An Incompetent Student Part 2
Gwaine lay, naked, on his bed, with Merlin at his side, and tried desperately to gather his scattered thoughts to deliver the next lesson. Merlin’s highly distracting commentary was making his task very difficult.
“I was thinking about what you said last time,” Merlin was saying, “and it struck me that pleasuring a woman was not so very different from pleasuring a man. After all,” he said, and the way that he pitched his voice, deep and seductive, the way his eyes raked Gwaine’s body appreciatively, the way his fingers were massaging Gwaine’s nipples, the way he kept pressing his mouth and nose to Gwaine’s abdomen, the way Merlin that was doing all these things ensured that Gwaine’s prick was standing up and paying attention far better than his brain could, “after all, a man likes to be appreciated, too.”
“Merlin?”
Merlin paused in his ministrations, eyebrows raised in question.
“Shut up,” said Gwaine.
“Oh. Sorry.” Merlin didn’t look very regretful. More smug, actually. Smug and a bit horny. The bastard.
“Merlin,” Gwaine tried again. “I’m meant to be teaching you how to pleasure a woman here, so please stop being such a tease for a moment, and let me do what I promised.”
“All right. Sorry.”
“And then, if you’re a good learner, I’ll let you fuck me,” said Gwaine. A bit of shameless opportunism won’t hurt, he mused.
Gwaine raised himself up onto one elbow and looked down at the vision before him. Merlin’s chin was flushed and chapped, his pupils large and black, his high cheekbones highlighted by a faint blush. Gwaine ran a firm hand down Merlin’s tautly muscled torso towards his large, tumescent prick. Really, if that huge prick didn’t find itself firmly buried in Gwaine’s arse at some point this evening, he would consider this enterprise to be a complete failure.
Bypassing this tempting prospect for now, his hand whispered down towards Merlin’s legs, which he parted gently, following his hand with his head, and planting wet kisses along Merlin’s inner thigh. Merlin, ever the rapid learner, let his legs fall apart, and groaned.
“The next thing you need to know,” said Gwaine, knowing that his breath would tickle the black hairs which lined Merlin’s thighs, “is that if you work her up enough before you fuck her, it’ll only take a few strokes for her to reach her completion.”
Merlin’s breath was coming fast as Gwaine nuzzled his perineum and balls, and snaked his tongue into the crevice that lay beneath them.
“There’s a secret nub, hidden in her folds, in front of her cunt,” Gwaine went on, “which longs for you to lick it, gently at first, and then more assertively.” To illustrate this, Gwaine tongued the length of Merlin’s prick and then gently took the swollen, purple tip into his mouth.
“Nnnnnggggguugh!” breathed Merlin. “That’s good, oh, gods Gwaine,” Gwaine suckled at Merlin’s cock for a few minutes, relishing the sounds this elicited from Merlin’s mouth, and then stopped, regretfully. It wouldn’t do for Merlin to finish before his magnificent member had had an opportunity to fill Gwaine’s arse.
“You’ll have to prepare her thoroughly, Merlin,” croaked Gwaine, his voice heavy with lust, “with your fingers and your lips, before you go in with that huge fucking cock of yours.”
Merlin nodded, his hand reaching to touch said cock, to relieve it of its pesty tumescence. Gwaine batted it away.
“Now now,” he chided, “it wouldn’t do to chase your pleasure before letting the lady have hers, would it Merlin?”
“No…,” moaned Merlin, although he didn’t sound totally sincere at that point; his legs were twitching and pre-ejaculate leaked from the swollen tip of his glorious prick.
“You have to tease her,” he said, “rub her folds, gently, not too hard at first, and make sure they are slick and moist from her love for you and from your tongue. Practice on me now,” said Gwaine, grinning shamelessly. He gave Merlin’s nipple a playful tweak; Merlin squeaked.
Gwaine reached for a jar of ointment and lathered Merlin’s fingers with it, and his own. And then, lying back, lifting his knees and reaching down, he pressed first one and then two oily fingers into his dusky pink hole, beckoning Merlin to follow suit, so that soon Gwaine was bucking and groaning with two of his own fingers and three of Merlin’s stretching him open.
“Encourage her to join in,” said Gwaine. “If she doesn’t know how to pleasure herself, you haven’t got a chance of doing it for her. Tell her she’s beautiful, that you love her like this, so wanton, so relaxed.”
Merlin looked too far gone to be paying attention, but he must have been listening, because soon he was whispering into Gwaine’s ear as he fucked Gwaine open with his fingers.
“So fucking gorgeous, Gwaine,” moaned Merlin, “Your arse, fuck, when I feel you straining under and around my fingers, I want to get in, to join with you.”
“You’ll know when she’s ready,” Gwaine panted, and fuck, he was ready, because oh oh oh Merlin was touching him just *there*, inside, and he couldn’t get enough, “oh! she’ll either tell you, or ah! you’ll see her start to buck and squirm, and if she knows anything about ah! ah! ah! … about herself, you’ll see the rhythm of her buttocks and legs clenching, feel her clench around your fingers… or else she’ll just tell you to fu…u…u…ck her.”
“Gwaine?”
“For the love of all the gods, Merlin, just fucking well get in and fuck me!”
And then, oh glory, Merlin’s hand withdrew and Merlin’s slim hips pressed between Gwaine’s open thighs, Merlin gently placed a pillow under Gwaine’s hips, and when he rocked into him with his blunt-tipped, hot, probing cock, it was too much, so hot and so full, so hard and so fucking perfect. Gwaine could hardly breathe.
Merlin leaned forward and took Gwaine’s mouth in his, kissed him roughly, and inched into him so that Gwaine could feel Merlin everywhere, stretched over him, clinging onto him, filling his mouth and his arse, easing into him, claiming him, so slowly, too slowly. Gwaine encircled Merlin’s hips with his legs, drew him in further.
“More,” begged Gwaine, although it fucking hurt, it stung, but oh! Yes! There! “Faster, damnit Merlin,” and how had that happened? Because Gwaine had gone from instructing Merlin, from being in charge, to begging him hoarsely to fuck him harder, and Merlin was pounding into him with such force that he could feel his balls juddering with every thrust.
The very thought was enough for him to cry out as he spilled onto his taut abdomen, muscles clenching hard around Merlin’s enormous shaft, and finally Merlin thrust his own release into Gwaine in hard pulses, his face contorted with effort and slick with sweat.
The two men lay panting for a moment; but Merlin was heavy, hot and sticky, and Gwaine pushed him off. “Gnf,” said Merlin, limbs straggling limply across the bed.
“Fuck it Merlin,” said Gwaine. “You really haven’t got the hang of this at all. I think we’re going to need a lot more work.” And he reached dozily for a cloth to mop himself up while Merlin let out a throaty chuckle.
~#~
“Well, Merlin, how are your researches going?” enquired Arthur. It was a late, candle-lit supper of bread, cheese and wine, and Arthur was sharing it with his manservant, tired after an exhausting day. Arthur could have sworn that Merlin coloured a little before he replied. Gods, Merlin was such a *girl* sometimes.
“Well, sire, I have consulted a erm… widely-recognised expert in the field, and have some findings that I can share with you. Would you like a written report?”
“Heavens, no,” said Arthur. He shuddered. Just think what the Camelot grapevine would make of *that* if it ever went astray. “I think it best for you to give me a verbal debrief.”
“Very well sire. There is a lot of information to share. Would you like me to relate it to you all at once, or in short bursts?”
Arthur thought for a bit. It hadn’t crossed his mind that this would require more than a short conversation. Of course, this being about women-well, a woman anyway-it was bound to be more complicated than he had initially thought. In his admittedly limited experience of women, things did tend to get surprisingly complicated very quickly.
“Start now and I’ll tell you if I think we need to stop and start again another time,” said Arthur. That way he could always beg Merlin to stop if it looked like he was going off at a tangent. Merlin harrumphed, and really Arthur thought that actually it might be quite entertaining watching Merlin squirm, so he folded his arms and leant back in his chair.
“You may begin now,” said Arthur. No time like the present. Merlin swallowed.
“Erm. All right sire. Now, chasing a woman’s pleasure, sire, is like going on a hunt.”
“Really?” Arthur quirked an eyebrow.
“Indeed sire. It requires, at first, some preparation, although this becomes less important when the hunter is highly skilled. The hunt cannot be hurried, and the hunter must not be distracted too much by his own needs, or he will lose the quarry altogether and the hunt will not be successful. The hunter has to accept that he may not always be successful, and to allow himself to just enjoy the pleasure of the hunt.”
“I know how to HUNT, thank you Merlin. Do you have any other insights for me? Perhaps you would like to teach me how to use a sword, or how to joust.”
“Sorry sire.”
“Try to avoid the metaphors, Merlin, you’re not really bright enough to understand what you are saying.”
“Sorry sire. I think it best if I report further on another occasion, when I have had time to do some more research.”
“See if Geoffrey’s library, or wherever it is you are finding this rubbish, has something with some more specific instructions rather than these mealy-mouthed references to hunting and chasing,” said Arthur, nodding Merlin’s dismissal, and ignoring the exasperated sigh that his insolent manservant let out on his way out of the door.
~#~
“Well, Merlin, have you tried your new found skills out on your lady friend yet?” Gwaine asked.
“Not exactly,” said Merlin. “I am not sure that I’m ready,” Gwaine nodded. “Well, I think you’re right,” he said. Actually, this was a complete lie; if there was one thing that Gwaine was sure of, it was that Merlin was completely ready and able to make a maiden, however shy, scream with bliss; if Merlin acted with his wench the way he had with Gwaine on the previous occasion, she would never let him leave her bedchambers.
Gwaine had been hard pressed; it was only the fact that he could rely on the accommodating and lovely Kitty, who served behind the bar of the Rising Sun, for a tumble, that meant he had felt able to let Merlin out of his lodgings. He wondered if Arthur knew what treasure lurked, hidden, between his manservant‘s legs. More fool Arthur if not, he thought.
At any rate, some additional instruction could hardly hurt.
“The main problem seeming to be,” Merlin continued, swirling his beer round and gazing intently into it, “that I have not actually yet had an opportunity. I tried to talk to Ar… her… and he… erm… she was not really very erm. Receptive. Seemed to think I needed to find out more.”
“Why? Is this maiden very coy?” A sudden thought came to Gwaine. “Or is she married? Even if so, there is usually a way round these things if she is willing.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” blurted Merlin, his face falling.
Gwaine was puzzled. In his experience it was not all that complicated getting a willing maiden into bed, unless there was a significant difference in status.
“Is she high born then?” Gwaine guessed, and then suddenly a horrifying idea occurred to him, “NO! not the Queen, Merlin? That would be treason! Better to keep it in your trousers, old friend.”
“I am NOT intending to cuckold the King,” Merlin shouted. The tavern chose that moment to fall silent and several faces swivelled in their direction. Gwaine sighed and shushed his friend. He held up his hands.
“All right,” he said. “I won’t enquire any further.” He grinned evilly. “Now, about that additional instruction.”
“Yes,” said Merlin. “I think I need to practice with an actual woman. That way I’ll erm. Be able to tell… I mean do… it properly.”
Gwaine nodded, smiling. “I was hoping you would say that,” he said. “I think we can work something out.”
~#~
Kitty was a good girl, she really was, and it wasn’t her fault that she really couldn’t resist Gwaine; they had an “arrangement,” and he always looked after her nicely, so that made it all right.
She thought that Gwaine’s friend sounded interesting. So when a scruffily-dressed *servant* came into the bedchamber she was slightly disappointed. He had nice eyes and his face was pretty, but his ears were a bit funny-looking. She giggled at the scared expression on his face.
“Is this him? He don’t look like much, Gwaine,” she said. Gwaine gave her one of his looks, the ones that made her feel all wobbly-kneed. He was so kind and so handsome, she really couldn’t refuse him anything.
“Kitty,” he said, in his deep, seductive voice, his eyes raking her appreciatively and damn him he was making her underclothes damp just by the way he was talking, “Kitty, trust me. This boy has magic in his bones, especially the bone in the fork of his legs, if you get my meaning! Plus, he has youth on his side. It’ll be a long night, I’ll warrant.” Gwaine was so saucy. Kitty giggled again, and wriggled up onto the bed, her petticoats fanning out under her legs.
“You say the funniest things, Gwaine,” she said, making her voice as pretty as she could, but ending in a squeak, because Gwaine thrust her further up onto the bed and started to unlace her bodice. “Gwaine!” she giggled, as he beckoned his friend across. The funny-looking boy just stood there by the bed, looking like a startled deer.
Gwaine hurdled her, athletically, and settled on the bed next to her. He groaned happily when he finally freed one of her breasts, cupping it with his gnarly hands. She loved it when he groaned like that. It sounded like he wanted her so badly he could die.
“Oh, Kitty,” he whispered, his breath cooling the skin on her breasts, “such a good girl, such magnificent breasts!”
She smiled at him. “Gwaine!” she chided, slapping his hand away out of habit, but not stopping it from snaking back again. “You’re so naughty!”
His hands were hot and sweaty; the cold night air had made her nipples stand up. She knew her breast was pert and pretty, and the boy, who was now standing by the bed next to her, couldn’t keep his eyes off it. He looked sweet actually, in the candlelight, if you ignored those ears and the shabbiness of his garments.
“What’s your name, then, boy?” she said, gently, smiling at him “looks like we’re going to get well acquainted tonight, we might as well be on first name terms!”
“Merlin,” he whispered shyly, returning her smile with one that lit up his face and filled her with delight.
“Ain’t you got a lovely smile, Merlin,” she said, widening her own. “I’m Kitty. Here.”
She reached out a hand to his wrists, bringing his hands down to her, and laid them on her bare breasts. He gasped, eyes wondering, stroking her breasts with long, gentle fingers as Gwaine gradually withdrew, and Gwaine was right, his fingers felt like magic.
“So soft,” he said wonderingly, his voice kind and sweet, looking at her, stroking her gently with the palms of his hands. “Such a pretty face, such pretty hair, Kitty.”
Kitty’s long dark hair gathered around her neck and chest. He carefully brushed one tress from her face “Kitty, you are so beautiful.” And he leaned forward to kiss her on the lips, one hand still cupping her breast, before edging onto the bed, so that she was wedged in between the boy and Gwaine.
But it was the boy who was kissing her now; his lips were full and moist; they felt wonderful on hers. His tongue flicked into her mouth, probing her gently. He tasted of beer, and honey. She could feel her body responding to him now; she pressed both her hands into his messy black hair, and guided his head to her breasts, to her nipples. He moaned and swirled his tongue around them, first one and then the other before sucking them one at a time, into his mouth. She could feel his approving voice rumbling in her rib cage, his breath tickling her chest, and she gasped.
She exchanged a look with Gwaine who nodded and leaned in for a messy kiss while his friend played with her nipples.
“Oh yes, Kitty,” said Gwaine. “Merlin and I will take care of you tonight, don’t worry. But he’s not been with a woman before. He may need you to guide him. Can you do that for me Kitty?” He flashed her his most handsome smile, and his friend was looking up at him and smiling so sweetly she really didn’t need to think about it too hard.
Merlin lay next to her on one side, Gwaine on the other, and between them they parted her legs, reached into her petticoats, and removed her undergarments.
“Too many clothes, Kitty,” Gwaine chided.
“I could say the same of yours, and all, sirs,” she chuckled, palming his breeches so that he gasped.
Then she turned to the boy, whose face was all flushed, and smiled coyly at him. “And what have you been hiding in your breeches, then,” she said, her curiosity aroused by Gwaine’s earlier description. The boy blushed to the tips of his hair. Pleased with this reaction, she reached down with her hand and rubbed, gently, at the large bulge in his garments before unlacing them, expertly, grinning as his impressive cock sprang forth, its tip already gleaming. Merlin let out a hoarse cry, which she added to the list of noises she’d like to hear again from him.
“Cor!” she exclaimed. “You’re a big one ain’t you! Gwaine weren’t joking, was he!”
She’d like to impale herself on that long, thick pole, she thought, and slide up and down it until the boy spent inside her. But she was supposed to be giving instruction this evening, so that would have to wait until she had already taken her pleasure. Besides, she thought, watching the lost expression on his face, listening to his gasps, as she circled his girth with eager fingers, and rubbed him firmly between her palms, she wasn’t sure he’d last that long. She found herself already planning a repeat performance.
Gwaine stayed her hand.
“Whoa there, Kitty,” he said. “You’ll have the boy spending before you know it.”
“Fuck, I’m not going to last,” panted Merlin. “Gods, Kitty, your hands are so… nnngh,”
“Look, Gwaine, I know what I’m doing,” she said firmly. “The boy is on edge. Best to finish things off for him, and then he can concentrate on me. It’s all right, treasure!” she said in a sing-song voice. “Come and spend in me.”
Responding to an impulse, she turned away from Gwaine, straddling the boy’s knees, and bent, her free breasts dangling, to take the boy in her mouth. He let out a breathless moan, which caused a twist of pleasure in her gut. She sucked gently on the head of that huge cock, digging her hands into his breeches to find his tight balls, and massage them gently while she worked his cockhead with her tongue. She could see that Gwaine had freed his own prick from his breeches while he watched her suck his friend; she could the tip of his cock poking through the top of his fist with every stroke.
Merlin’s body stiffened and he massaged her scalp through her hair. He tried to lift her away, but she wanted to taste his spend. She took him down as deeply as could and he buried himself into her, crying out, pulsing thick liquid into her throat. She gulped down as much as she could as he fell back.
“Sweet thing,” she said, fondly, “You’ll be good for nothing for a bit. Why don’t you watch me, I’ll show you what I like. But first, I reckon we’ve all got too many clothes on. Come on, treasure!”
The three of them, chuckling, shucked off all their clothes. Kitty was in charge now, and she enjoyed ordering these men around. Lying back she lifted her knees. Gwaine lay beside her, gently rubbing his cock. She shooed the boy to the end of the bed. “Watch,” she instructed.
She watched the boy’s face, as her hands whispered down her naked body, caressing her curves, moving down the outside of her legs to her knees, and then slowly up between them; she teased herself first, feeling the soft skin at the top of her thighs, and then let her fingers burrow deep into her crack. She let out a sharp sigh as she felt how wet she was there, and moistened her fingers before drawing them out to part her folds and moisten her little nub.
“Right here, darling,” she said, softly, “right here, is where a woman’s pleasure lies. It is shy, and needs to be tempted out. Here, come and feel.”
The boy’s face was pink, intent, concentrating. His long, sensitive fingers gently probed into her waiting folds, and he gulped as he felt her moistness there.
“See how you make me wet for you, you sweet thing. Just get your fingers all slick, darling, then rub me here.” She gently moved his hand. He shifted to a more comfortable position, face serious, a little line appearing on his forehead. “Keep your fingers stiff for me, I’ll show you what feels good,” she panted. She used Merlin’s hand to paint circles around her nub, then drew one finger into her folds and rubbed herself with it.
“There, treasure, that’s the place,” she said, heart hammering. She could already feel her pleasure building, she was not going to take long.
“Kitty,” whispered the boy. “You feel so hot, so ready.” And he took over from her; his fingers were clumsy at first, but she guided him to rub, circle and tease her, gently at first and then more firmly. She closed her eyes and started to rotate her hips, moving them up and down rhythmically to meet his touch. And then she felt a change in the angle, felt his head moved down, down between her thighs, felt his mouth hot and wet against her slippery skin. When his long tongue joined his elegant fingers, she arched up to meet him, her breath coming in great gulps. With her hands she directed his fingers inside her, moving them rhythmically in and out in time with her slowly rocking thighs, with Merlin’s tongue circling her nub. Her pleasure started to build and she buried her hands in his hair.
“Merlin,” she gasped, “Your tongue, your tongue, so…”
At her side she could feel Gwaine move closer so that his sweat-slick skin was aligned, furnace-like, along her torso; his hips rutted into hers. “Kitty,” he was moaning, his voice hoarse. And she was so close, so close. She felt an intense wave of pleasure deep inside, starting from Merlin’s fingers and tongue, fanning out through her taut muscles, her abdomen, her bum, her legs as Merlin’s clever tongue lapped her greedily. She keened, and let out a high-pitched wail as it crashed over her and she felt a long moment of otherworldliness for three, four heart beats before coming down gently.
As she looked down she noticed that Gwaine had spent over her, and lay, relaxed, at her side. Her stomach was awash with his spend. She felt the cold air rush in behind Merlin as he withdrew from between her legs and returned, a cloth in his hand, and a cheeky grin on his face, to clean her up. She eyed him speculatively. He was hard again, huge prick jutting out from dark curls, an open invitation. She smiled slyly.
"Well done Merlin, that wasn't too bad, for a beginner," she said. "But you're going to need a lot more practice."
~#~
Arthur pouted at his indolent manservant.
“Another night off, Merlin?” he drawled. “To conduct research on my behalf? I would have thought you should have concluded your studies by now.”
Merlin looked sheepish.
“Well, Sire, it just so happens that I do have some findings to share with you,” he began, shuffling his legs and, again, failing to meet Arthur’s eyes. The boy was such a prude.
“Merlin, have you ever performed a sexual act with another person?” he said bluntly. “Because you are acting like a blushing maiden. This subject is sensitive, yes, but we are both grown men. I would have thought that you could manage a conversation about it without having to rush off to your chambers to pleasure yourself.”
Merlin gulped. The boy looked mortified.
“As it happens, sire,” Merlin began, a mortified look on his face, his skin mottled and flushed, “it is my belief that the solution to the Queen’s problem lies in her being allowed to explore her own body and find her pleasure. Once she has found her own pleasure, she can then teach another how to bring it to her.”
“Merlin, are you really suggesting that I encourage the Queen to…”
“Masturbate, sire. Yes.”
Arthur rubbed his eyes. He had no idea that it was possible for women to perform such an act. Perhaps therein lay the problem, he thought, ruefully.
“So, Merlin,” Arthur drawled. “Did you spend the last week rubbing yourself off every night to come to this conclusion?”
“No! I mean yes! But not every night!” he said defensively. “Actually, I did have sex. Not just by myself. I have been doing some research. Of a practical nature. On your behalf, obviously, Arthur.”
Arthur grunted. So that was why he kept wanting more time off. He was doing “research.” Of a practical nature, with some wench, no doubt.
He scowled at the thought, and pushed the image that popped into his head, of Merlin’s long white body lying atop another, away. And the soft noises Merlin would be making as he reached completion. And the flush on his cheeks. And his musky scent. And his salty taste. And the warm feel of skin on skin, pulled tight across taut muscles.
He definitely did not imagine any of those things. And happy though he was for the boy, he really didn’t see why discussing the subject would cause Merlin to squirm and flail around like a pathetic girl with a crush.
Merlin, the idiot, now that he had started talking, didn’t seem able to stop himself.
“And as I said I have some additional findings to share with you. And I have picked up some practical tips. Sire. I have been enjoying some tuition.” Arthur frowned. Merlin, looking up, gulped and thankfully stopped talking. “Sire?”
“Merlin, you dim-wit,” Arthur said, circling round his manservant with a sad expression on his face. “I thought I had made your mission clear. I do not need you to abandon your duties in order to hone your limited skills with some bawd you have picked up in the lower town, probably catching some vile disease in the process.”
Merlin’s face was the picture of misery. “Yes, Sire, I mean no, Sire,” he said, dejectedly.
Arthur sighed. He really didn’t want his manservant to be miserable, but it was the very limit, expecting him to forego his evenings with Merlin-his evenings being waited on by Merlin, he amended-so that the boy could spend said evenings fucking his way round Camelot. Imagine if he managed to sire a string of incompetent, insolent, insubordinate bastards. No, that really would not do.
“I absolutely forbid any further practical so-called *research* in the lower town,” said Arthur.
Merlin pouted. “But sire,” he said petulantly, “you said, you wanted me to find out how to pleasure a woman, and you said, you wanted me to tell you how to do it, so how am I going to do that if I don’t talk to any women?”
He seemed to be warming to his topic. Arthur opened his mouth to stop the flow of words, but Merlin just carried on blithely.
“I have been diligent in my researches,” he said, a pink spot appearing on his cheek, “and I think quite successful, for I have learned how to pleasure a woman with my fingers, and with my tongue, and with my cock, and with another man pinned to my cock, and I was just going to learn how to do it with another man under me, which would have completed my studies, and now you want me to stop?”
Arthur pressed his eyes shut against the visions which this speech presented him with. He felt his prick stirring, and was powerless to prevent it. Merlin carried on, heedlessly.
“I have learned now, what it feels like to have her reach her pleasure, so that she tightens around my fingers, and how to press into her with my cock at just the right moment, so that it heightens the sensation for her.” The boy, damn him to all the hells, strode up to Arthur and started to emphasise his exposition with a long finger, poked towards Arthur’s face. Arthur batted it away but Merlin still carried on.
“I have learned how to wet my fingers with her juices, how to thrust into her in time with her own rhythm, and now I want to complete my studies so that I can relate them to you in their entirety.” Merlin leaned forward, his face was inches from Arthur’s. “Sire.”
“Damn it Merlin, will you SHUT UP!” roared Arthur. He was painfully aroused by now. And his idiot manservant was smirking and looking down the large bulge in the royal breeches.
“I have learned,” Merlin carried on, disobediently, leaning forward to whisper, so that his breath was warm as it ghosted into Arthur’s ear, and the tingling sensation made Arthur judder, “I have learned how to make a man scream in ecstasy as he is pleasured by two people at once; speared upon another man beneath, his woman writhing atop him.”
Arthur gulped, as Merlin drew in even closer, nibbling on the royal ear, one skinny arm encircling the royal shoulders, bony crotch pressed to one royal hip, and one elegant hand palming the royal breeches. Ye gods, was that hot bulge in Merlin’s garments really his prick? How had he managed to keep that hidden for so long, it was huge. No wonder he always wore ill-fitting clothes.
“I have been told,” Merlin breathed, “that I have great talent.” And he rolled his hip so that a long, gods, huge, fat prick nudged insistently at Arthur’s hip.
“I very much doubt that,” Arthur replied, as he turned, aroused beyond measure, and drew Merlin to him.
“Let me show you,” Merlin continued. “Let me show you what I can do. And then you can. You know. Show.” He gulped. “The Queen.”
Arthur had lain with a man before, of course. And as the King, he was allowed to do what he wanted with his servants. He would never *take advantage* of a servant in such a way. But this really didn’t look like that sort of a situation. In fact, it was not clear who was taking advantage of whom. Best just to go with it, he thought, not very coherently.
“All right,” he said, pressing his own not inconsiderable royal appendage into Merlin’s, and rubbing them together, hot and hard, so the boy gasped. “I’ll be interested to find something that you’re actually good at, for once.” And gods, it felt good, so good, to rut against Merlin like that.
“Prat,” gulped Merlin, his face red.
“Idiot,” whispered Arthur, wondering if he was going to spend before he had a chance to verify Merlin’s boastful claims. He pressed his lips to Merlin’s for a kiss.
Kissing Merlin was not entirely like kissing a girl. Merlin was stubbly, had long octopus-like limbs and a prehensile tongue. He was hard, lithe, scratchy and combative; his tongue was aggressive and insistent; his hands were determined and skilful.
Arthur felt as hard as rock.
Merlin kept breaking off the kiss to nip, to lick, to suck, and provide a filthy, muttered critique in a breathless, deep voice.
“Fuck, Arthur, you prick is so hard, you could drill holes with it, let me free it for you, gods it is heavy, I can’t wait to feel it inside my mouth. Arthur your tongue, it’s too soft, nggghh ooh that’s better,” *gasps*, “oh yes, Arthur, your tongue, in my ear, gods.”
This was very distracting. Arthur slapped Merlin’s pert bottom, playfully. “Shut up, Merlin,” he growled, manhandling his servant towards the royal bed and pressing him onto it, working quickly to free Merlin’s prick from his breeches. And gods, what a magnificent sight it was. Arthur was speechless. His guts lurched at the thought of that enormous knob buried in his arse, stroking and teasing Arthur’s innermost secrets from deep within him.
Merlin had already stripped Arthur of his own breeches and was gazing, awestruck, at the royal rod, which sprang forth winsomely from dark-blond curls. Arthur smirked.
“Like what you see?” he said teasingly. Of course Merlin did.
“Oh, yes,” breathed Merlin, and the tone of reverence in his voice as he pulled Arthur down onto him was only Arthur’s due as his King.
Arthur shucked off his shirt and roughly released Merlin from his tunic. Merlin’s body was bony and underfed compared to his, but somehow he managed to overturn Arthur onto his back, and to pin him down with bony hands, caressing Arthur’s nipples and chest hair with his mouth, Arthur’s prick with his hands, murmuring delighted nonsense about Arthur’s muscles, his warm skin, his pert fat prick, his golden hair all the while. Arthur couldn’t help wondering how this would help him with his Queen’s little problem, but decided to go with it for now. After all, he was only human. With gentle hands he guided Merlin’s mouth to his cock head.
“Shut up Merlin,” he croaked, “just don’t speak any more.” Then, “Gods!” For his obliging manservant had stopped speaking, and was enthusiastically slurping, inserting a perky tongue under Arthur’s foreskin and swirling it about, diving up and down Arthur’s cock with it, filling Arthur with a maddening sensation of hot tongue and cold air.
Merlin took Arthur in between those soft red lips; his thin hands wrapped themselves round the base of Arthur’s royal prick, and he sucked, then started to bob up and down in a slow, inexorable rhythm. Arthur’s hands scrabbled around on the bed for purchase and he arched his hips up towards Merlin’s face, moaning.
“Stop!” Arthur cried. He was going to… oh fuck it. “No, don’t stop!”
“Make your mind up,” said Merlin, infuriating grin on his face. But now what was that absurd boy doing? He was fumbling around among the clothes on the floor, looking for something, when by rights he should be finishing what he had started.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, frustrated, his own hand working to finish the job, “Come back here, damn you.”
Merlin, infuriatingly, returned to the bed, slapped his hand away and chided him. “Not yet, Arthur,” he said, as he smeared some sort of oil thickly onto his fingers and tremendously sized prick, and Arthur did *not* gulp at the thought of what Merlin was about to do with that thing, no he didn’t get noticeably harder either, most certainly not. “You asked me for lessons; well, the first one is patience.”
When Merlin gently breached Arthur with an inquisitive, slippery fingertip Arthur was *not* going to gasp or let out a strangled cry. Neither would he turn onto his hands and knees to improve the angle. Definitely not.Yet it did seem like Merlin was taking an inordinately long time, so then Arthur did turn over, and as he had so rightly predicted, the angle was, indeed, much improved. Merlin really was terrible at this; he would definitely require additional instruction.
“Get on with it Merlin,” he grumbled, ignoring the way that Merlin chuckled, and focusing instead on the minute hitches in Merlin’s breath, and the appreciative noises he made as his strong, lean fingers swirled around Arthur’s buttocks.
“Fuck, I love your fat, golden arse, Arthur,” murmured Merlin.
“I’m not FAT!”
Merlin, the idiot, was enjoying this just a little bit too much, and Arthur would have to have words with him about that, but not now, because right now Merlin’s fingers were buried deep inside Arthur’s clench, and working him open; they were angling themselves just *so*, touching a secret spot deep inside him, and the only sounds that Arthur could realistically produce were the sort of sounds that an animal would make, which was thoroughly undignified, for a King, and so he didn’t make any sounds. Well, not as such.
“Nggggh,” he didn’t say. And “uuuuurghhf.”
And then, finally, after about a year, and several times Arthur had to *beg* for this, which again was thoroughly undignified, and he would need to give Merlin some really expert tuition on this particular subject, but not right now, Arthur felt something huge and hot and blunt nuzzle at his opening, and he turned to see, frustrated by the angle, because actually it would be something to see wouldn’t it? The biggest prick in all Camelot, probably the whole of all Albion, gently sliding inside the King’s slicked-up canal; impossibly long, impossibly wide; vast like Arthur’s kingdom, like his love for Merlin, like his need for warmth. Merlin’s body lined up over his back, his hand snaked round Arthur’s hips, circling his cock, and Merlin’s voice whispered to him. And now he was taken; Merlin surrounding him-over, under and inside-his body, arms and legs and his impossible cock and his whispering voice.
“Arthur,” Merlin’s voice was saying, “I am yours always, body, soul and spirit.” And suddenly this wasn’t about sex any more, it wasn’t about tuition or teasing or relief or horseplay or bodily needs; this was about two men finally realising their need for each other.
“Merlin,” Arthur gasped in wonder, feeling his pleasure build deep in his gut, to a keening pitch, Merlin thrusting deep into him, rhythm faltering while he uttered his devotion.
“Merlin,” he breathed again as he spent, pulsing into Merlin’s waiting hand, and as his servant fucked into him, seeking his own release.
“Merlin,” he said fondly, embracing Merlin when he flopped, gangly-limbed and limp onto the bed beside him, his face streaked with sweat, his body marked with Arthur’s seed. They drowsed for an infinite moment, content in the knowledge that the world around them was slumbering.
“Merlin,” he said again, lifting his head and regarding his friend. Two pairs of blue eyes locked together in silent promise. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered what he had done to deserve such unguarded devotion, and resolved to live up to Merlin’s unspoken high expectations.
He was loath to ruin the moment, but felt he needed to clarify something. He sighed.
“Merlin, I do have to ask. How exactly does this help the Queen with her problem?”
Merlin shrugged. “I am not sure sire. But it definitely helped me with mine,” he said, an innocent expression on his face-inasmuch as it is possible to look innocent and debauched at the same time. If anyone could manage such a feat, it was Merlin. Arthur sighed again.
“You really are very bad at this,” Arthur said, regretfully. “I think you’re going to have to do a lot more research.”
“Very well, Sire,” Merlin said, grinning.
"No need to go to the lower town, I will see to your instruction from now on," said Arthur magnanimously. He wasn't sure how this would help the Queen, but by all the gods he didn't want Merlin catching anything nasty.
"Indeed, Sire," Merlin said, smiling, cheeks dimpling sweetly.
"We can have another lesson a little later on," Arthur went on. It really was very generous of him, the King, to give up his time, never let it be said that he failed to encourage his servants in developing life skills.
"Of course, Sire," Merlin said, yawning and burying himself in messy bedclothes.
The End