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Arthur can barely focus. He’s had enough .
Gwaine’s standing to the side, all sweaty and hot after a good sparring session and it’s… fuck, y’know? Just fuck. Arthur shouldn’t be feeling this way, not at all, because Gwaine would never want someone like him, not when Arthur’s uptight and too prideful and bound by duty, cursed to be too much whilst never being enough and just. Just everything a lot of people would never truly want beyond his position. Everything Gwaine would never want.
Why would Gwaine ever want him when he could get anyone?
But then Gwaine says something to one of the other knights, which sounds a lot like “‘I can’t wait to have you at my mercy and see what else that mouth can do,” and it’s spoken so filthily dirty and utterly crass, all whilst looking like that and Arthur just. Can’t help it. He can feel the last threads of his sanity snapping away.
Immediately, Arthur turns to find the undeserving recipient of such a talk and of course it’s Sir. Fucking. Benjamin. A new knight. The man is younger than Arthur, which explains some of it. He isn’t very aware of the knight’s decorum from when Uther used to be around, often displaying vulnerabilities beyond what some of them (Arthur) was comfortable with.
And as proud as Arthur is about the brotherhood he’s helped build within his men, he wishes he didn’t know them that well (even when he’s pressed to the walls, hiding himself from attention to catch glimpses of normal conversation).
It’s not fair. Gwaine looks so serious too. With Arthur, his flirting is always light hearted, never has any of the lingering touches Gwiane gives to the other knights, never deep and inviting, always just a friendly tease and shove to the shoulder as he guffaws and grins over at him.
It drives Arthur insane.
Too insane actually.
Sir Benjamin can’t even say anything because Arthur barges forward, like a scandalized spouse coming home to find their partner cheating on them, grabbing Gwaine by the front of his shirt and dragging him off to somewhere secluded, away from the rest of the knights. When Sir Benjamin tries to say something, Arthur just glares at him, telling him to keep training with the new squires.
Behind a tent, Arthur pulls Gwaine closer, forcing Gwaine to stumble lower until they’re nose to nose. “ Him , really?”
Gwaine blinks at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”
“Really? Him?” Arthur repeats, growling. He shoves Gwaine up against one of the empty weapon racks stationed near the corner of the tent. “What about me, Sir Gwaine? ” Arthur asks, mocking the way Sir Benjamin calls out Gwaine’s name. Then, more seriously, “What’s wrong with me? Don’t you want to know what my mouth can do as opposed to his?”
Gwaine’s jaw drops a little open as he works it open and close furiously, speechless, before he laughs, squaring his shoulders back and lifting his chin back at Arthur, cocky, pretending to be cool and collected. “Oh yeah? You think you can handle me?”
Arthur looks him deep in the eyes. “Oh I can do so much more than handle you, darling. You. Me. Tonight. Right in my chambers.”
Gwaine blinks, stunned. “Er. For real? I mean, yeah, yeah , sounds good to me.”
Arthur flushes, hit with the reality of everything he’s just said and done. He lets go of Gwaine’s shirt, letting him fall against the weapon rack and turns around, crossing his arms. “Good. Go back to training, Gwaine.”
“Anything for you, Princess,” Gwaine replies, doing a little mock bow before he turns back to where he was previously, a bounce in his step.
Arthur puts his rapidly reddening face in his hands and tries not to scream. Why did he do that? Well, actually, he knows why but knowing why and being prepared for it are two totally different things. He’s too much of a virgin for this. God. Gwaine.
__
When all is said and done and he’s back in his chamber, he considers abandoning his kingdom and running away. He’s barely paying attention to Merlin puttering around the room.
He was in way over his head. The snatches of bedroom conversations he’s heard (eavesdropped) from Gwaine was overwhelming as is, plus, he never knows for sure what Gwaine is implying to do with his tongue and finger. But it’s, he swallows, something .
He needs to do something. But what could he do at this hour?
Turn back time to when he was born to make himself into someone less pathetic?
He can’t disappoint Gwaine. Bile sits on his tongue just at the thought of it.
He cannot disappoint Gwaine.
Instead of continuing to follow that line of thought, Arthur goes to zero in on Merlin, who is blissfully putting away fresh tunics in the wardrobe, instead.
“How would you do it, Merlin?” he chucks an empty goblet at the wall when he’s met with silence.
“ Mer lin, pay attention. I’m talking to you.”
“Yeah, yeah. What is it this time?” Merlin asks, raising a brow from where he’s crouched in front of a cabinet to start dusting. “Stables need mucking again?”
Arthur rolls his eyes good-naturedly, grabbing a shirt to fling it at Merlin half-heartedly. Merlin ducks, giving him a look . “No. This is actually important.”
“So mucking out the stables isn’t important?” Merlin asks, smug.
“Yes. I mean no? Shut up, Merlin.”
Merlin only grins at him, lopsided. “Whatever you say, sire. What’s wrong now anyways?”
“Nothing’s wrong. Why would something be wrong?”
Merlin looks down pointedly. “You’re pacing a dent into the floor.”
“Right. Right,” Arthur says, taking in a deep breath. “Hypothetically– and do keep up, Merlin, I know it’s hard for your brain to wrap around such things, but hypothetically , say I need to impress a man, how should I go about it? What do you think would make them happiest?”
Merlin frowns, giving him his full attention. Comes over to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “I’d say that you wouldn’t need to prove yourself, Arthur. You’re a good man. You should be proud of the man you’ve become. Anyone with brain cells would be happy to have you as their child.”
“What?” Arthur scrunches his nose. What is Merlin on about? How is that going to help him impress Gwaine? “No, like–” Arthur flushes, frustrated. He doesn’t want to say this out loud. But still, he needs the help. “To make him want to come back for more.”
Merlin gives him a long, sorry look. “Arthur, he’s not coming back and that’s okay.”
Arthur frowns, impossibly hurt. “You don’t think he’ll want to come back? How could that possibly be okay?”
“We all have to go through it at one point,” Merlin says gently. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it.”
“Talk about it? I’d rather there be nothing to talk about! In fact, I’m going to prove you wrong.”
“I don’t really think that’s a good idea, Arthur. These things are rather permanent and a natural part of life. I know you still want your father to be proud of you but there’s nothing more you have to do to impress him–”
“Merlin?” Arthur asks, cutting him off, pinching his nose in frustration.
“Shut up?”
“ Shut up ,” Arthur confirms, kicking him out of the room.
__
Sir Benjamin said he did this everyday before he got fucked.
But he is also broader. And thicker. Everywhere .
Arthur folds his breeches, laying it on the end of the bed; anything to give himself another moment to prepare.
This cannot be too difficult. Everyone does it.
Kneeling on bed, thighs spread wide enough apart that Arthur can lean in his hand to touch himself back there, he looks down at his finger. His pointer isn't that long.
He puts it against his body at the crotch for comparison.
Well, that's not long at all.
Arthur braces himself one last time. He's an accomplished man. Your finger isn't that long.
Should it be longer?
He pokes himself with blunt nails, face scrunched up.
He knows that men scrawnier and weaker than him have done this; they do this on a regular basis. It surely cannot be that painful. He’s been on the battlefield since he was a young boy. Seen horrors these men couldn’t come up with in their worst nightmares. Surely , he can do this.
He shoves himself down on the finger, hissing when the nail and calloused skin rub against his insides.
Nothing about this is nice.
What in fresh hell was Benjamin talking about?
He lifts himself and tries again–
“Ow fuck OW FUCKKKKKK.”
He has his index finger inside his arse, up to the knuckle, and it's–
Stuck.
“For goodness sake.” He's NOT whining.
He slumps forward in defeat.
“OW!”
Even the slightest change in posture makes him feel like his insides are being dragged on by a barred rope.
Why on earth did he decide to do this?
Gwaine. Right .
He needs to take this stupid finger out of himself before Gwaine arrives.
He tries doing it slowly, like he heard from Sir Benjamin, and it has him grinding his teeth until he's afraid they'll be left to powder.
Sir Benjamin’s arse is made of wood bark.
He's got himself down to just the tip of his finger, right at the first joint. It's inside him now and this slow method isn't working. He rips it right back out.
Arthur falls face first into the bed and swears.
He knows Gwaine's dick is bigger than his finger. He knows it from multiple people who have successfully taken it up their arse.
He's beyond frustrated with himself.
Trust him to have the weakest arse hole in all of Albion.
Frustrated, he pulls his breeches back on and tries not to pace too much as he panics, waiting for Gwaine to come by. Can he really do this? His hole won’t survive it and Gwaine will be able to tell and it’ll cement all the reasons why he never wanted Arthur in the first place. He probably expected Arthur to be exactly like this–this unfuckable. Unsexy.
Just as he debates calling it all off and leaving to avoid Gwaine for the rest of time itself, there’s a knock on the door.
Arthur swallows. Shit .
He opens it a little, sees Gwaine through the crack of the door, and almost slams it back shut before taking a deep breath and opening it back up again.
Gwaine greets him with a smile. Rough around the edges and roguish with his messy hair, relaxed with his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Hey Princess.”
And Arthur is many things but a coward is not one of them. Desperately, he pulls his shoulders back, lifts his chin, and pretends to be unimpressed with Gwaine even though honestly speaking, Arthur thinks he might explode at any given second.
He looks Gwaine up and down, eyes lingering at the bulge in his breeches as he shifts. Shit. Shit. Shit . What is he going to do? His arsehole isn’t strong enough for this.
Leaning against the side of the doorframe, Arthur crosses his arms together, desperately trying to play it cool. “You’re late.”
“Yeah. Just had to–” Gwaine looks down, following Arthur’s gaze. He rubs his thigh, pulling at the material of his pants. “Was a bit distracted.”
Because he has a boner. Gwaine is late with a boner .
What if he was with Sir Benjamin before this? Oh god he probably was. Why else would he be so hard right now before anything even happened? He knew Arthur was going to be terrible in bed and made adjustments accordingly. Arthur wasn’t going to be enough for him.
Unfairly, jealousy courses through him. That stupid new knight probably Gwaine panting over him. Shirtless. Probably had a hole Gwaine could actually fit in that didn’t hurt like a shit ton of bricks.
Forget not being able to do this. Arthur was Arthur Pendragon , king of Camelot, the best knight in the kingdom, born and bred to handle anything . A little pain wasn’t going to beat him. Sir Benjamin wasn’t going to beat him. Arthur could do this. He could do this. He could so do this. One way or another, Gwaine was going to walk out of this satisfied.
“I’m guessing you’re ready then?” Arthur asks, glaring at his crotch.
Gwaine laughs, abashed and nervous. Does he not think Arthur can perform? He’ll show him what can’t perform really means. “Whenever you are, darling.”
Arthur frowns, pulling him in by the arm and promptly locking the door behind him. Gwaine stumbles right through, grinning weakly at Arthur in such a manner that almost has his knees buckling to the floor right then and there.
Arthur looks away. “Right. Strip, then.”
Gwaine looks over to the bed. “You don’t want to…?”
Arthur can do this but he needs. Needs time. Needs to see how big Gwaine actually is and prepare mentally. He hardens, swallowing past the terror in his throat and crosses his arms once more, using the voice he uses when commanding the knights and armies alike. His knuckles go white from how hard he’s gripping his arms. He hopes Gwaine can’t tell he’s nervous. “I said strip . Do you need me to repeat myself?”
Gwaine whistles, eyebrows raised. “No arguments from here, Princess. Heard you loud and clear.”
Slowly, painfully slowly in fact, Gwaine begins to unbuckle his pants, slipping off his jacket and untying the laces of his tunic, head tilted down all whilst staring up at him through the lashes on his face. Arthur can barely breathe, holding his breath at how tantalizing it all is.
Eventually, after what feels like an eternity and entirely too soon, Gwaine stands before him bare, cocking an eyebrow.
Arthur can’t help looking down at his finger again. The sound of him swallowing his pride resounds loudly throughout the castle.
“Need me to help you undress, Princess?”
“If I needed help, I would have asked, Gwaine. Stay put.”
Before he can think too hard that it’s twice the length of his finger , Arthur pulls off his shirt in one fluid motion, slipping off his breeches once more and placing it all on a pile on the floor.
Gwaine’s jaw drops a little and Arthur has to resist the urge to preen. He knows he looks good. He trains daily and takes care of himself. Probably looks better than Sir Benjamin. Except, Gwaine takes a step forward and Arthur. Full on panics.
“I said stay put!” Arthur shouts before he can even think too much and Gwaine stops, raising both hands.
“Right. Sorry. I just forgot with the…” Gwaine gestures up and down at him weakly, licking his lips. Arthur flushes, whirling around so that Gwaine can’t see his face turn bright red.
“Not yet. We have to–” Think Arthur, think . “Stretch first.”
“Stretch?” Gwaine asks, voice low. Arthur can feel his gaze on his arse.
“Stretch,” Arthur confirms. People usually stretch before sex, right? “You can follow my lead. I think we can agree I’m the better one at this.” He smirks at the way Gwaine’s Adam’s apple bob.
He moves more towards the center of the chamber, expecting Gwaine to follow his command, lunges forward with his right foot in front.
“And now hold the position,” Arthur’s still facing away from Gwaine, missing the way his jaw drops at the sight of his King’s naked arse being pulled taunt to display the ripple of muscles on his thighs.
Also misses the way Gwaine resists the urge to squeeze his palm on the round firmness and follows command, brushing his knee against Arthur’s.
Arthur looks over, and quickly averts his eyes realizing his mistake. Lunges while naked mean that Gwaine’s hard cock is bouncing freely, out and about and so, so close and– He really gets why he’s heard of people getting hot and bothered with these menial exercises.
Feeling more confident about the information he’s gathered and his own ability to execute, he switches to lunge with his left foot and completes the set.
“ Fuck , Princess,” Gwaine grabs at him wildly, looking almost desperate to get hold of any part of him.
Arthur feels something jolt through him and settle low in his body. Desire. The thrill of being wanted.
Whatever it is, it also has him feeling bold.
“Do you feel thoroughly stretched?” Arthur asks, smug. First time and he’s already doing a great job at stretching them both out. He’s heard so many other knights gripe about stretching their partner out and how difficult it can be especially for their first time but this is actually pretty easy? He feels empowered and fucking hot.
“I would have never thought you–” Gwaine pulls him closer, faces pressed together.
“Yes, Sire. I am.”
The rush of warm breath on his cheek is the only warning Arthur gets before his mouth is being devoured.
Gwaine holds his face tight under his jaw, making Arthur purse his lips, only then to lick and bite them.
Arthur is like putty in his hands, melting underneath them. Gwaine’s eyes are a warm deep brown, hungry and starved and so fucking dialated that Arthur can’t help it. Mindlessly, he whimpers, gasping. Gwaine’s hands are so fucking big and warm and all he can think about is Gwiane here, choosing to be next to him, and Arthur doesn’t even know what’s coming out of his mouth other than the fact it’s something to do with Gwaine, breathy and whimpering and just, “ Gwaine.”
Just like that, almost like a candle being lit in the flick of an eye, Gwaine growls, kissing him greedily and wildly once more, to the point where they break apart Arthur is desperately grasping for air, and then Gwaine is throwing him on the bed and flipping him around easily, like Arthur barely weighs a thing. Arthur buries his face into his arms as Gwaine hovers over him, breathing into his ear, hot and heavy.
Face still buried in his arms, he feels Gwaine start kissing down his back; from his shoulder blade to the jut of his spine and at the junction of his hip. Arthur arches into it, wanting to feel Gwaine more, more, and more .
Gwaine eventually stops, spreading his cheeks apart, exposing Arthur in a way none before have been permitted to. Arthur closes his eyes, breathing in and out evenly, overcome by the vulnerability and sheer wanting of it all.
“Look at you,” he coos, face inches from Arthur’s hole, “What an absolute beauty.”
He nips at his arse, making Arthur groan. His dick is throbbing at Gwaine’s words, at the cadence of his voice, helplessly stuck between his body and the soft sheets on the bed. There’s no point in trying to breathe evenly. Arthur’s going crazy. God. Gwaine .
In that same regard, the sight of Arthur writhing and gasping has Gwaine losing his grip on sanity.
He spits and watches, aim true, Arthur’s pink hole glistening and fluttering.
And that’s all the invitation he needs to plunder, tongue first, into heaven.
Arthur arches off the bed, gasping and moaning. The reality that he is a stranger to all of this is lost to him. Consumed by the warmth and wetness of Gwaine.
None of the overheard talks mentioned tongue. Did they not know? Was this reserved for the King? Was–
The muscle of Gwaine’s tongue catches on his rim and he swears, loud, thinks the whole kingdom of Camelot itself can probably hear the way his brain is rolling right out his eyes as Gwaine works him thoroughly.
“Gwai– God,” he reaches back to grab at Gwaine, getting a hold of his locks. Soft, despite appearances. And then he hears Gwaine slurp and promptly loses all thought of his limbs and what to do with them.
Arthur doesn't know what the noises that come out of his throat are supposed to be.
Arthur feels Gwaine's finger line up next to his tongue.
Arthur clutches at his pillow, torn between the feeling of Gwaine kneading his arse cheeks and the reminder of pain that is to come.
Gwaine pushes in the finger he slicked up with oil, tongue still at the rim, it goes in easily. He's shaking watching Arthur's hole swallow up the finger.
He lifts his head and closes his eyes, trying to get a hold of himself. Else, Gwaine’s afraid he's not going to last much longer. He hasn't finished before his partner since he was a young boy. This was not the time to underperform.
Arthur in turn is gasping, trying to turn his head around. He’s sure he felt Gwaine's finger poke and push in but–
There is no way.
It feels–
It feels uncomfortable, sure, but it’s in no way hurting him. Nothing like what putting his own finger in had felt like.
Gwaine pulls and pushes in, and he must have magic in those hands because each time, the entry eases up. Arthur is pliant enough to not tense up at another finger poking at the entrance.
Soon enough, Gwaine’s got more fingers in Arthur than Arthur thought possible and Gwaine’s back up, inches away from his ear, the stubble of his beard burning against Arthur’s skin and just. Everything is burning, hot and rough and sweaty. Gwaine’s got one arm resting by the side of Arthur’s head, propping him up while the other rests lightly over his hip, grazing his skin.
“You alright if I go in, Princess?”
Arthur’s more than alright. He wants it. But also. God. Blindly, one of his hands reach out to grab onto the hand Gwaine has resting on his hip and like it was always meant to be that way, Gwaine lets his hand get taken in by Arthur’s, intertwining.
“Yeah. Just. Hold my hand please?”
The deep lust in Gwaine’s eyes abate, just by a bit, turning into something a bit softer and enriched in everything that made Gwaine want to stop traveling to pledge his loyalty to Arthur in the first place. His king.
Gwaine stops, whispering a soft, “Of course,” before readjusting.
The fact Arthur trusts him like this has Gwaine’s heart wildly leaping in his throat.
Arthur’s tense though, despite it, and Gwaine wants nothing more than to make it good for him. “Relax Princess,” Gwaine murmurs, tenderly rubbing his thumb against the top of Arthur’s hand, lips mouthing over his ear. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.”
Arthur relaxes. He knows. Gwaine’s got him. Of course he does.
He hadn’t even thought it would be possible to make it this far. To feel this wanted. Gwaine’s found a way to work Arthur open when Arthur couldn’t even stick one finger in, all a little discomforting and strange but not anywhere as painful as he thought it would be. Gwaine’s holding him like he’s worth something. Like he’s precious. Stripped of his crown and his riches and his pride and Gwaine’s holding him like he’s everything. Unbidden, tears spring to Arthur’s eyes, touched.
God.
Gwaine slides in, so fucking hot, so filling , Arthur feels so fucking full it’s insane, can barely breathe by the insanity of it all. His heart is stuck in his throat alongside his words and everything else possible.
His grip around Gwaine’s hand tightens as Gwaine fully slides in before settling.
“You okay, Princess?”
Arthur blinks rapidly. “Yeah.” he groans, “Yeah, just. A minute please.”
“Of course,” Gwaine replies, pressing a kiss on the nape of his neck. “You’re so tight, feel so fucking good and warm all around me, darling. You’re so hot like this. The prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. The prettiest princess by far.”
Arthur whimpers once more, struck.
Gwaine presses another kiss against him, featherlight and beautiful, whispers more and more compliments until Arthur can’t take it anymore and feels more than okay and says raw, “I’m ready.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Arthur says, letting his grip on Gwaine’s hand relax. In response, Gwaine only holds him closer and tighter before rearing back, leaving Arthur wide open and empty, pink and puffy and clenching at air, before sliding back in.
Gwaine can’t help moaning at the feel of Arthur. So tight. So perfect. All around him.
And Arthur is writhing underneath him already, making delicious noises that Gwaine has no hope in resisting.
On the other hand, despite Arthur being okay with bottoming (and he just secretly really fucking likes it) , he knows that people like him aren’t supposed to be this into it. Arthur’s king , born and raised and bred to be in control and a commander at all times. If his father could see him now, he’d throw a fit. Gwaine’s hitting all the right spots though, has Arthur gasping and moaning unbidden, and he brings his hand up to his mouth to try to muffle it only to find it’s the one holding Gwaine’s.
He lets go but Gwaine doesn’t and between– “Fuck, god, Gwa– Sir– Sir Gwaine, fuck,” Arthur gasps, moaning out in delight at the way pleasure and bliss blindly assault him. “ Hand . Let go.”
Somehow Gwaine manages to hear Arthur and lets go, bringing his hand back to get a better angle which does things.
Arthur moans louder, mortifyingly, as his other hand clutches at the sheets and he brings up his newly free hand up to his mouth to bite on, to muffle the sounds he makes. He shouldn’t be this into it. He’s such an embarrassment.
Gwaine readjusts once more, keeps readjusting until he’s deeper and deeper and deeper before he groans, frustrated. “Princess. What am I doing wrong?”
Arthur lets go of his hand to reply, only for Gwaine to slam back in, all at the wrong timing, and there’s nothing to bite onto, so Arthur moans loud once more, and it’s all so good, all too good, holy hell. Gwaine stops inside him, breaking his rhythm and Arthur isn’t sure whether to whine or not.
“You’re trying not to make a sound,” Gwaine accuses, out of breath. His hair falls over his face, messy and hot and everything Arthur wants and more.
“I’m not supposed to–” Enjoy it this so much, Arthur doesn’t say, but Gwaine hears him all the same.
“You’re with me,” Gwaine rumbles soothingly, as if that makes everything okay, the sound of his voice resounding through Arthur’s chest. “Do you not usually bottom?”
I don’t usually anything , Arthur doesn’t say. Instead he closes his eyes and says, clearing his throat, “Not really. I’m not supposed to–” Arthur gasps and tries not to whine as Gwaine slides back out, trying to keep track of what his thought process was. “I’m– I’m supposed to be better than that.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it, Gorgeous. I’d rather hear it. Music to my ears really. Let me hear it?”
“I don’t–”
“Look at your hand,” Gwaine points out, frowning. He brings Arthur’s hand in front of his face, tracing over the bite marks, almost bleeding. “You’re hurting yourself.”
“But I–”
“ Please ?”
“Okay,” Arthur gives in, reluctantly. “You’re awful.”
Gwaine only grins at him. Arthur can feel the way Gwaine’s smile pulls at the edges of his lips against his shoulder.
Except, the more Gwaine handles him, the more Arthur’s thoughts fall away. His hand automatically comes up without him meaning to. Only, this time, Gwaine flips Arthur around once more, pressing his forehead against Arthur’s, looking him dead in the eyes as he leads Arthur’s hand away from his mouth to replace it with his own.
“Bite me if you have to. I don’t want you hurting yourself any more than you have to, okay?”
Except Arthur’s not going to fucking do that. Not by a longshot. He’s not going to hurt him. He groans, filthy and loud and wet around the fingers of Gwaine’s hands, tasting himself from when Gwaine had it in him, and shit, shit , he doesn’t bite and instead he grows louder and louder, wild and absolutely dirty and unable to think straight.
He swears he can feel Gwaine's thrusts in his chest. He feels whole the way he's being held, one hand in his mouth and one on his hips.
“Are you close?” Gwaine pulls on his mouth as he thrusts, “Are you close, Arthur? ”
He moans his King's name, feeling strange without the honorific.
Arthur hums around his finger again as Gwaine pulls it out.
He wants to hear Arthur scream his name for the next part.
He twists Arthur's nipple with his wet fingers, slow and deliberate, he wants to learn Arthur's body. Wants to learn what makes him moan louder and what makes him arch his back.
He pulls his hand as he thrusts in and flicks at the bud.
“Gwaaaii–” and he learns what makes Arthur scream. “Fuckk, what is this– oh fuck !”
Arthur is writhing beneath him and Gwaine's not going to last when his liege is wrapping his legs around him and throwing his head back exposing the long tense line of his neck.
So he brings both his hands to play with Arthur's chest, twisting and flicking while Arthur thrashes beneath him.
“Oh that's– ohh my Lords– they're so ughhmmm…”
“You like that, princess? You like your pretty tits being played with? This what you wanted when you were showing them off?” Gwaine asks, slyly grinning down at him, sounding incredibly pleased with himself. Both hands on the nipples, his fingers dig in as he rears back before slamming back in at just the right angle, nothing like anything Arthur’s ever felt before.
Arthur’s mind blanks, unable to think a coherent thought. All he knows is the feeling is blinding. It hits and it just fucking hits. Everything is grainy, staticking with pleasure. He’s making sounds he didn’t think himself capable of, nipples still being played with by Gwaine’s fingers as Gwaine slams out and then back in again, slow and steady over and over again. It’s overwhelming, feels good in a way that shouldn’t be possible, hot and steamy, filling him to the brim. It’s enough to want to make Arthur sob. He can’t believe prior to this moment he’s had to live without ever having felt this before. He wants more and more of it, wants it, wants it, wants it, but then Gwaine twists his fingers just as he slams back in one more, and Arthur can’t help gasping, shifting off the bed, mouth open in a yell, the spray of come surprising them both landing on his chest and Gwaine's hair.
It makes Gwaine feel crazy, if he's being honest, that he's able to do this. The sight of Arthur red faced, and covered in sweat and come is riling him up more than anything.
Gwaine speeds up, chasing his own release while Arthur's spent cock spurts weakly. His hands are still playing with Arthur when he loses the battle, their combined moans echoing indistinguishably.
Arthur's eyes are so soft and glazed, staring up at Gwaine like he gifted the blonde something stunning. Gwaine almost doesn't want to pull out. Arthur has always been his solid ground; where he wanted to settle down and make a home.
Arthur whines from under him, trying to escape.
“Hold on Princess,” Gwaine grunts, gripping onto him tighter, letting his hands slide down to around his waist. “You think you can hold on a bit longer?”
Arthur tries to say “Yes,” except all that comes out is a weak whine. Instead he nods, looking Gwaine in the eye. Gwaine’s eyes grow darker and just like that, he loses all rhyme or reason. He’s sliding in and out roughly with a loud squelch, slamming in and out like his life depends on it, the room full of nothing but Arthur’s moans and Gwaine’s grunts. It’s overwhelming and too much but Arthur holds on anyways. Arthur isn’t sure he’s going to survive this. Eventually though, Gwaine stills and Arthur’s legs wrap around him just as Gwaine finally comes.
If Arthur thought he felt full before, it’s nothing compared to this. It’s wet and scorching and filling to the point Arthur thinks he’s broke. He feels warmer than he’s ever been before, hotter than he can comprehend, and Gwaine is still squirting. When Gwaine finishes, dick going limp, Arthur can feel it dribbling out of him as his hole clenches and unclenches around Gwaine’s cock. He can’t speak. He can’t even think. All he knows is Gwaine is holding him and Gwaine’s right here.
Arthur whines again though, only louder, when Gwaine finally slips out and some more of the come falls out with it.
“I'm sorry. I'm sorry, it was just so–” Arthur squeezes his hands, taking the fingers off his chest and holding them there. “Too much. I didn’t know it would feel so good. Sorry.” he gives a wet grimace.
“Hey,” Gwaine scolds, leaning forward until their foreheads touch, breath ghosting Arthur’s lips, hands intertwined, pressed together between their chests. “Never apologize for any of that. You’re gorgeous.”
“Yeah?” Arthur asks, shaky. Someone like Gwaine thinking he’s gorgeous? Gwaine, who’s roguish and funny and charming and breathtakingly, loyal and skilled to a fault and someone capable of lighting up any room he walks into, capable of making anybody laugh–even Arthur who feels hard pressed to sometimes–and despite that, Gwaine just. Does it all like it’s easy. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s natural. Gwaine sees all of Arthur’s rough edges and swings an arm around his shoulder and laughs with him anyways, teases him and smiles when Arthur teases back, takes in every word Arthur says like gospel, reverent. Spars like he’s made for it and matches Arthur hit for hit.
“Yeah. Of course yeah. Has none of your other partners ever played with your chest before?” No, not exactly, but with Gwaine it’s so much more than that. It’s. It’s the way Gwaine is holding him, staring into his eyes, so close and everything .
“No.”
“Not one? I’m guessing they never told you how gorgeous you are either? Never told you how easy it is to drown in your eyes? Never told you how being inside you is like being encased in sunlight? Never told you how pretty you are, how precious you are, how loved you are? People everywhere fall over their feet day after day to pledge their allegiance to you, to serve you, and I’m glad I was one of the first. I didn’t think nobles could be trusted but you. You .”
Gwaine’s looking deep into his eyes, like he’s everything. Like Arthur’s the ocean itself and Gwaine is nothing but an anchor happily stuck in it, never to be seen before. His eyes are dark and his heart is soft and Arthur so desperately wants to look away, too overwhelmed by the vulnerability, but he can’t .
“ You exist,” Gwaine says, like it explains everything. Then, befuddled, “They really never told you?”
“ No,” Arthur admits, frustrated, tears pooling in his eyes because Gwaine thinks he’s all this–thinks he’s special but Arthur’s not. He looks down at his lap, ashamed. “No, they didn’t because– because– I’m not. It’s not. I’m not– You’re the first . I’m sorry, okay!? I didn’t mean to be so–” Arthur chokes, trying to find the right words, unfathomably vexed. “So. Undesirable. I can’t help it!”
Gwaine frowns, all at once, letting go of Arthur’s hands to grab him by the waist and hoist him into his lap. He grabs Arthur’s by both sides of his head, leaning closer than before, looking up deep into his eyes, refusing to let Arthur look down, eyes imploring.
“You’re not undesirable,” Gwaine says firmly. Then, “Why would you think such a thing? I’m a little confused, Princess. Walk me through your thought process. Why would you think such a thing? What’s going on?”
Arthur tugs on a loose lock of brunette hair, twirling and twisting it. He’s flattered that Gwaine hasn’t caught on yet; that he has nothing to offer and everyone else in Camelot knows that.
“Same reason why you never flirt with me, I guess.” Arthur tries for nonchalance.
“Believe me, Princess. It is not the same.” Whatever Arthur is thinking of, Gwaine knows that the King isn’t assuming Gwaine to be in love with him so much so that he’s unable to look him in the eye half the time. He’s always had to step away from Arthur after small talks, not trusting himself to stay put together.
“Well then, it’s the same reason no one’s ever flirted with me.” Arthur’s voice grows harder, almost angry, crescendoing violently. Not at Gwaine though. But at himself. “I’m unlovab– forget love . No one’s ever wanted to touch me before.”
It slips out of Arthur before he can stop himself.
“You’re kidding,” Gwaine utters in disbelief, heart in his throat. “I was your first. Like actually? You’re not joking?”
Arthur’s face heats up. “Completely serious. That is what I said.”
Gwaine gives him a long searching look before he deflates, blowing out a loose breath. He looks like he’s at a loss for words.
Instantly Arthur feels ashamed. “Are you disappointed? Disgusted?”
“What?” Gwaine sputters, visibly upset. “No! No. Just, you should’ve told me, Princess. This is. I– Your first . Arthur, you deserve a better first. I would’ve– I wish I gave you so much more for your first than what you got.”
“You gave me plenty. It was perfect enough.”
Gwaine blinks, swallowing. He’s a little frustrated, because Arthur thinks that was perfect and Arthur deserves better than that but he’s also touched and a little overwhelmed. He tries thinking back on everything they did. Did he prepare Arthur long enough? Was he too harsh? Too fast? Too slow? Arthur did say it was too much at the end there didn’t he?
Arthur wanted him for his first, and if Gwaine had known, he would have done everything softer. Gave more reassurance. Took his time with it. Would have given Arthur more time to see what he likes and doesn’t. Unable to voice that all, Gwaine leans forward to pepper kisses all over Arthur’s face instead.
Arthur’s nose scrunches but he also grins at him a little lopsided, pleased. It only frustrates Gwaine more.
“It really wasn’t,” Gwaine ends up refuting, moving to whisper in Arthur’s ear. “See, if I had known, I would have started by kissing you right here.”
Gwaine ducks, letting his lips capture Arthur’s. Immediately Arthur opens his mouth but Gwaine doesn’t stick his tongue in just yet. Instead he holds Arthur’s chin up, sucking on the bottom lip before nibbling and fully savoring the taste of his lips in their entirety. Savors just being able to do this.
Arthur whines though and the sound just does things to Gwaine’s brain and he can’t help it; he swoops in hungrily, lips locking together, hot and sweaty once more, tongue exploring the entirety of Arthur’s mouth. Arthur flicks his tongue and Gwaine takes it up like he was born for it, swirling Arthur’s tongue around his own.
They break apart for air eventually, a thin line of saliva hanging between them. They pause, lips inches away, breathing into each other, breaths molten hot. It’s almost dizzying how aroused they are. Impossibly dizzying.
“Yeah?” Arthur asks eventually, out of breath, pupils dilated. “What else?”
“Yeah,” Gwaine confirms, trailing a finger over his throat. “And then–” swoops down and latches on the vein there, sucking and licking softly until Arthur is gasping again.
“I’d mark you as mine. Tell you how amazing you are. Hold you here,” grabs his hips, “Kiss you here,” Arthur whimpers when Gwaine presses a closed mouth kiss at the hollow of his throat.
“I would have opened you up, nice and slow. Made sure you were so, so ready for me. I swear I would've been more gentle.”
“You were gentle. I'm not really a princess, you know”
“You'll always be a princess, to me.”
Arthur grins, feeling giddy in a way he hasn't ever before. He loves the warmth in his chest, knowing that Gwaine is not disappointed in him and he enjoyed it as much as Arthur did.
He wants to drown in it; take a swim in the summer lake, float on his back with the sun on his face. Now that he has a taste of it, he wants more.
He wants to satisfy Gwaine and be rewarded for it.
“What did–” Arthur clears his throat, trying to sound more nonchalant. Like his life and happiness doesn't depend on Gwaine's answers, “What did you want Sir Benjamin to do with his mouth?”
The name of the other man leaves a sour taste in Arthur’s mouth. He loathes to think about the other knight when, for once, he has the full glory of Gwaine all to himself.
It's not fair that this is the first, and probably the only, time that Arthur gets this . The heat of Gwaine's palm caressing his face. And Sir Benjamin gets to have this whenever he wishes. And he really shouldn't remind Gwaine of all the good times with Sir Benjamin at this time, but he can't help it. He wants one more chance to be good for the brunette.
“Who?”
“You know.” Arthur raises his eyebrows meaningfully. When Gwaine still doesn’t get it, Arthur can’t help but grunt, frustrated. “Sir Benjamin.”
Gwaine gives him a blank look.
“Stop trying to–” Pretend you don’t know. Pretend like he’s not better than me. Make me feel better. Arthur cuts himself off, ashamed of his thoughts. “Sir Benjamin,” he reminds Gwaine instead. Painfully slowly. He doesn’t know why he’s saying all this. He must hate himself. “The knight?”
“ Ohhh ,” Gwaine says, snapping his fingers. “That guy! What about him?”
“His mouth,” Arthur repeats, feeling oddly like his words are running away from him. “What did you want him to do with his mouth?”
Gwaine laughs. “Is this a kink of yours?”
When Arthur doesn’t laugh back, Gwaine pauses, looking him in the eyes before smoothing a finger gently over Arthur’s shoulder.
“Well,” Gwaine says quietly, thinking intensely to give Arthur a proper answer. “Not anything really.” Why would he? He has Arthur right here in his arms. He can barely think about other men right now, much less whatever Sir Benjamin’s mouth does. His brain is full of Arthur, full of the way his breath hitches and how he whines, pressed into the bed, hair fanning around him not unlike a golden halo. To think this is the very same Arthur who goes toe to toe with him during training everyday, going as far as to beat him in spars even on his best of days, who speaks and regards commoners and nobles equally, who thinks of everyone and gives fair consideration to the craziest of thoughts, holding unwavering faith in the good of his people. A king Gwaine would follow to the ends of the earth.
That same Arthur looking at him like that .
How could Gwaine ever think of anybody else?
“Really?” Arthur asks flatly, like he doesn’t believe him. He grinds down a little on Gwaine’s lap, like it's a punishment for lying to him. As if it’ll get Gwaine to reveal the truth. Does he even know how he drives Gwaine mad? “Even though he’s more experienced? Taller? Easier to be with? Isn’t–” me , Arthur almost says and Gwaine swoops in to cut him off before he can.
“You,” Gwaine growls, so incredibly turned on and frustrated. “He. Isn’t. You. Forget his mouth or whatever else you’re thinking about him. He isn’t you. He doesn’t smile like you, doesn’t laugh like you, doesn’t even do half the things you do the way you would. If you even think for a second I would want anyone other than you, you’re dead wrong.”
Gwaine bites Arthur’s skin and Arthur shudders, trembling.
“You like that?” Gwaine continues, hoping to milk everything he can out of this one night he has with Arthur. Arthur who wants to spend the rest of the night talking about some other knight Gwaine can barely remember the name of. Arthur who sits here, all pretty and ready and fuck .
Before Gwaine can pounce once more, Arthur shoves him backwards onto the bed, leaning back and breathing heavily, chest rising and falling as he sits on Gwaine’s thighs. Gwaine swears he can feel the air in his lungs escape him at the sight. So fucking pretty.
“Yeah,” Arthur murmurs, voice hoarse. “Is that what Sir Benjamin liked too? Have you guys ever done this?”
And Arthur bends down, down, down, so low Gwaine loses his mind, sucking hickey’s into the groove of his skin.
“Just you,” Gwaine groans, fisting Arthur’s hair. “Only you.”
Arthur preens a little, drunk off power. Only him . “You don’t wish it was him here then? Pressed up against you with nobody around, naked with nothing but sweat and come to cover us up, feeling the way you felt inside me even until now, wanting nothing more than to have you in any capacity I can have you? You sure?”
“Only you,” Gwaine repeats, moaning at the very thought, almost unable to speak.
“Yeah?” Arthur asks, getting up and roughly moving Gwaine to the edge of the bed. Gwaine lets go of him, flushed and panting. “Only me right? Only me kneeling in front of you–” Arthur narrates as he moves towards the floor. “–ready to take you?”
“Yes Princess. How many times do I have to repeat it? Only you! Mother of–” Gwaine curses, “You’re going to ruin having anyone else for me ever again.”
Arthur grins, lopsided and razor sharp, looking so kingly Gwaine can barely breathe.
King's don't kneel unless to greet death. Uther hadn't done so until he was dragged down by his enemies on all sides. Gwaine doesn't even remember his own father kneeling to anyone other than the King.
Still, Arthur goes down on his knees, without hesitation, regal and royal and breathtaking and looks up at Gwaine with those blue eyes face inches away from Gwaine's already leaking cock.
Gwaine watches him wet those plush lips.
“How shall I serve you, Sir Gwaine?” He bats his lashes, hoping he doesn’t stutter and tremble the way his heart is currently doing, “Would you rather I blow you–” He wets his lips again, seizing up the size of Gwaine. “–or suck you off?”
Arthur’s mouth falls open, tongue laying flat and poking out. Gwaine commends himself for not tugging his hair back and pushing in to feel the depth of his throat. He wonders if Arthur has done this part of it before.
When the words sink in, he’s beyond confused. He looks down at Arthur who is eyeing him eagerly, lightly bouncing on his knees. Unsurprising that Arthur would be as dedicated in this as he is with everything else. It’s what made Gwaine devote himself to the King in the first place.
“Blow me, my Lord.” Gwaine leans his head back and closes his eyes, his cock already leaking with the thought of what’s to come.
He jerks back when cold air hits him, opens his eyes to see that Arthur–
Arthur is eyeing him hungrily and blowing air on his still hard cock.
What is going on–
He can’t help but laugh when he realizes. Arthur is blowing him. Literally. Like blowing air on his dick.
“What?”
Arthur doesn’t join in on Gwaine wheezing like it’s the circus.
Except. Except. Gwaine’s falling on his knees as well, clutching his ribs as he goes. This has to be the cutest thing that’s happened to Gwaine but his dick is still convinced that it’s a mating call.
“What’s– Why are you laughing?” His voice goes higher and higher. Haughtier. It’s the prat royal tone he takes when he’s hurt but doesn’t want to confess that he has feelings.
Even knowing that Arthur is offended, Gwaine can’t help himself. It’s all so, so adorable.
He grabs Arthur by the back of his neck and drags him closer to give him the sloppiest kiss he can on his nose.
“Man, I fucking love you,” he chuckles against Arthur’s jaw.
Arthur has his lips occupied before Gwaine can make any excuses for the slip up. Their kiss doesn’t last. Doesn’t start to qualify as a kiss in the first place with how big Arthur is smiling through it.
“You love me ?”
The blush so evident on his high cheeks make him seem more youthful. More boy than anything Gwaine has seen in him in a while.
“You love me?” Gwaine melts at the way Arthur asks again, biting his bottom lip to stop himself from smiling so hard.
Gwaine throws himself on Arthur, making them fall on the hard ground with Arthur caged between his arms.
It’s just. Gwaine’s heart feels so full. Like he’s carrying an overflowing bucket of water to a starving village. It’s what Arthur does, he supposes. He naturally has that effect on most people.
Gwaine sweeps down to kiss Arthur, pushing his tongue in and biting whatever skin he gets a hold of.
Arthur, in turn, can’t catch his breath. Not knowing where Gwaine’s hands and mouth are going to trail down next. But he’s never felt more full of life, either.
It dawns on him that he hasn’t said those words back and he panics. He wants Gwaine to feel what he does. To have everything he’s been through in life be worth it. Just to be alive in this moment.
“I love–” Gwaine smacks against his teeth, “yo–” bites his bottom lip and pulls, “ou–” invites himself into Arthur’s mouth, “does this–” sucking on his tongue, “mean you–” breathing him in, “don’t want to–” licks his lips sloppily, erasing the sting of the bite, “kiss anyone else–” a chaste one on the upper edge of his lips, “anymore?”
“On my life, Arthur.” Gwaine kisses him again and bites his bottom lip, making Arthur moan. “I want nothing to do with anyone else anymore. It’s just you. I swear my life and heart to you. In service and in love.”
Arthur’s breathless again, for a whole different reason. He doesn’t understand, doesn’t think he ever will, why Gwaine would ever want him. And with this much devotion.
He knows he’s never done anything to deserve it. Never done anything to deserve his fealty in the first place.
Arthur’s a million things he shouldn’t be and a billion more things he’ll never be.
He has to be so much more than just barely enough but he can’t even do that. All he’s ever wanted was to be a good son, a good brother, a good friend, a good king , but inescapably, he’s doomed himself to always stupidly messing up. It’s how he knows he’s never going to be enough.
It’s also how he knows it’s only a matter of time that the people he loves either dies or realizes he’s not worth it.
He’s not sure he can do this–not sure if he can be a good lover, not with his mounting responsibilities and especially not when he’s not good at anything else either, and he knows he’s not alone in his efforts, knows he has people behind him, but he’s so entirely undeserving of it all it’s only a matter of time before everyone realizes it.
All he can do is desperately bide time and do his best to be enough for them but Gwaine is looking at him like–like–he’s already enough, like he’s more than enough, deep and confident in his sincerity, and even though Arthur knows he isn’t, knows it the way he trains every day until his hands shake, knows it the way he pours over line after line in every new law he puts out, knows it the way he closes his eyes and remembers his father’s voice in his ear telling him he isn’t, it just doesn’t matter.
Maybe he’s not enough but by god, Arthur will do whatever he can to be enough. He’ll do whatever is needed of him to be deserving of this loyalty and love.
He’ll keep going and trying until he is good enough, keep pushing until he’s even the slightest bit worthy just so that he can keep this for however long he can.
Every emotion feels raw and rolled out on his face. Gwaine seems to see all of it.
“You are so, so perfect,” Gwaine utters reverently. “Even your flaws are perfect. Everyone’s so fucking in love with you, Princess. I’m so fucking in love with you. We’re never going anywhere. You’re unreal.”
“I’m guessing I wasn’t doing it right?” Arthur grunts, rising to his knees again, embarrassed.
“Not at all.” Gwaine grins down at him. “Not that I mind. Just means I get to show you how. Lucky me. Here, drop your jaw.” He pulls at Arthur’s bottom lip.
“Loosen your jaw,” Gwaine coaxes. Arthur relaxes at his words, doing his best to follow what he says. “Yeah, just like that.”
“Okay now push your tongue out a litt– good boy.”
He steps forward and places his cock on Arthur’s tongue, rubbing the tip in the wetness.
“Close your lips” he pushes in more fully, “and– OHHH try– try to keep your teeth awa–”
“Fuck,” Gwaine chokes, grabbing onto the crown of Arthur’s hair without thinking, tugging him backwards a little. Arthur goes without a fight. Instead, like second nature, Gwaine pulls Arthur’s head, leading the blonde to move up and down just by how Gwaine tugs on his hair.
Finally, Gwaine pulls him away until just the head is in his mouth, “You can spend more time there. Use your tongue to AHH–” he moans as Arthur unexpectedly twirls his tongue at the slit, “Fuck, Arthur. Just like that.”
Arthur does it again. And again. Pleased to find things that make Gwaine moan like that.
“Just like that. Loosen your jaw again. Don’t forget Princess.”
Arthur does just that and Gwaine thrusts deeper into Arthur’s mouth without thinking. Arthur inhales sharply, gagging a little, visibly inexperienced with it and it takes everything in Gwaine not to go harder and faster, desperate to chase his own release.
“Sorry. You okay, Princess?”
Arthur whines, taking him in deeper and it’s all the permission Gwaine needs to continue thrusting, albeit slower and more controlled. It’s so much more difficult than it should be, especially with Arthur kneeling at his feet desperate to please him, one of the hottest things Gwaine has ever seen, and it has Gwaine nearly vibrating out his skin trying to control the pace.
“That’s so good, princess. You’re so good. This is– aghhh…”
“I’m close. Fuck. Fuck.”, he pulls Arthur by the hair again, trying to get him off before he comes. He can’t come in Arthur’s mouth. He shouldn’t. Arthur is too valuable. But the man refuses to budge, “I’m close. Arthur…!”
He pulls at his hair again, only for the King to close his mouth tighter around Gwaine and suck . His arms come up, holding Gwaine still, unable to pull away.
Gwaine comes despite his best efforts to get Arthur to let go. Arthur really shouldn’t, not for his first time, and certainly not Gwaine of all people’s come, but the pretty thing takes it in greedily anyways, doing his best to swallow until he can’t.
Arthur finally pulls off just as Gwaine finishes in a breathy daze. Arthur’s coughing and hacking, spitting so much of it out, unable to swallow. It’s all over his jaw, dribbling down, and it really shouldn’t be as hot as it is.
He sinks down next to Arthur and kisses him so hard he loses all thought. He can taste himself on Arthur’s lips and all he knows is that he isn’t going anywhere, never will.
They break apart only to breathe, so close Gwaine thinks he can count every single fleck in the blues of Arthur’s eyes.
“Was that okay?” Arthur asks, nervously. Vulnerably. His voice is a wreck, tears in his eyes, hair pulled up this way and that way, come– Gwaine all over him. “I know I messed up at the end.”
“It was perfect,” he chuckles, pressing another kiss into Arthur’s hair, “And don’t worry, Princess. We have the rest of our lives to practice.”
He means it with every fiber of his being.