Winter Advent 2011 - Day 18
adventchallenge Day: 18 Title: Xmas Blows
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Mordred/highlight*Arthur*
Rated: not quite R Words: 3684
Warning/s: AU, slut-Morgause, occasional coarse language
Summary: Mordred hated Christmas, with good reason. Then he met his unusual neighbours.
Prompt supplied by babydracky: AU, Mordred has always hated Christmas. Mordred/Arthur or Mordred/Morgana
Mordred had a list of reasons to hate Christmas.
Morgause married her second husband, Gwaine, when Mordred was thirteen. Mordred liked Gwaine, and Gwaine liked Mordred. Unfortunately, as Mordred’s fifteenth birthday approached, he discovered his mother was having an affair with Gwaine’s destitute brother, Cenred.
Cenred and Mordred hated each other.
That wasn’t the worst part. Mordred overheard their plan for Christmas Eve shenanigans. Cenred intended to dress as Santa, pop down the main chimney, and they’d do it on the hearth in the living room - without removing any of the costume. As if that wasn’t disgusting enough, if they got caught (which they hoped they would) Morgause planned to tell Gwaine she thought it was him in the Santa suit. He was bound to file for divorce, and she would claim to be wrongly accused of adultery so their pre-nup guaranteed her 75% of Gwaine’s assets.
Bitch!
Mordred was sick of her manipulative, sluttish shit. Gwaine could be a dickhead, but only ever in a goofball fun kind of way. So Mordred snuck downstairs on Christmas Eve, broke the thermostat and blocked the chimney without his mother finding out. He huddled in a bundle of blankets in the attic so he could hear Cenred on the roof, and climb up after him and drop his mother’s bowling ball down the chimney and hopefully onto Cenred’s head. Then Mordred scampered downstairs to the master bedroom, knocked on the door to ask Gwaine to light the fire because his room was freezing. Leaving the window open all afternoon made that a fact. Morgause couldn’t say no without revealing her affair and had to hope the smoke warned Cenred off.
Smoky chimney led to discovery, divorce, and juvenile detention for Mordred until he turned eighteen. The system found him a flat and a job. His nineteenth birthday was three months away and he still had both - plus snail mail from Gwaine, which was nicely unexpected.
Not so nice were Mordred’s neighbours, Morgana and Arthur. They weren’t ‘bad’ people, just loud. Especially when they were arguing or having sex and they seemed to be constantly doing one or the other. Mordred had difficulty finding the correct key (he only had two) and then fitting it in the lock. It sounded like Merlin was next door again. Mordred often wrestled with his conscience about telling his neighbours they were cheating on each other with the same bloke but as he had yet to say ‘Hi’ to either of them, he kept Merlin's secret.
Arthur whistled Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side as he came down the hall with a bag of takeaway, Lebanese or Turkish by the aroma. Mordred hesitated, gaping like a fish between his open door and Arthur. Blow it. “Merlin's in there. With, Morgana, you know.”
“Brilliant.” Arthur beamed. Mordred heard Tom Jones singing ‘why, why, why, Delilah’ in the least rational corners of his brain and could imagine Arthur with a knife in his hand as Morgana stood there laughing. Arthur held out a hand as though to stop Mordred jumping off a bridge. “No, it’s not what you think. We’re all together.”
“Threesome?” Mordred asked. He thought that stuff only happened in pornos.
“Ah, no. There’s more to it than that.” Arthur looked at the food bags with his head cocked to one side. “Look, the pide’s getting cold and it sounds like they’re done saying hello. Another time maybe, you could come over and we’ll explain it to you. Not that you look the sheltered type,” Arthur added with a friendly smile. His blue eyes didn’t glance at the ‘Bitch’ tattoos some arsehole inked into Mordred’s wrist and neck before raping him while he was inside. “Few people have heard of polyamory.”
“I thought it was polygamy,” Mordred admitted.
“See, that’s another thing entirely. Nice to finally meet you Mordred, that’s right, isn’t it?”
Mordred nodded.
“You should speak up more. You have a lovely voice, matches your face.”
“How’d you know my-name?” Mordred asked before Arthur disappeared through his own door.
“Your parole officer, when you first moved in. They didn’t tell us why you were in detention. That’s just for sex offenders - and no, I’m not one of those either.” Arthur grinned boldly. Mordred smiled in return, although he didn’t find the comment funny. “Everyone has secrets and a past Mordred. If you didn’t deserve a second chance they wouldn’t have let you out.”
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
Thanks for the card and grocery market gift voucher. Fridge, cupboard and belly are all full for the first time since my arrest. Crowds aren’t my thing so I gave the footy tickets to the bloke next door. Arthur thinks he’s funny but he’s not. He’s alright, for a dickhead who thinks I’m redeemable. You’d like him. Not as much as you’d like Morgana though…
*~~~*
Mordred answered the knock on his door wearing t-shirt and undies. His parole officer wasn’t due until tomorrow and he couldn’t be buggered putting pants on for uninvited guests.
“Oh my, trey cute ensemble,” Morgana said with a merry smirk. “You are a tasty one.” Her green eyes travelled over Mordred like a tourist bus, stopping in unexpected places longer than necessary while whizzing by others of greater importance.
Mordred preferred the male physique but he could appreciate a fine female form when one wiggled into view, like a sculpture worked in humanity rather than bronze. He’d kicked a juvenile justice psychologist in the nuts for suggesting his sexuality was linked to Gwaine. ‘Your stepfather remains the only person you trust implicitly,’ that bit was true. But it wasn’t Mordred’s slutty mother that treated him like an inflatable doll after lights out, and if anything, Mordred believed that should make him straight. “I’m gay,” he told Morgana.
“I can still look.”
Mordred smiled.
“Our dishwasher’s broken, just in time for pre-enormous-party preparations. Mind if we borrow yours? We’ll provide dish powder as well as paying for the inconvenience.”
“No inconvenience, I don’t use it. I have one plate, one bowl, a mug, glass, knife, fork, and three spoons. The saucepan and frypan aren’t dishwasher safe.”
“Microwave meals and takeaway?” Morgana asked knowingly.
“As often as possible,” Mordred admitted.
“That’s it, we’re keeping you.” Morgana cocked an eyebrow and stroked Mordred’s cheek, causing him to wonder if ‘flirt’ was her natural mode of behaviour. “Is now convenient, for the dishwasher?”
Mordred nodded. “I’ll find some pants.”
“Shouldn’t bother,” Morgana quipped over her shoulder with a cheeky smile.
He bothered regardless and tried to find something to do so he wouldn’t look like a lazy bum when Morgana returned. Arthur came too, both wheeling large trunks covered in fabric that reminded Mordred of his mother’s thigh boots. Cringe!
“Too late,” Arthur said in mock disappointment as he spied Mordred’s jeans. Mordred didn’t realise he could blush down there and quickly turned his attention to Morgana’s open trunk.
“That’s a lot of di-ildos.”
“It’s not that kind of party,” Morgana explained as she began loading dildos and vibrators into Mordred’s dishwasher, “not quite.”
“You didn’t warn him? Way to freak the poor boy out, Morgana. We make a living hosting ‘adult Tupperware’ parties - we don’t do personal demonstrations.”
“Way to gross the poor boy out, Arthur,” Morgana muttered. Arthur winked. Mordred smiled shyly then tried to make a more mature impression so they’d stop calling him ‘boy’.
“What’s in that one?” He pointed to Arthur’s trunk.
“Want a look? None of these have been used, they’re display only,” Arthur assured him as he knelt to unfasten the clasps.
Mordred hesitated before kneeling beside Arthur with a grin.
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
I doubt it’s an appropriate gift, but Arthur said this model’s discontinued and they can’t display what customers can’t order. Hope you get some use out of it, I sure won’t.
Morgana invited me to Christmas lunch. I said no. She was pretty pissed until Arthur said I’m entitled to spend my first Christmas on my own on my own. He’s not a complete dickhead after all. Morgana squeezed the breath out of me and said I HAD to see in the New Year with them, so that’s where I’ll be December 31. I haven’t met Merlin yet. His work keeps him away from home more often than not and it’s putting strain on their triangular relationship. There used to be a fourth, a woman named Gwen, who decided she preferred monogamy and married Arthur and Merlin's BFF. Have you met a Pi before? They believe in equal, deeply emotional relationships with multiple partners - all for one and one for all. Sex doesn’t even have to be part of it! I think that’s how Arthur explained it.
Thanks for setting up this flat - Duke told me at my last probationary interview EVER! - so please don’t buy me anything for birthday/Christmas this year. You’ve accidentally given me two terrific friends…
*~~~*
“So how come you don’t do Christmas, Mordred?” Arthur asked. He sat on the floor with his back against the couch. Morgana lay on the couch with her fingers running through Arthur’s brassy hair. He’d close his blue eyes occasionally and just enjoy the sensation. Mordred thought he was the most gorgeous Labrador…
Gwen’s husband-Lancelot?-nudged Mordred’s arm gently and handed him a flute of Champagne. “You’re staring again,” he whispered with a friendly smile.
“Oh, um, what? Christmas blows massive, greasy chunks.”
“Share!” the room chorused.
“No-o!” Mordred sang back. His response was met with warm chuckles and friendly smiles rather than derision.
Arthur sat forward. “If your reason for thinking Christmas blows beats mine I’ll…think of some fiendish prize when I’m sober.”
“He’ll kiss you at midnight!” Morgana declared with bright eyes, swinging around into a seated position with a leg either side of Arthur and her elbows on his shoulders.
Arthur shrugged her off. “Leave the boy alone.”
“I feature in your reason, I get a say in Mordred’s prize.”
“No you don’t!” Everyone shouted her down as one.
“Anywho,” Arthur said over their friends. “Morgana and I, getting busy in a guest room on Christmas Day. My dad catches us.”
“What are you doing?!” Morgana bellows. “SHE’S YOUR SISTER!” Gwen, Lancelot and Arthur join in at the punch line.
“What?” Mordred asks, disgusted.
“That’s what we said, only with more panic and revulsion. As we’d banging on and off for…?” Arthur tilted his head back enquiringly.
“Nineteen months, you never remember. I’m so insulted.”
“I demanded to know what made him think that.”
“Before he bothered getting off me, mind you. Uther and my mother had an affair for several years. We confronted the philanderers in front of all the gathered guests and the man I thought was my father demanded DNA tests.”
“So your Uther isn’t Morgana’s father?” Mordred asked with relief.
“Yeah, he is.” Arthur sipped his Champagne. “He isn’t mine.”
Lancelot thumped Mordred’s back because he’d snorted Champagne through his nose and choked while trying not to laugh. Gwen ran off in search of tissues so Mordred could blow his nose.
“Your turn,” Arthur said drily.
“Top up all the drinks, then.” Everyone was leaning forward in silent rapture before Mordred was halfway through his ‘why I hate Christmas’ recital. Morgana wiped tears from her eye more than once. “Then came the Christmas that made me your neighbour.” No-one suggested he stop, so he continued.
Morgana leapt from the couch and crushed Mordred in her arms when he was done. “Oh baby!” she said with deeper affection than he’d ever received from his mother. “And we missed your birthday!” Morgana held Mordred’s face in both hands and smothered cheeks and forehead with kisses.
“Help!” He yelped. Lancelot, Gwen and Arthur laughed, but eventually freed him.
Arthur leaned in close and murmured “You win.” He chinked their glasses together. Mordred half-wished Arthur would be kissing him at midnight.
Mordred made it to the countdown without passing out, vomiting or pissing himself. Everyone kissed everyone for different durations as the year turned over. He made sure not to cling to Arthur or try for more than the comfortable kiss on the cheek given to Lancelot.
“Thanks for coming,” Arthur murmured.
“How’d you know?” Mordred chortled giddily at his own innuendo. Arthur barked out a short, sharp laugh. Then he moved the party hat slipping over Mordred’s right eye.
“You better get home soon.”
“Morgana offered me the couch.” Mordred stumbled over the statement. Why was Arthur kicking him out?
“Probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not available,” Arthur reminded him in a gentle hush and moved away.
“Isn’t that how, this, works?” Mordred gestured in Morgana’s direction with his eyes.
“No. Maybe Morgana should explain it to you this time. She’s better with wordy stuff.”
“You’re more of an action man?” Mordred’s eyebrows added emphasis.
“Stop it.”
“You flirted first, three months ago.”
“It’s genetic. Notice my sister?”
Mordred went home. He wished he had further to go.
His neighbours came over the next day, moderately early without being too early, and explained the Pi philosophy in greater detail. Arthur was right, Morgana was much better at wordy stuff. They’d broken up with Merlin only a few weeks before Christmas and while they were both equally fond of Mordred - in different ways, of course - it was too soon, plus he was too unfamiliar with the concept of polyamory. Had Morgana known how tortured Mordred’s soul was, she would never have joked about Arthur kissing him at midnight.
They treated him like an adult, without talking down to him, and insisted that nothing said the previous night changed anything. “Except we owe you a birthday present.”
“This year we’re celebrating anti-Christmas. Not Antichrist-mas, just non-commercialised celebration of…”
“Shut up Arthur,” Morgana said bluntly. He did. Mordred smiled.
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
Morgana and Arthur say ‘thanks for ignoring Mordred’s stupid request for no present’ because your gift inspired theirs - driving lessons to go with the car! Arthur’s safe and sensible behind the wheel (who knew, right?) and Morgana drives like The Stig. Lancelot and Gwen bought me fluffy dice that smell like pineapple to hang from the mirror. I Love These People! I’ve got the phone on now, just at the flat (like I need a mobile, hey?) if you want to call and have a chat. I know you and Morgause have been divorced longer than you were married but I always wished you were my dad instead of her being my mum.
Sorry if that’s a bit gushy…
*~~~*
Morgana brought over the Halloween costume she’d picked out for Mordred. Arthur had told him to just go with it instead of kicking up a stink, she’d only nag until he caved, plus her ideas were usually fantastic. This year’s theme was ‘Jonny Depp characters from Tim Burton films’. Morgana was Edward Scissorhands and Arthur would be Sweeney Todd, with Mordred as Ichabod Crane. Lancelot was going to be Willy Wonka and Gwen the Mad Hatter.
“Your boobs stick out too much to be Edward Scissorhands. You should swap with Arthur.”
“Arthur’s too fat. I mean broad for that outfit, in all the wrong places. You and I will have to swap. Don’t bother going into the next room. We’re both grownups. Besides, we need to talk.”
“Are you breaking up with me even though I’m not part of IT?”
“No, actually, we’d very much like you to become part of us. Our only concern is whether you’d get jealous. This isn’t as sexually balanced as previous equations. I’m Het, you’re Gay, Arthur’s Bi. Greedy piggy has no qualms being in the middle - figuratively, there will be NO three-way action happening with this combination.”
Mordred smiled in happy relief. Morgana beamed back.
“I adore you, like I adore Gwen. We never so much as kissed, although even Lancelot tried urging us in that direction.” Morgana rolled her eyes. Mordred chuckled.
“What if I can’t handle it?” he asked solemnly. He’d never had friends before. Now he had four and they were all terrific. He’d have none again.
“Then I will step aside for a time.”
“You’d do that? Put ME before…?”
“Firecracker-dragon sex with Arthur? Yes I would.”
“Why?” Mordred wouldn’t give up sitting at the bus stop because the car broke down with Arthur, let alone sex if he could get it. He used to wank whenever he heard Merlin and Arthur going at it, now even hearing him do it with Morgana turned Mordred on. He had to stop thinking about what simply being kissed by Arthur would feel like and get his breathing under control.
“That’s why,” Morgana said tenderly, placing a finger under Mordred’s chin and looking through his eyes into his soul. He didn’t expect to see such an incredibly beautiful smile on her face. “People usually get terribly pissed off when the car they’re travelling in breaks down. Not you two.”
“I wish you were my mum. I don’t mean you’re old!” He added quickly.
Morgana gave another of her bone-splintering hugs. “I love you too.”
“I don’t want you two to break up,” Mordred admitted.
“Arthur and I are elastic. Relations get stretched sometimes but we eventually bounce back into our regular shape. We haven’t known you two years yet, and already can’t imagine life without you. Any of us,” Morgana emphasised her last point.
“He won’t just have sex with me and change his mind?” Mordred thought it best to ask all the stupidly humiliating questions before involving Arthur in the conversation. He knew they’d all seen his detention ink although none of the four friends had mentioned it, ever.
Morgana became head-to-toe stern. “Arthur doesn’t do ‘just have sex’ not with anyone. He describes our early relationship as ‘banging off and on’ because we both went to single-gender boarding schools and were only in the same apartment building three months of every year. There was never anyone in between until we started university, even then were how we are now. We always wrote, emailed and telephoned. He’s a pathetic romantic - just what you need.”
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
Halloween was the greatest. I’ve put in heaps of photos. Oh yeah, and Arthur kissed me goodnight…
*~~~*
They huddled in Mordred’s armchair, legs hanging over opposite armrests as they kissed repeatedly. His jaw was getting saw, tongue tired, and cock hard as they turned their heads to kiss at yet another different angle. The pressure of lips was wonderfully warm, alternating between sticky and dry because they’d been doing nothing but this for almost an hour.
Morgana had yoga, followed by an adult Tupperware party. Arthur would be staying the whole night, for the first time, at Mordred’s invitation. Sex wasn’t guaranteed. With kissing like this, sex wasn’t necessary.
“I love you,” Mordred mumbled before his tongue dove into Arthur’s mouth again.
“It’s difficult to say the first time you mean it, isn’t it?” Arthur asked when they paused to rest. Mordred nodded. “I love you too.”
“Would you like…? I’m ready to…”
“Don’t be embarrassed. If you want something, tell me.”
Mordred whispered directly into Arthur’s ear. Arthur did everything Mordred asked and made a few suggestions. Morgana was right - they did not ‘just have sex’.
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
I’m having anti-Christmas (not to be confused with Antichrist-mas) at my place. You won’t have to bring anything. My friends really want to meet ‘My step-dad Gwaine’ - they reckon I drive them mad talking about you the way you reckon I drive you mad talking about Arthur. If that made any sense then you’ve had too much eggnog. Gwen makes righteous eggnog! Please come and meet everybody (especially Morgana, I told her what you said about the photo I sent of her in the Edward Scissorhands ‘bondage suit’ and she wants revenge)…
*~~~*
“Remember when you hated Christmas?” Arthur asked as he leaned back so Mordred could watch his dick move inside Arthur’s arse. They’d been exclusive for three years, since Morgana and Gwaine finally met, but bare-backing remained a rare indulgence.
“In the dark years, before it became tradition to wake me up with a blow job?” Mordred grabbed Arthur’s hips and arched his own up to reach higher, deeper as Arthur rode him. “God yes, oah, come with me, come.”
They shuddered and exclaimed together before huddling in the bundle of sheets. They had time for another snooze - and possibly another round - before they had to shower and dress for the wedding.
“Did Morgana pick your suit?” Mordred asked.
“Probably, she definitely picked Gwaine’s,” Arthur replied with a groan.
“And the bride wore a gown inspired by Tim Burton…” Mordred began.
“I think she’s gone for Harry Potter theme - she certainly looked like Bellatrix Lestrange after the trial-run at the hairdressers.”
“Who are we then?”
“Remus Lupin and Sirius Black,” Arthur replied without hesitation.
“I’m Sirius because I was locked away in Azkaban?”
“Not necessarily. We all have our histories Mordred.”
“Don’t bother telling me, I don’t care. I know you and love you now.”
“Happy Birthday Mordred, my lover-boy. P.S. I love Christmas.” Arthur added in a whisper.
Mordred whispered back: “Me too.”
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Mordred/highlight*Arthur*
Rated: not quite R Words: 3684
Warning/s: AU, slut-Morgause, occasional coarse language
Summary: Mordred hated Christmas, with good reason. Then he met his unusual neighbours.
Prompt supplied by babydracky: AU, Mordred has always hated Christmas. Mordred/Arthur or Mordred/Morgana
Mordred had a list of reasons to hate Christmas.
- He was born on the same date. This meant he received one present, once a year, not at least one present at least twice a year.
- His mother married a Seventh Day Adventist. Odin didn’t celebrate Christmas OR birthdays, so from ages 3-7 Mordred received nothing. Prime Santa years, wasted, just so Morgause could have ‘guilt-free’ cock on tap. Thank ‘God’ she pissed Odin off for someone else.
- Every year since her divorce, Morgause had a different boyfriend and Mordred would have to go to Dick-of-the-moment’s traditional family gathering. He’d be surrounded by strangers and teased by the other children for being a mute freak when he was agonisingly shy. The most heartbreaking phrase was “Go and play with your new friends,” which translated into “Piss of Mord, and leave Mummy alone so she can get laid.” Sometimes he hated his mother as much as Christmas.
- Took the biscuit!
Morgause married her second husband, Gwaine, when Mordred was thirteen. Mordred liked Gwaine, and Gwaine liked Mordred. Unfortunately, as Mordred’s fifteenth birthday approached, he discovered his mother was having an affair with Gwaine’s destitute brother, Cenred.
Cenred and Mordred hated each other.
That wasn’t the worst part. Mordred overheard their plan for Christmas Eve shenanigans. Cenred intended to dress as Santa, pop down the main chimney, and they’d do it on the hearth in the living room - without removing any of the costume. As if that wasn’t disgusting enough, if they got caught (which they hoped they would) Morgause planned to tell Gwaine she thought it was him in the Santa suit. He was bound to file for divorce, and she would claim to be wrongly accused of adultery so their pre-nup guaranteed her 75% of Gwaine’s assets.
Bitch!
Mordred was sick of her manipulative, sluttish shit. Gwaine could be a dickhead, but only ever in a goofball fun kind of way. So Mordred snuck downstairs on Christmas Eve, broke the thermostat and blocked the chimney without his mother finding out. He huddled in a bundle of blankets in the attic so he could hear Cenred on the roof, and climb up after him and drop his mother’s bowling ball down the chimney and hopefully onto Cenred’s head. Then Mordred scampered downstairs to the master bedroom, knocked on the door to ask Gwaine to light the fire because his room was freezing. Leaving the window open all afternoon made that a fact. Morgause couldn’t say no without revealing her affair and had to hope the smoke warned Cenred off.
Smoky chimney led to discovery, divorce, and juvenile detention for Mordred until he turned eighteen. The system found him a flat and a job. His nineteenth birthday was three months away and he still had both - plus snail mail from Gwaine, which was nicely unexpected.
Not so nice were Mordred’s neighbours, Morgana and Arthur. They weren’t ‘bad’ people, just loud. Especially when they were arguing or having sex and they seemed to be constantly doing one or the other. Mordred had difficulty finding the correct key (he only had two) and then fitting it in the lock. It sounded like Merlin was next door again. Mordred often wrestled with his conscience about telling his neighbours they were cheating on each other with the same bloke but as he had yet to say ‘Hi’ to either of them, he kept Merlin's secret.
Arthur whistled Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side as he came down the hall with a bag of takeaway, Lebanese or Turkish by the aroma. Mordred hesitated, gaping like a fish between his open door and Arthur. Blow it. “Merlin's in there. With, Morgana, you know.”
“Brilliant.” Arthur beamed. Mordred heard Tom Jones singing ‘why, why, why, Delilah’ in the least rational corners of his brain and could imagine Arthur with a knife in his hand as Morgana stood there laughing. Arthur held out a hand as though to stop Mordred jumping off a bridge. “No, it’s not what you think. We’re all together.”
“Threesome?” Mordred asked. He thought that stuff only happened in pornos.
“Ah, no. There’s more to it than that.” Arthur looked at the food bags with his head cocked to one side. “Look, the pide’s getting cold and it sounds like they’re done saying hello. Another time maybe, you could come over and we’ll explain it to you. Not that you look the sheltered type,” Arthur added with a friendly smile. His blue eyes didn’t glance at the ‘Bitch’ tattoos some arsehole inked into Mordred’s wrist and neck before raping him while he was inside. “Few people have heard of polyamory.”
“I thought it was polygamy,” Mordred admitted.
“See, that’s another thing entirely. Nice to finally meet you Mordred, that’s right, isn’t it?”
Mordred nodded.
“You should speak up more. You have a lovely voice, matches your face.”
“How’d you know my-name?” Mordred asked before Arthur disappeared through his own door.
“Your parole officer, when you first moved in. They didn’t tell us why you were in detention. That’s just for sex offenders - and no, I’m not one of those either.” Arthur grinned boldly. Mordred smiled in return, although he didn’t find the comment funny. “Everyone has secrets and a past Mordred. If you didn’t deserve a second chance they wouldn’t have let you out.”
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
Thanks for the card and grocery market gift voucher. Fridge, cupboard and belly are all full for the first time since my arrest. Crowds aren’t my thing so I gave the footy tickets to the bloke next door. Arthur thinks he’s funny but he’s not. He’s alright, for a dickhead who thinks I’m redeemable. You’d like him. Not as much as you’d like Morgana though…
*~~~*
Mordred answered the knock on his door wearing t-shirt and undies. His parole officer wasn’t due until tomorrow and he couldn’t be buggered putting pants on for uninvited guests.
“Oh my, trey cute ensemble,” Morgana said with a merry smirk. “You are a tasty one.” Her green eyes travelled over Mordred like a tourist bus, stopping in unexpected places longer than necessary while whizzing by others of greater importance.
Mordred preferred the male physique but he could appreciate a fine female form when one wiggled into view, like a sculpture worked in humanity rather than bronze. He’d kicked a juvenile justice psychologist in the nuts for suggesting his sexuality was linked to Gwaine. ‘Your stepfather remains the only person you trust implicitly,’ that bit was true. But it wasn’t Mordred’s slutty mother that treated him like an inflatable doll after lights out, and if anything, Mordred believed that should make him straight. “I’m gay,” he told Morgana.
“I can still look.”
Mordred smiled.
“Our dishwasher’s broken, just in time for pre-enormous-party preparations. Mind if we borrow yours? We’ll provide dish powder as well as paying for the inconvenience.”
“No inconvenience, I don’t use it. I have one plate, one bowl, a mug, glass, knife, fork, and three spoons. The saucepan and frypan aren’t dishwasher safe.”
“Microwave meals and takeaway?” Morgana asked knowingly.
“As often as possible,” Mordred admitted.
“That’s it, we’re keeping you.” Morgana cocked an eyebrow and stroked Mordred’s cheek, causing him to wonder if ‘flirt’ was her natural mode of behaviour. “Is now convenient, for the dishwasher?”
Mordred nodded. “I’ll find some pants.”
“Shouldn’t bother,” Morgana quipped over her shoulder with a cheeky smile.
He bothered regardless and tried to find something to do so he wouldn’t look like a lazy bum when Morgana returned. Arthur came too, both wheeling large trunks covered in fabric that reminded Mordred of his mother’s thigh boots. Cringe!
“Too late,” Arthur said in mock disappointment as he spied Mordred’s jeans. Mordred didn’t realise he could blush down there and quickly turned his attention to Morgana’s open trunk.
“That’s a lot of di-ildos.”
“It’s not that kind of party,” Morgana explained as she began loading dildos and vibrators into Mordred’s dishwasher, “not quite.”
“You didn’t warn him? Way to freak the poor boy out, Morgana. We make a living hosting ‘adult Tupperware’ parties - we don’t do personal demonstrations.”
“Way to gross the poor boy out, Arthur,” Morgana muttered. Arthur winked. Mordred smiled shyly then tried to make a more mature impression so they’d stop calling him ‘boy’.
“What’s in that one?” He pointed to Arthur’s trunk.
“Want a look? None of these have been used, they’re display only,” Arthur assured him as he knelt to unfasten the clasps.
Mordred hesitated before kneeling beside Arthur with a grin.
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
I doubt it’s an appropriate gift, but Arthur said this model’s discontinued and they can’t display what customers can’t order. Hope you get some use out of it, I sure won’t.
Morgana invited me to Christmas lunch. I said no. She was pretty pissed until Arthur said I’m entitled to spend my first Christmas on my own on my own. He’s not a complete dickhead after all. Morgana squeezed the breath out of me and said I HAD to see in the New Year with them, so that’s where I’ll be December 31. I haven’t met Merlin yet. His work keeps him away from home more often than not and it’s putting strain on their triangular relationship. There used to be a fourth, a woman named Gwen, who decided she preferred monogamy and married Arthur and Merlin's BFF. Have you met a Pi before? They believe in equal, deeply emotional relationships with multiple partners - all for one and one for all. Sex doesn’t even have to be part of it! I think that’s how Arthur explained it.
Thanks for setting up this flat - Duke told me at my last probationary interview EVER! - so please don’t buy me anything for birthday/Christmas this year. You’ve accidentally given me two terrific friends…
*~~~*
“So how come you don’t do Christmas, Mordred?” Arthur asked. He sat on the floor with his back against the couch. Morgana lay on the couch with her fingers running through Arthur’s brassy hair. He’d close his blue eyes occasionally and just enjoy the sensation. Mordred thought he was the most gorgeous Labrador…
Gwen’s husband-Lancelot?-nudged Mordred’s arm gently and handed him a flute of Champagne. “You’re staring again,” he whispered with a friendly smile.
“Oh, um, what? Christmas blows massive, greasy chunks.”
“Share!” the room chorused.
“No-o!” Mordred sang back. His response was met with warm chuckles and friendly smiles rather than derision.
Arthur sat forward. “If your reason for thinking Christmas blows beats mine I’ll…think of some fiendish prize when I’m sober.”
“He’ll kiss you at midnight!” Morgana declared with bright eyes, swinging around into a seated position with a leg either side of Arthur and her elbows on his shoulders.
Arthur shrugged her off. “Leave the boy alone.”
“I feature in your reason, I get a say in Mordred’s prize.”
“No you don’t!” Everyone shouted her down as one.
“Anywho,” Arthur said over their friends. “Morgana and I, getting busy in a guest room on Christmas Day. My dad catches us.”
“What are you doing?!” Morgana bellows. “SHE’S YOUR SISTER!” Gwen, Lancelot and Arthur join in at the punch line.
“What?” Mordred asks, disgusted.
“That’s what we said, only with more panic and revulsion. As we’d banging on and off for…?” Arthur tilted his head back enquiringly.
“Nineteen months, you never remember. I’m so insulted.”
“I demanded to know what made him think that.”
“Before he bothered getting off me, mind you. Uther and my mother had an affair for several years. We confronted the philanderers in front of all the gathered guests and the man I thought was my father demanded DNA tests.”
“So your Uther isn’t Morgana’s father?” Mordred asked with relief.
“Yeah, he is.” Arthur sipped his Champagne. “He isn’t mine.”
Lancelot thumped Mordred’s back because he’d snorted Champagne through his nose and choked while trying not to laugh. Gwen ran off in search of tissues so Mordred could blow his nose.
“Your turn,” Arthur said drily.
“Top up all the drinks, then.” Everyone was leaning forward in silent rapture before Mordred was halfway through his ‘why I hate Christmas’ recital. Morgana wiped tears from her eye more than once. “Then came the Christmas that made me your neighbour.” No-one suggested he stop, so he continued.
Morgana leapt from the couch and crushed Mordred in her arms when he was done. “Oh baby!” she said with deeper affection than he’d ever received from his mother. “And we missed your birthday!” Morgana held Mordred’s face in both hands and smothered cheeks and forehead with kisses.
“Help!” He yelped. Lancelot, Gwen and Arthur laughed, but eventually freed him.
Arthur leaned in close and murmured “You win.” He chinked their glasses together. Mordred half-wished Arthur would be kissing him at midnight.
Mordred made it to the countdown without passing out, vomiting or pissing himself. Everyone kissed everyone for different durations as the year turned over. He made sure not to cling to Arthur or try for more than the comfortable kiss on the cheek given to Lancelot.
“Thanks for coming,” Arthur murmured.
“How’d you know?” Mordred chortled giddily at his own innuendo. Arthur barked out a short, sharp laugh. Then he moved the party hat slipping over Mordred’s right eye.
“You better get home soon.”
“Morgana offered me the couch.” Mordred stumbled over the statement. Why was Arthur kicking him out?
“Probably not a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not available,” Arthur reminded him in a gentle hush and moved away.
“Isn’t that how, this, works?” Mordred gestured in Morgana’s direction with his eyes.
“No. Maybe Morgana should explain it to you this time. She’s better with wordy stuff.”
“You’re more of an action man?” Mordred’s eyebrows added emphasis.
“Stop it.”
“You flirted first, three months ago.”
“It’s genetic. Notice my sister?”
Mordred went home. He wished he had further to go.
His neighbours came over the next day, moderately early without being too early, and explained the Pi philosophy in greater detail. Arthur was right, Morgana was much better at wordy stuff. They’d broken up with Merlin only a few weeks before Christmas and while they were both equally fond of Mordred - in different ways, of course - it was too soon, plus he was too unfamiliar with the concept of polyamory. Had Morgana known how tortured Mordred’s soul was, she would never have joked about Arthur kissing him at midnight.
They treated him like an adult, without talking down to him, and insisted that nothing said the previous night changed anything. “Except we owe you a birthday present.”
“This year we’re celebrating anti-Christmas. Not Antichrist-mas, just non-commercialised celebration of…”
“Shut up Arthur,” Morgana said bluntly. He did. Mordred smiled.
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
Morgana and Arthur say ‘thanks for ignoring Mordred’s stupid request for no present’ because your gift inspired theirs - driving lessons to go with the car! Arthur’s safe and sensible behind the wheel (who knew, right?) and Morgana drives like The Stig. Lancelot and Gwen bought me fluffy dice that smell like pineapple to hang from the mirror. I Love These People! I’ve got the phone on now, just at the flat (like I need a mobile, hey?) if you want to call and have a chat. I know you and Morgause have been divorced longer than you were married but I always wished you were my dad instead of her being my mum.
Sorry if that’s a bit gushy…
*~~~*
Morgana brought over the Halloween costume she’d picked out for Mordred. Arthur had told him to just go with it instead of kicking up a stink, she’d only nag until he caved, plus her ideas were usually fantastic. This year’s theme was ‘Jonny Depp characters from Tim Burton films’. Morgana was Edward Scissorhands and Arthur would be Sweeney Todd, with Mordred as Ichabod Crane. Lancelot was going to be Willy Wonka and Gwen the Mad Hatter.
“Your boobs stick out too much to be Edward Scissorhands. You should swap with Arthur.”
“Arthur’s too fat. I mean broad for that outfit, in all the wrong places. You and I will have to swap. Don’t bother going into the next room. We’re both grownups. Besides, we need to talk.”
“Are you breaking up with me even though I’m not part of IT?”
“No, actually, we’d very much like you to become part of us. Our only concern is whether you’d get jealous. This isn’t as sexually balanced as previous equations. I’m Het, you’re Gay, Arthur’s Bi. Greedy piggy has no qualms being in the middle - figuratively, there will be NO three-way action happening with this combination.”
Mordred smiled in happy relief. Morgana beamed back.
“I adore you, like I adore Gwen. We never so much as kissed, although even Lancelot tried urging us in that direction.” Morgana rolled her eyes. Mordred chuckled.
“What if I can’t handle it?” he asked solemnly. He’d never had friends before. Now he had four and they were all terrific. He’d have none again.
“Then I will step aside for a time.”
“You’d do that? Put ME before…?”
“Firecracker-dragon sex with Arthur? Yes I would.”
“Why?” Mordred wouldn’t give up sitting at the bus stop because the car broke down with Arthur, let alone sex if he could get it. He used to wank whenever he heard Merlin and Arthur going at it, now even hearing him do it with Morgana turned Mordred on. He had to stop thinking about what simply being kissed by Arthur would feel like and get his breathing under control.
“That’s why,” Morgana said tenderly, placing a finger under Mordred’s chin and looking through his eyes into his soul. He didn’t expect to see such an incredibly beautiful smile on her face. “People usually get terribly pissed off when the car they’re travelling in breaks down. Not you two.”
“I wish you were my mum. I don’t mean you’re old!” He added quickly.
Morgana gave another of her bone-splintering hugs. “I love you too.”
“I don’t want you two to break up,” Mordred admitted.
“Arthur and I are elastic. Relations get stretched sometimes but we eventually bounce back into our regular shape. We haven’t known you two years yet, and already can’t imagine life without you. Any of us,” Morgana emphasised her last point.
“He won’t just have sex with me and change his mind?” Mordred thought it best to ask all the stupidly humiliating questions before involving Arthur in the conversation. He knew they’d all seen his detention ink although none of the four friends had mentioned it, ever.
Morgana became head-to-toe stern. “Arthur doesn’t do ‘just have sex’ not with anyone. He describes our early relationship as ‘banging off and on’ because we both went to single-gender boarding schools and were only in the same apartment building three months of every year. There was never anyone in between until we started university, even then were how we are now. We always wrote, emailed and telephoned. He’s a pathetic romantic - just what you need.”
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
Halloween was the greatest. I’ve put in heaps of photos. Oh yeah, and Arthur kissed me goodnight…
*~~~*
They huddled in Mordred’s armchair, legs hanging over opposite armrests as they kissed repeatedly. His jaw was getting saw, tongue tired, and cock hard as they turned their heads to kiss at yet another different angle. The pressure of lips was wonderfully warm, alternating between sticky and dry because they’d been doing nothing but this for almost an hour.
Morgana had yoga, followed by an adult Tupperware party. Arthur would be staying the whole night, for the first time, at Mordred’s invitation. Sex wasn’t guaranteed. With kissing like this, sex wasn’t necessary.
“I love you,” Mordred mumbled before his tongue dove into Arthur’s mouth again.
“It’s difficult to say the first time you mean it, isn’t it?” Arthur asked when they paused to rest. Mordred nodded. “I love you too.”
“Would you like…? I’m ready to…”
“Don’t be embarrassed. If you want something, tell me.”
Mordred whispered directly into Arthur’s ear. Arthur did everything Mordred asked and made a few suggestions. Morgana was right - they did not ‘just have sex’.
*~~~*
Dear Gwaine,
I’m having anti-Christmas (not to be confused with Antichrist-mas) at my place. You won’t have to bring anything. My friends really want to meet ‘My step-dad Gwaine’ - they reckon I drive them mad talking about you the way you reckon I drive you mad talking about Arthur. If that made any sense then you’ve had too much eggnog. Gwen makes righteous eggnog! Please come and meet everybody (especially Morgana, I told her what you said about the photo I sent of her in the Edward Scissorhands ‘bondage suit’ and she wants revenge)…
*~~~*
“Remember when you hated Christmas?” Arthur asked as he leaned back so Mordred could watch his dick move inside Arthur’s arse. They’d been exclusive for three years, since Morgana and Gwaine finally met, but bare-backing remained a rare indulgence.
“In the dark years, before it became tradition to wake me up with a blow job?” Mordred grabbed Arthur’s hips and arched his own up to reach higher, deeper as Arthur rode him. “God yes, oah, come with me, come.”
They shuddered and exclaimed together before huddling in the bundle of sheets. They had time for another snooze - and possibly another round - before they had to shower and dress for the wedding.
“Did Morgana pick your suit?” Mordred asked.
“Probably, she definitely picked Gwaine’s,” Arthur replied with a groan.
“And the bride wore a gown inspired by Tim Burton…” Mordred began.
“I think she’s gone for Harry Potter theme - she certainly looked like Bellatrix Lestrange after the trial-run at the hairdressers.”
“Who are we then?”
“Remus Lupin and Sirius Black,” Arthur replied without hesitation.
“I’m Sirius because I was locked away in Azkaban?”
“Not necessarily. We all have our histories Mordred.”
“Don’t bother telling me, I don’t care. I know you and love you now.”
“Happy Birthday Mordred, my lover-boy. P.S. I love Christmas.” Arthur added in a whisper.
Mordred whispered back: “Me too.”