.