Merlin: The Magic Number
Title: The Magic Number
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin/Morgana (to be exact, there's Arthur/Morgana, Merlin/Morgana, Arthur/Merlin/Morgana, and lastly Merlin/Arthur), mentions of past Arthur/Sophia and Merlin/Will
Summary: Merlin sincerely has no idea how the siblings do it, how they both twist him around their little fingers so easily, how they find that secret way to stifle, to chain and gag his rationality, how they make him want and do things he's never even dreamt of.
Word Count: ~ 4800
Warnings: maybe a hint of incest if you're sensitive, they're not blood-related though
Author Notes: Modern AU, written for kinkme_merlin a while ago. The prompt was Arthur/Merlin/Morgana. The siblings together seduce Merlin. Many thanks to sheswatching for beta'ing! I should possibly also thank Angela Carter for inspiring this in the first place, and Blind Melon for the title.
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC, not to me. I certainly make no profit out of this.
Sunlight flickers along the walls of the moving train like a natural stroboscope, an unwelcome reminder of a sweaty night spent in a club, high on pills and the youthful illusion of immortality, dancing, moving, gyrating, soaked clothes, long dark hair that sticks to skin and blond that turns dark with moisture, lips and hands, brisk and possessive, everything dictated by, pulsating with the dark, heavy rhythm that blasts from the speakers, an external heartbeat.
Merlin rests his heavy head against the window pane and watches the world go by, eyes moving rapidly in their sockets.
With every house, every fence and tree, the distance grows and his heart feels a bit lighter, the confusion a little less suffocating.
*
A flower -- that is how it all starts. So simple and unobtrusive; a weed in some people's eyes.
Something so small.
A naïve small-town biology student bends down to break the flower's neck, picks it and the moment he rights himself, a woman steps into his life to shake it to its very foundations.
A beautiful woman, all graceful lines and pale skin, blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes and raven hair that curls around her shoulders effortlessly.
The student stands and looks, shocked into silence and admiration, so it takes a while until he processes her words, their meaning.
“Did you know that you can suck the nectar from them?”
Words never were his strong point, so he just shakes his head in answer. No.
She steps forward, takes the flower from his hand -- her touch is cool on his skin, he shivers --, then she plucks one of the blossoms from the stem and sucks on its end.
He is spell-bound.
“Tastes like honey. Here--,” and she plucks another light purple blossom to hold it out to him (bait him, he thinks) and raises her eyebrow when he doesn't react right away, so he takes a step forward and sucks the petal (Labiatae, rings Professor Gaius' voice) between his lips.
It is true, it tastes sweet and gentle on his tongue, almost like honey.
A finger brushes his cheek lightly when her hand draws back, and he feels the touch all over.
“I'm Morgana,” she finally introduces herself.
“Merlin,” he presses forth, his voice sounding harsh and just a little too loud between them.
“Come, Merlin.”
Morgana smiles and takes his hand, and to his own surprise he follows.
*
Merlin presses his forehead against the window, blessed cool on overheated skin.
Too much sun, he's sat there far too long, head void of thoughts, just wanting to get some heat back into his chilled bones.
All that's hot is his skin, his insides remain congealed.
*
Steps a rhythmic patter, naked feet on tiles, he makes his way down a dark corridor towards the kitchen.
It feels weird to search through the cupboards for a glass, intrusive, although most of them are half-empty, but his throat feels parched and Morgana is too pretty in her sleep to even consider waking her.
“The one on the far right,” a voice startles him and he jumps, literally, letting go of the cupboard's door. It slams closed.
“Bloody hell! Do you have to make such a racket?” the voice, belonging to a stunningly-attractive but apparently also stunningly-impolite blond guy, growls. “Who are you anyway?”
Merlin's stomach lurches. He's just realised that he knows nothing about Morgana.
Well, he knows quite a lot actually, but nothing that doesn't fall under intimacy or exchanging bodily fluids.
The blond guy could very well be her boyfriend, and wouldn't that be fun?
He doesn't answer immediately, waits to see if he can get away with it, but the guy starts to drum his fingers on the door frame, his sharp, blue eyes scrutinising him.
“Merlin. I'm with Morgana?”
Why he formulates it as a question he doesn't know. Maybe he hopes vagueness will leave a way out should it come to the worst.
“Very well.” Merlin releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding. “Turn out the light when you're done?”
It's really more of an order than a question, and it's clear that his answer isn't required when the stranger just turns around and disappears in the dark depths of the flat.
Merlin drains two full glasses of water from the tap.
*
He is tired, could very well do with some months of sleep, but as soon as he closes his eyes it's all there, imaginary fingers sliding over his skin.
And he panics. Again.
*
Morgana is nothing if not demanding, she certainly had been the night before, and in the morning she wakes Merlin by pumping her fist up and down his cock, nuzzling into his neck.
There are definitely worse ways to be woken up.
He is not a morning person, so he just lets her for a moment, sees how much he can get out of this without actively participating. And really, he should've known Morgana would have none of it.
“Come on, Merlin!” She bites his earlobe, which doesn't get her much more than a lazy moan from his lips, but then she grabs his hand and slides it up her smooth thigh and under her negligée.
His fingers slip between her legs almost of their own accord, it's warmer and moister the deeper he slides, and all thoughts of sleep evaporate.
Morgana chuckles as he rolls himself on top of her, and mockingly evades his searching mouth, while at the same time she moves into his touch, inviting him in.
Merlin pushes one finger inside of her boldly, distracting her enough so that he can pull her face close by a fistful of hair to capture her mouth and lick into it, mirroring the movements of his finger buried in her swollen flesh with his tongue in her mouth.
“God, Merlin--,” she moans between kisses, arches off the bed as Merlin's fingers graze a right spot. “Let me...”
Anything, his sex-addled brain thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud, just lets her move away for a short moment. There isn't even enough time for him to start missing her touch, before she returns and pushes him onto his back to roll a condom over his cock. It throbs heavily between his legs, twitches interested as she runs a single finger along the length of it before she rolls the rubber down.
And then, oh fuck, Morgana is straddling him. She lowers herself onto him with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, and despite the position they're already in, despite what they've already done, Merlin still blushes as he moves to meet her and she opens her eyes to look at him, while he slides into her.
The silk of her negligée doesn't leave much to the imagination, it caresses her curves and pools around her waist where she moves against him, riding him in a lazy rhythm, but he still wants to see, and so he pulls one strap from her shoulder, while he thrusts up, moves inside her, to free one of her pale breasts, the pink nipple hard and erect.
Morgana chuckles once more as he pulls her down to suck on it, swirl his tongue around it, but it's a much deeper sound now, laden with arousal, and she only lets him have his way for a moment before she straightens and begins to rock harder, deeper, and now it's Merlin who arches his back, who moans as she contracts her muscles around him.
He tries, he really does try, but fuck, she's good at this, far better than he is and when she leans back, cants her hips in a new, mind-blowing way, he can't hold back any longer.
The pressure coils tight in his groin and one, two, three thrusts are all he manages, before he bucks and then spasms to spill himself.
He finishes her off with his mouth and hands afterwards, pushes his tongue into her while his fingers stimulate her clit. Morgana doesn't seem to mind as she claws at his shoulders and pulls his hair as she climaxes on a long, whimpered exhale, and then they breathe heavily in companionable silence for a while.
This is not the kind of thing that ends in cuddling and mutual declarations of love.
It's new for Merlin, refreshingly so, but he feels it isn't for Morgana.
At some point he gets out of bed to go to the bathroom, alleviates the pressure on his bladder and cleans himself up cursorily, and only when he goes back to find Morgana still in bed, still dressed in purple silk (although she straightened herself out a bit by the look of it), he remembers last night's encounter.
“Who's the blond prat?” he asks as he climbs over her to get into bed again, because she makes no move to kick him out just yet and he doesn't feel like leaving.
“Her step-brother,” a familiar voice comes from the door and makes him jump, again, and Merlin's sure it looks hilarious, because he falls head first into the pillows, and also because he can hear Morgana stifle a laugh before she says: “Morning, Arthur, had a nice night?”
The blond prat swaggers over to the bed, no really he swaggers, and sits down on the edge next to Morgana, generously ignoring the state of the sheets.
“Not really, no,” he answers her question, and Merlin thinks his tone is surprisingly neutral for what he has to say next. “I broke up with Sophia.”
Morgana pats his knee. “Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry.”
Arthur directs a glance at Merlin, one of those that prickle at the back of the neck and along the spine, and then turns back to his sister to huff a short laugh.
“No, you're not. You hated her.”
Morgana breaks out into that warm smile that still startles Merlin, because Morgana's whole demeanour is so regal that one wouldn't think her capable of such warmth.
“True,” she admits, and then opens her arms to hug Arthur and although he looks like he thinks she's being far too sentimental, he lets her.
When she lets go again, he gets up to let his gaze wander pointedly over the bed and Morgana and Merlin.
“Take a shower. You reek of sex.”
Merlin suddenly longs for the ground under him to open up and swallow him.
*
Ealdor has never seemed that far away, and maybe that's because he has never wanted to go back there so badly.
Finally standing on the one and only platform in the midst of fields of barley and not much else, he takes the first free breath since hours.
*
Merlin spends almost the entirety of the next two months with the step-siblings, despite complaints from his mother and friends that they're never able to reach him.
Morgana and he still have sex occasionally and occasionally Arthur's still a prat, but mostly they are just good friends.
And really, Arthur isn't all that bad, especially after he saves Merlin's arse by finding the fault in one of his calculations prior to a very important presentation, and he is almost nice after Merlin dislodges a stray piece of biscuit from his throat before he can choke on it.
He still has a habit of looking at Merlin in that strange way that makes his skin crawl every now and then, and there's no doubt that there's little he enjoys more than teasing Merlin.
Morgana sometimes loses her temper with them, but mostly she just smiles fondly when Arthur calls him an idiot and Merlin refers to him as 'the prat' -- and that smile unsettles Merlin more than he'd like to admit.
Then again, Morgana and Arthur don't hold back with the bickering themselves, but all arguments aside, the siblings clearly are close -- they've both lost their mothers early and have grown up together under the care of Arthur's father, after Morgana's own father, who'd been a good friend of Uther Pendragon, died in a plane crash.
So there really is nothing dodgy about them obviously being a bit closer than real siblings, but when Morgana thanks Arthur for helping her out with a kiss to his lips -- that's nothing like the short pecks Merlin and his mother exchange --, or when Arthur distractedly runs a hand through her long, dark curls while they watch a DVD, all three squeezed onto the small couch together, Merlin still feels a bit uneasy.
*
“Merlin?”
His mother clearly isn't expecting him, but luckily she doesn't ask too many questions, swallows his excuse of needing to get away for a while, because she is a good mother, who knows when she has to push her child and when she should not.
*
It's Morgana's stupid idea.
Arthur's been tense all day. He's had lunch with his father, and while he never talks about it, Merlin knows from Morgana about how he's constantly trying to gain his father's approval and mostly fails.
Merlin's seen Arthur's father once, literally bumped into him as he struggled with the zip of his jacket while trudging down the stairs, and the glare from those hard eyes as he stammered his excuses is probably ingrained in his memory forever as one of the most frightening things he's ever seen.
He can hardly make out any traits of his father in Arthur, except maybe that certain air of authority.
All that authority doesn't help him with his sister though, and if Morgana decides that this night there will be Truth or Dare with the vodka on the rocks Merlin's preparing in the kitchen, it's going to happen. So it does.
“Your first time?” Arthur asks him, one glass of vodka and a few rather harmless questions into the game, and the omission is self-explanatory, 'first time' without further specification means the first time, and Merlin struggles a bit with himself, because this is something he hasn't told either of them about himself yet.
Morgana doesn't look too surprised, when Merlin mumbles something about Will and the barn behind old farmer Morris' house, which bothers him just a bit, but it's Arthur looking at him again that really unsettles him, and Merlin could swear that look is predatory if it weren't so laughable.
“Yours?” he asks Morgana and Arthur huffs, “Very original, Merlin,” but they both ignore it.
“He was two years younger and even less experienced than I,” she tells him, and something about all of this, the sudden quiet, a strange vibe in the air, gives Merlin a really bad feeling.
“We basically fumbled our way through it, and he came in a matter of seconds. Turns out, I really can beat him at everything.”
The garbled, indignant sound from Arthur pretty much confirms all of Merlin's suspicions and he feels a bit sick now indeed.
“He made up for it afterwards though,” Morgana adds with a smile for her step-brother -- and they're not blood-related, Merlin stresses for himself, but the queasiness won't go away.
He chooses 'dare' for his next turn, because he feels like he can't take much more truth tonight, and makes the mistake of underestimating Morgana and her devious ways.
“Kiss Arthur,” she orders without a moment's hesitation.
He should protest, Merlin thinks, and maybe it's the vodka or the images of Arthur and Morgana, sweating and rutting against each other in his head, but when he looks at Arthur still with that strange expression in his eyes and when his tongue darts out to lick his lips, it seems like the most logical thing in the world to push himself closer, slide over the bit of empty parquet floor between them, to cup Arthur's face with one shaking hand.
Once he's touched Arthur, once he's established contact, he realises that yes, he wants this, and bends forward to kiss him. Merlin presses his lips to his mouth and breathes in the scent so close to his skin hungrily.
Arthur parts his lips for him readily and Merlin takes it as a hint to move, so he does, tilts his head further for better access and before he really knows it, he's got one hand up Arthur's shirt, hot fingertips on even hotter skin, and is licking into his mouth.
Merlin sincerely has no idea how the siblings do it, how they both twist him around their little fingers so easily, how they find that secret way to stifle, to chain and gag his rationality, how they make him want and do things he's never even dreamt of.
*
His bed is a sanctuary.
It's still the same one that he got for his fourteenth birthday, when he was so excited to get something new, just for himself, that he never slept the last night in his old one.
Now he sleeps, because this, this is safe, safe and unsullied.
*
Morgana is not the only one who has bad ideas.
It's Merlin who suggests going out dancing on that Friday night and it's Arthur who vanishes into his room and comes back with a handful of pills he got from some guy called Edwin at university.
Merlin hesitates, doubts Arthur's definition of fun, but Morgana just tilts her head in that infuriating way that makes him feel like a child being scolded, and Arthur, well, Arthur's Arthur and doesn't stop bickering as long as it takes for Merlin to cave in and swallow one of the light blue ones.
They leave the house, and everything after that is loud and bright and utterly confusing.
He remembers a club, the ever-changing rhythm of the electronic tracks they play, heavy, deafening bass.
They drink, whiskey, because it's Arthur's choice this time, and then Morgana takes both their hands into hers and leads them onto the dance floor.
She pulls Merlin close, and he gives in, lets her melt against him, hips gyrating gently to the rhythm, while she looks over her shoulder.
And suddenly there's a solid warmth behind him, it's no feat to guess that it's Arthur who sneaks his hands around him to put them on Morgana's hips, while he breathes warm into Merlin's neck.
They dance, or what passes for dancing when they're really just rubbing their bodies against each other's.
Merlin feels great sandwiched between the two siblings; he couldn't imagine a place he'd rather be. Morgana kisses him, hot, open-mouthed kisses that leave him just as breathless as Arthur's mouth on his neck, sucking and biting, before he smooths his tongue over the marks, and he's pretty sure he'd just fall down if it weren't for the two bodies keeping him upright.
His clothes are soaked in no time, clinging to his skin, and it feels like he's on fire, but he can't get enough of this, rubs his painfully hard cock against Morgana's hipbone, while he feels Arthur's, equally intent, dig into his backside.
He buries a hand in Arthur's hair and pulls, twists his head so he can kiss his pouting lips, bite his lower lip and push his tongue inside, and then he gasps as Arthur pulls away to kiss his sister, watches them, sees the familiarity of their kiss and how their tongues slide and twist so easily.
More, it echoes in his head, more.
*
He wakes up in an empty house, and for the first time in what feels like days, his stomach feels fine and he has some cereal for breakfast.
It's strangely quiet.
*
“Let's go home.” It's Arthur who finally vocalises what they all are thinking.
Back at the flat they stumble into Arthur's room, struggle to get out of their soaked clothes to get on with whatever this is.
It's pretty obvious where it's all going, sort of inevitable at this point, but exhilaratingly new.
Merlin is sure he already came at least once, torn apart between Arthur working his hand between his and Morgana's body to squeeze his cock through his jeans and Morgana licking and nibbling on his sensitive ears, but he's been hard again for some time now and it's a relief to finally free himself from the confines of his trousers and pants.
Morgana looks beautiful naked, beautiful and otherworldly with her flawless skin almost shimmering white in the dim light, and still, it's Arthur who captivates Merlin, his well-defined muscles, the light cover of hair on his chest that runs out on its way down, only to reappear darker below his navel, and curl thick between his legs.
It's the first time Merlin's seen him completely naked like this, the first time Arthur has seen Merlin without his clothes, he remembers and blushes under Arthur's hot gaze that wanders over his body unashamedly, curiously, it's almost as if he can feel it touching him.
They'd probably have stood there staring forever, if it weren't for Morgana, who pushes Arthur down, makes him sit on his bed so she can straddle his lap, and then turns to extend a hand to Merlin.
He follows, like he always has since they first met, lets her guide him on his knees behind her.
She holds on to Arthur's shoulders as she cants her hips, making it easier for Merlin's hand to be guided between her legs next. By now he knows exactly what it is that she wants from him, so he slides a finger into her where she's wet and open for him, and then he adds another and a third.
He fucks Morgana with his fingers, while she kisses her brother beneath her, moans into his mouth when Merlin twists his hand, uses a thumb to stimulate the tiny nub that brings her such pleasure, and places bites and kisses on her shoulders, all the while his eyes are locked with Arthur's.
Soon, very soon, Morgana shudders, clenches around his fingers to hold them inside, draw them in deeper and then she throws her head back and comes, nonsensical words spilling from her lips.
It's the hottest thing Merlin's ever experienced.
Only he has to revoke that statement when Morgana, still breathing heavily, wraps a hand around Arthur's cock, and Arthur moans but also shakes his head and breathes out, “No,” and “Merlin.”
His blue eyes bore into Merlin's, and Merlin thinks yes, before Arthur can even ask: “Fuck me?”
Morgana doesn't seem to mind, she smiles in fact, takes Arthur's chin into her hand and presses a short, almost chaste kiss to his lips, before she climbs off his lap and makes space for Merlin.
Arthur grabs him impatiently, pulls him against him with a little too much force and their mouths crash together, teeth colliding. It's messy and a little painful, but it feels just right.
Merlin shifts, pushes himself between Arthur's strong thighs and now Arthur's erection presses against his flat stomach, invites him to wrap a hand around it and stroke, spread the moisture from the tip along the length.
“No,” Arthur hisses, breaks their kiss to press his nose against Merlin's cheek, pants heavily against his ear. “I want-- Fuck me, please.”
It's Morgana who procures lube and condoms and hands them to Merlin, then she urges Arthur to lie back further up on the bed, strokes his damp hair out of his face and places gentle kisses on his face and jaw; but it's Merlin who pushes a well-slicked finger into Arthur, makes him groan and press back, it's Merlin Arthur looks at from half-lidded eyes, biting his lip as Merlin stretches him, twists his finger until the tight ring of muscles relaxes enough to take two fingers, and then three, and it's the same, he's done this just a moment ago, but it's so different.
Arthur moans disappointedly, when he removes his fingers and Merlin sweats, struggles to hold back when he rolls the rubber over his cock and slicks himself, bites his lip and encircles the base tight with his thumb and forefinger as he guides himself into Arthur, because, fuck, Arthur's so tight and hot around him, moans wantonly as Merlin pushes into him, and this, all of this -- it's more than enough already.
Morgana looks at him as he stills, almost chokes on a moan, before he thinks it's safe and nods at her, she smiles, and Merlin draws back, just to plunge into Arthur again, deeper with every time.
And Arthur writhes under him, moves to accommodate Merlin, give him better access, while Morgana holds him, strokes him, as if he needs her protection (and that's bollocks, Merlin thinks, if anyone needs protection it's him).
Merlin thrusts, hard and with abandon, and apparently he does something right, because suddenly Arthur throws his head back and releases a strangled sound, arches his back, so Merlin does it again, and again, and then he takes Arthur's cock in his hand and pumps, since he knows that he can't keep this up much longer, not with the blood rushing loudly in his ears and his orgasm building already, fluttering in his chest.
But he's lucky, the moment he decides to just let go, to surrender, Arthur digs his nails into his arm, hard, and spills himself, coating his belly and Merlin's hand in pale streaks of come.
Merlin gladly follows him over, lets the heat wash over him, and collapses, falls forward, where he clings to Arthur until it's over and he regains sense of where his body ends and Arthur's begins, and the stickiness between them.
And Morgana, Morgana is still there, pressing soft feathery kisses to both their shoulders.
*
It's wrong, his brain says. Is not, his heart insists.
And Merlin?
Merlin doesn't know.
*
He wakes first the next morning, needs a moment before he is able to make sense of the heavy air around him and the arm across his shoulder, the hot, hard flesh jabbing into his back.
And then he remembers.
It's not easy to wriggle out from underneath Arthur's arm, he's shaky, afraid to wake someone, but Arthur just smacks his lips once, when Merlin's weight lifts from the mattress.
Morgana is still there too, asleep, her back pressed against Arthur's.
Merlin tiptoes out of the room, vomits in the bathroom as quietly as he can, dresses and then he runs.
He sits in the park for a few hours, listless, lost, unable to go home because he left his keys at the flat and he's too shell-shocked to go back there, maybe ever.
In the end he gets on a train that'll bring him back to Ealdor.
*
It's two long and confused days later that Merlin opens the door to find Arthur on his mother's front step, and he wants to close it again right away, he really does, because he knows by now that he can't trust himself around the siblings, that he shouldn't let him talk, but he can't even do that.
“How did you find me?” he wants to know.
Arthur doesn't answer right away, takes a deep breath instead.
“I searched through your stuff,” he finally admits and has the decency to look a bit embarrassed at least, “found the name Ealdor and then all I had to do was ask the neighbours.”
His mum is going to be thrilled about the gossip he caused, but somehow Merlin just feels a strange warm feeling spread in his chest.
“Look,” Arthur suddenly bursts out. “I don't know what you think this, um, what we did with you-- I mean, Morgana she doesn't really care, she just wants some fun. I--”
Arthur looks at him, eyes open, expression unguarded, a rare occurrence, and Merlin almost takes pity -- almost, because he really wants to hear this.
“I like you, Merlin,” he finally says, almost inaudible. It's clear that it's not easy for him to say it out loud. “Like you like you.”
“And Morgana?” he asks, mainly to stop himself from breaking out into that stupid, dopey grin that he knows is threatening to take over his face.
Arthur scoffs, and directs a very frail, careful smile at him. “She won't let me back in if I don't talk to you. Confess my big manly crush on you -- her words, not mine.”
And what is Merlin supposed to do? He's lost the fight against the smile, breaks out in a stupidly happy grin, and he already knows he's going to lose the one against Arthur as well.
For now, he takes a step back.
“Come on in,” he says and Arthur's answering smile is blinding.
Merlin can admit defeat if he has to.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin/Morgana (to be exact, there's Arthur/Morgana, Merlin/Morgana, Arthur/Merlin/Morgana, and lastly Merlin/Arthur), mentions of past Arthur/Sophia and Merlin/Will
Summary: Merlin sincerely has no idea how the siblings do it, how they both twist him around their little fingers so easily, how they find that secret way to stifle, to chain and gag his rationality, how they make him want and do things he's never even dreamt of.
Word Count: ~ 4800
Warnings: maybe a hint of incest if you're sensitive, they're not blood-related though
Author Notes: Modern AU, written for kinkme_merlin a while ago. The prompt was Arthur/Merlin/Morgana. The siblings together seduce Merlin. Many thanks to sheswatching for beta'ing! I should possibly also thank Angela Carter for inspiring this in the first place, and Blind Melon for the title.
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to the BBC, not to me. I certainly make no profit out of this.
Sunlight flickers along the walls of the moving train like a natural stroboscope, an unwelcome reminder of a sweaty night spent in a club, high on pills and the youthful illusion of immortality, dancing, moving, gyrating, soaked clothes, long dark hair that sticks to skin and blond that turns dark with moisture, lips and hands, brisk and possessive, everything dictated by, pulsating with the dark, heavy rhythm that blasts from the speakers, an external heartbeat.
Merlin rests his heavy head against the window pane and watches the world go by, eyes moving rapidly in their sockets.
With every house, every fence and tree, the distance grows and his heart feels a bit lighter, the confusion a little less suffocating.
*
A flower -- that is how it all starts. So simple and unobtrusive; a weed in some people's eyes.
Something so small.
A naïve small-town biology student bends down to break the flower's neck, picks it and the moment he rights himself, a woman steps into his life to shake it to its very foundations.
A beautiful woman, all graceful lines and pale skin, blue eyes framed by thick, dark lashes and raven hair that curls around her shoulders effortlessly.
The student stands and looks, shocked into silence and admiration, so it takes a while until he processes her words, their meaning.
“Did you know that you can suck the nectar from them?”
Words never were his strong point, so he just shakes his head in answer. No.
She steps forward, takes the flower from his hand -- her touch is cool on his skin, he shivers --, then she plucks one of the blossoms from the stem and sucks on its end.
He is spell-bound.
“Tastes like honey. Here--,” and she plucks another light purple blossom to hold it out to him (bait him, he thinks) and raises her eyebrow when he doesn't react right away, so he takes a step forward and sucks the petal (Labiatae, rings Professor Gaius' voice) between his lips.
It is true, it tastes sweet and gentle on his tongue, almost like honey.
A finger brushes his cheek lightly when her hand draws back, and he feels the touch all over.
“I'm Morgana,” she finally introduces herself.
“Merlin,” he presses forth, his voice sounding harsh and just a little too loud between them.
“Come, Merlin.”
Morgana smiles and takes his hand, and to his own surprise he follows.
*
Merlin presses his forehead against the window, blessed cool on overheated skin.
Too much sun, he's sat there far too long, head void of thoughts, just wanting to get some heat back into his chilled bones.
All that's hot is his skin, his insides remain congealed.
*
Steps a rhythmic patter, naked feet on tiles, he makes his way down a dark corridor towards the kitchen.
It feels weird to search through the cupboards for a glass, intrusive, although most of them are half-empty, but his throat feels parched and Morgana is too pretty in her sleep to even consider waking her.
“The one on the far right,” a voice startles him and he jumps, literally, letting go of the cupboard's door. It slams closed.
“Bloody hell! Do you have to make such a racket?” the voice, belonging to a stunningly-attractive but apparently also stunningly-impolite blond guy, growls. “Who are you anyway?”
Merlin's stomach lurches. He's just realised that he knows nothing about Morgana.
Well, he knows quite a lot actually, but nothing that doesn't fall under intimacy or exchanging bodily fluids.
The blond guy could very well be her boyfriend, and wouldn't that be fun?
He doesn't answer immediately, waits to see if he can get away with it, but the guy starts to drum his fingers on the door frame, his sharp, blue eyes scrutinising him.
“Merlin. I'm with Morgana?”
Why he formulates it as a question he doesn't know. Maybe he hopes vagueness will leave a way out should it come to the worst.
“Very well.” Merlin releases a breath he didn't know he had been holding. “Turn out the light when you're done?”
It's really more of an order than a question, and it's clear that his answer isn't required when the stranger just turns around and disappears in the dark depths of the flat.
Merlin drains two full glasses of water from the tap.
*
He is tired, could very well do with some months of sleep, but as soon as he closes his eyes it's all there, imaginary fingers sliding over his skin.
And he panics. Again.
*
Morgana is nothing if not demanding, she certainly had been the night before, and in the morning she wakes Merlin by pumping her fist up and down his cock, nuzzling into his neck.
There are definitely worse ways to be woken up.
He is not a morning person, so he just lets her for a moment, sees how much he can get out of this without actively participating. And really, he should've known Morgana would have none of it.
“Come on, Merlin!” She bites his earlobe, which doesn't get her much more than a lazy moan from his lips, but then she grabs his hand and slides it up her smooth thigh and under her negligée.
His fingers slip between her legs almost of their own accord, it's warmer and moister the deeper he slides, and all thoughts of sleep evaporate.
Morgana chuckles as he rolls himself on top of her, and mockingly evades his searching mouth, while at the same time she moves into his touch, inviting him in.
Merlin pushes one finger inside of her boldly, distracting her enough so that he can pull her face close by a fistful of hair to capture her mouth and lick into it, mirroring the movements of his finger buried in her swollen flesh with his tongue in her mouth.
“God, Merlin--,” she moans between kisses, arches off the bed as Merlin's fingers graze a right spot. “Let me...”
Anything, his sex-addled brain thinks, but he doesn't say it out loud, just lets her move away for a short moment. There isn't even enough time for him to start missing her touch, before she returns and pushes him onto his back to roll a condom over his cock. It throbs heavily between his legs, twitches interested as she runs a single finger along the length of it before she rolls the rubber down.
And then, oh fuck, Morgana is straddling him. She lowers herself onto him with her head thrown back and her eyes closed, and despite the position they're already in, despite what they've already done, Merlin still blushes as he moves to meet her and she opens her eyes to look at him, while he slides into her.
The silk of her negligée doesn't leave much to the imagination, it caresses her curves and pools around her waist where she moves against him, riding him in a lazy rhythm, but he still wants to see, and so he pulls one strap from her shoulder, while he thrusts up, moves inside her, to free one of her pale breasts, the pink nipple hard and erect.
Morgana chuckles once more as he pulls her down to suck on it, swirl his tongue around it, but it's a much deeper sound now, laden with arousal, and she only lets him have his way for a moment before she straightens and begins to rock harder, deeper, and now it's Merlin who arches his back, who moans as she contracts her muscles around him.
He tries, he really does try, but fuck, she's good at this, far better than he is and when she leans back, cants her hips in a new, mind-blowing way, he can't hold back any longer.
The pressure coils tight in his groin and one, two, three thrusts are all he manages, before he bucks and then spasms to spill himself.
He finishes her off with his mouth and hands afterwards, pushes his tongue into her while his fingers stimulate her clit. Morgana doesn't seem to mind as she claws at his shoulders and pulls his hair as she climaxes on a long, whimpered exhale, and then they breathe heavily in companionable silence for a while.
This is not the kind of thing that ends in cuddling and mutual declarations of love.
It's new for Merlin, refreshingly so, but he feels it isn't for Morgana.
At some point he gets out of bed to go to the bathroom, alleviates the pressure on his bladder and cleans himself up cursorily, and only when he goes back to find Morgana still in bed, still dressed in purple silk (although she straightened herself out a bit by the look of it), he remembers last night's encounter.
“Who's the blond prat?” he asks as he climbs over her to get into bed again, because she makes no move to kick him out just yet and he doesn't feel like leaving.
“Her step-brother,” a familiar voice comes from the door and makes him jump, again, and Merlin's sure it looks hilarious, because he falls head first into the pillows, and also because he can hear Morgana stifle a laugh before she says: “Morning, Arthur, had a nice night?”
The blond prat swaggers over to the bed, no really he swaggers, and sits down on the edge next to Morgana, generously ignoring the state of the sheets.
“Not really, no,” he answers her question, and Merlin thinks his tone is surprisingly neutral for what he has to say next. “I broke up with Sophia.”
Morgana pats his knee. “Oh, Arthur, I'm sorry.”
Arthur directs a glance at Merlin, one of those that prickle at the back of the neck and along the spine, and then turns back to his sister to huff a short laugh.
“No, you're not. You hated her.”
Morgana breaks out into that warm smile that still startles Merlin, because Morgana's whole demeanour is so regal that one wouldn't think her capable of such warmth.
“True,” she admits, and then opens her arms to hug Arthur and although he looks like he thinks she's being far too sentimental, he lets her.
When she lets go again, he gets up to let his gaze wander pointedly over the bed and Morgana and Merlin.
“Take a shower. You reek of sex.”
Merlin suddenly longs for the ground under him to open up and swallow him.
*
Ealdor has never seemed that far away, and maybe that's because he has never wanted to go back there so badly.
Finally standing on the one and only platform in the midst of fields of barley and not much else, he takes the first free breath since hours.
*
Merlin spends almost the entirety of the next two months with the step-siblings, despite complaints from his mother and friends that they're never able to reach him.
Morgana and he still have sex occasionally and occasionally Arthur's still a prat, but mostly they are just good friends.
And really, Arthur isn't all that bad, especially after he saves Merlin's arse by finding the fault in one of his calculations prior to a very important presentation, and he is almost nice after Merlin dislodges a stray piece of biscuit from his throat before he can choke on it.
He still has a habit of looking at Merlin in that strange way that makes his skin crawl every now and then, and there's no doubt that there's little he enjoys more than teasing Merlin.
Morgana sometimes loses her temper with them, but mostly she just smiles fondly when Arthur calls him an idiot and Merlin refers to him as 'the prat' -- and that smile unsettles Merlin more than he'd like to admit.
Then again, Morgana and Arthur don't hold back with the bickering themselves, but all arguments aside, the siblings clearly are close -- they've both lost their mothers early and have grown up together under the care of Arthur's father, after Morgana's own father, who'd been a good friend of Uther Pendragon, died in a plane crash.
So there really is nothing dodgy about them obviously being a bit closer than real siblings, but when Morgana thanks Arthur for helping her out with a kiss to his lips -- that's nothing like the short pecks Merlin and his mother exchange --, or when Arthur distractedly runs a hand through her long, dark curls while they watch a DVD, all three squeezed onto the small couch together, Merlin still feels a bit uneasy.
*
“Merlin?”
His mother clearly isn't expecting him, but luckily she doesn't ask too many questions, swallows his excuse of needing to get away for a while, because she is a good mother, who knows when she has to push her child and when she should not.
*
It's Morgana's stupid idea.
Arthur's been tense all day. He's had lunch with his father, and while he never talks about it, Merlin knows from Morgana about how he's constantly trying to gain his father's approval and mostly fails.
Merlin's seen Arthur's father once, literally bumped into him as he struggled with the zip of his jacket while trudging down the stairs, and the glare from those hard eyes as he stammered his excuses is probably ingrained in his memory forever as one of the most frightening things he's ever seen.
He can hardly make out any traits of his father in Arthur, except maybe that certain air of authority.
All that authority doesn't help him with his sister though, and if Morgana decides that this night there will be Truth or Dare with the vodka on the rocks Merlin's preparing in the kitchen, it's going to happen. So it does.
“Your first time?” Arthur asks him, one glass of vodka and a few rather harmless questions into the game, and the omission is self-explanatory, 'first time' without further specification means the first time, and Merlin struggles a bit with himself, because this is something he hasn't told either of them about himself yet.
Morgana doesn't look too surprised, when Merlin mumbles something about Will and the barn behind old farmer Morris' house, which bothers him just a bit, but it's Arthur looking at him again that really unsettles him, and Merlin could swear that look is predatory if it weren't so laughable.
“Yours?” he asks Morgana and Arthur huffs, “Very original, Merlin,” but they both ignore it.
“He was two years younger and even less experienced than I,” she tells him, and something about all of this, the sudden quiet, a strange vibe in the air, gives Merlin a really bad feeling.
“We basically fumbled our way through it, and he came in a matter of seconds. Turns out, I really can beat him at everything.”
The garbled, indignant sound from Arthur pretty much confirms all of Merlin's suspicions and he feels a bit sick now indeed.
“He made up for it afterwards though,” Morgana adds with a smile for her step-brother -- and they're not blood-related, Merlin stresses for himself, but the queasiness won't go away.
He chooses 'dare' for his next turn, because he feels like he can't take much more truth tonight, and makes the mistake of underestimating Morgana and her devious ways.
“Kiss Arthur,” she orders without a moment's hesitation.
He should protest, Merlin thinks, and maybe it's the vodka or the images of Arthur and Morgana, sweating and rutting against each other in his head, but when he looks at Arthur still with that strange expression in his eyes and when his tongue darts out to lick his lips, it seems like the most logical thing in the world to push himself closer, slide over the bit of empty parquet floor between them, to cup Arthur's face with one shaking hand.
Once he's touched Arthur, once he's established contact, he realises that yes, he wants this, and bends forward to kiss him. Merlin presses his lips to his mouth and breathes in the scent so close to his skin hungrily.
Arthur parts his lips for him readily and Merlin takes it as a hint to move, so he does, tilts his head further for better access and before he really knows it, he's got one hand up Arthur's shirt, hot fingertips on even hotter skin, and is licking into his mouth.
Merlin sincerely has no idea how the siblings do it, how they both twist him around their little fingers so easily, how they find that secret way to stifle, to chain and gag his rationality, how they make him want and do things he's never even dreamt of.
*
His bed is a sanctuary.
It's still the same one that he got for his fourteenth birthday, when he was so excited to get something new, just for himself, that he never slept the last night in his old one.
Now he sleeps, because this, this is safe, safe and unsullied.
*
Morgana is not the only one who has bad ideas.
It's Merlin who suggests going out dancing on that Friday night and it's Arthur who vanishes into his room and comes back with a handful of pills he got from some guy called Edwin at university.
Merlin hesitates, doubts Arthur's definition of fun, but Morgana just tilts her head in that infuriating way that makes him feel like a child being scolded, and Arthur, well, Arthur's Arthur and doesn't stop bickering as long as it takes for Merlin to cave in and swallow one of the light blue ones.
They leave the house, and everything after that is loud and bright and utterly confusing.
He remembers a club, the ever-changing rhythm of the electronic tracks they play, heavy, deafening bass.
They drink, whiskey, because it's Arthur's choice this time, and then Morgana takes both their hands into hers and leads them onto the dance floor.
She pulls Merlin close, and he gives in, lets her melt against him, hips gyrating gently to the rhythm, while she looks over her shoulder.
And suddenly there's a solid warmth behind him, it's no feat to guess that it's Arthur who sneaks his hands around him to put them on Morgana's hips, while he breathes warm into Merlin's neck.
They dance, or what passes for dancing when they're really just rubbing their bodies against each other's.
Merlin feels great sandwiched between the two siblings; he couldn't imagine a place he'd rather be. Morgana kisses him, hot, open-mouthed kisses that leave him just as breathless as Arthur's mouth on his neck, sucking and biting, before he smooths his tongue over the marks, and he's pretty sure he'd just fall down if it weren't for the two bodies keeping him upright.
His clothes are soaked in no time, clinging to his skin, and it feels like he's on fire, but he can't get enough of this, rubs his painfully hard cock against Morgana's hipbone, while he feels Arthur's, equally intent, dig into his backside.
He buries a hand in Arthur's hair and pulls, twists his head so he can kiss his pouting lips, bite his lower lip and push his tongue inside, and then he gasps as Arthur pulls away to kiss his sister, watches them, sees the familiarity of their kiss and how their tongues slide and twist so easily.
More, it echoes in his head, more.
*
He wakes up in an empty house, and for the first time in what feels like days, his stomach feels fine and he has some cereal for breakfast.
It's strangely quiet.
*
“Let's go home.” It's Arthur who finally vocalises what they all are thinking.
Back at the flat they stumble into Arthur's room, struggle to get out of their soaked clothes to get on with whatever this is.
It's pretty obvious where it's all going, sort of inevitable at this point, but exhilaratingly new.
Merlin is sure he already came at least once, torn apart between Arthur working his hand between his and Morgana's body to squeeze his cock through his jeans and Morgana licking and nibbling on his sensitive ears, but he's been hard again for some time now and it's a relief to finally free himself from the confines of his trousers and pants.
Morgana looks beautiful naked, beautiful and otherworldly with her flawless skin almost shimmering white in the dim light, and still, it's Arthur who captivates Merlin, his well-defined muscles, the light cover of hair on his chest that runs out on its way down, only to reappear darker below his navel, and curl thick between his legs.
It's the first time Merlin's seen him completely naked like this, the first time Arthur has seen Merlin without his clothes, he remembers and blushes under Arthur's hot gaze that wanders over his body unashamedly, curiously, it's almost as if he can feel it touching him.
They'd probably have stood there staring forever, if it weren't for Morgana, who pushes Arthur down, makes him sit on his bed so she can straddle his lap, and then turns to extend a hand to Merlin.
He follows, like he always has since they first met, lets her guide him on his knees behind her.
She holds on to Arthur's shoulders as she cants her hips, making it easier for Merlin's hand to be guided between her legs next. By now he knows exactly what it is that she wants from him, so he slides a finger into her where she's wet and open for him, and then he adds another and a third.
He fucks Morgana with his fingers, while she kisses her brother beneath her, moans into his mouth when Merlin twists his hand, uses a thumb to stimulate the tiny nub that brings her such pleasure, and places bites and kisses on her shoulders, all the while his eyes are locked with Arthur's.
Soon, very soon, Morgana shudders, clenches around his fingers to hold them inside, draw them in deeper and then she throws her head back and comes, nonsensical words spilling from her lips.
It's the hottest thing Merlin's ever experienced.
Only he has to revoke that statement when Morgana, still breathing heavily, wraps a hand around Arthur's cock, and Arthur moans but also shakes his head and breathes out, “No,” and “Merlin.”
His blue eyes bore into Merlin's, and Merlin thinks yes, before Arthur can even ask: “Fuck me?”
Morgana doesn't seem to mind, she smiles in fact, takes Arthur's chin into her hand and presses a short, almost chaste kiss to his lips, before she climbs off his lap and makes space for Merlin.
Arthur grabs him impatiently, pulls him against him with a little too much force and their mouths crash together, teeth colliding. It's messy and a little painful, but it feels just right.
Merlin shifts, pushes himself between Arthur's strong thighs and now Arthur's erection presses against his flat stomach, invites him to wrap a hand around it and stroke, spread the moisture from the tip along the length.
“No,” Arthur hisses, breaks their kiss to press his nose against Merlin's cheek, pants heavily against his ear. “I want-- Fuck me, please.”
It's Morgana who procures lube and condoms and hands them to Merlin, then she urges Arthur to lie back further up on the bed, strokes his damp hair out of his face and places gentle kisses on his face and jaw; but it's Merlin who pushes a well-slicked finger into Arthur, makes him groan and press back, it's Merlin Arthur looks at from half-lidded eyes, biting his lip as Merlin stretches him, twists his finger until the tight ring of muscles relaxes enough to take two fingers, and then three, and it's the same, he's done this just a moment ago, but it's so different.
Arthur moans disappointedly, when he removes his fingers and Merlin sweats, struggles to hold back when he rolls the rubber over his cock and slicks himself, bites his lip and encircles the base tight with his thumb and forefinger as he guides himself into Arthur, because, fuck, Arthur's so tight and hot around him, moans wantonly as Merlin pushes into him, and this, all of this -- it's more than enough already.
Morgana looks at him as he stills, almost chokes on a moan, before he thinks it's safe and nods at her, she smiles, and Merlin draws back, just to plunge into Arthur again, deeper with every time.
And Arthur writhes under him, moves to accommodate Merlin, give him better access, while Morgana holds him, strokes him, as if he needs her protection (and that's bollocks, Merlin thinks, if anyone needs protection it's him).
Merlin thrusts, hard and with abandon, and apparently he does something right, because suddenly Arthur throws his head back and releases a strangled sound, arches his back, so Merlin does it again, and again, and then he takes Arthur's cock in his hand and pumps, since he knows that he can't keep this up much longer, not with the blood rushing loudly in his ears and his orgasm building already, fluttering in his chest.
But he's lucky, the moment he decides to just let go, to surrender, Arthur digs his nails into his arm, hard, and spills himself, coating his belly and Merlin's hand in pale streaks of come.
Merlin gladly follows him over, lets the heat wash over him, and collapses, falls forward, where he clings to Arthur until it's over and he regains sense of where his body ends and Arthur's begins, and the stickiness between them.
And Morgana, Morgana is still there, pressing soft feathery kisses to both their shoulders.
*
It's wrong, his brain says. Is not, his heart insists.
And Merlin?
Merlin doesn't know.
*
He wakes first the next morning, needs a moment before he is able to make sense of the heavy air around him and the arm across his shoulder, the hot, hard flesh jabbing into his back.
And then he remembers.
It's not easy to wriggle out from underneath Arthur's arm, he's shaky, afraid to wake someone, but Arthur just smacks his lips once, when Merlin's weight lifts from the mattress.
Morgana is still there too, asleep, her back pressed against Arthur's.
Merlin tiptoes out of the room, vomits in the bathroom as quietly as he can, dresses and then he runs.
He sits in the park for a few hours, listless, lost, unable to go home because he left his keys at the flat and he's too shell-shocked to go back there, maybe ever.
In the end he gets on a train that'll bring him back to Ealdor.
*
It's two long and confused days later that Merlin opens the door to find Arthur on his mother's front step, and he wants to close it again right away, he really does, because he knows by now that he can't trust himself around the siblings, that he shouldn't let him talk, but he can't even do that.
“How did you find me?” he wants to know.
Arthur doesn't answer right away, takes a deep breath instead.
“I searched through your stuff,” he finally admits and has the decency to look a bit embarrassed at least, “found the name Ealdor and then all I had to do was ask the neighbours.”
His mum is going to be thrilled about the gossip he caused, but somehow Merlin just feels a strange warm feeling spread in his chest.
“Look,” Arthur suddenly bursts out. “I don't know what you think this, um, what we did with you-- I mean, Morgana she doesn't really care, she just wants some fun. I--”
Arthur looks at him, eyes open, expression unguarded, a rare occurrence, and Merlin almost takes pity -- almost, because he really wants to hear this.
“I like you, Merlin,” he finally says, almost inaudible. It's clear that it's not easy for him to say it out loud. “Like you like you.”
“And Morgana?” he asks, mainly to stop himself from breaking out into that stupid, dopey grin that he knows is threatening to take over his face.
Arthur scoffs, and directs a very frail, careful smile at him. “She won't let me back in if I don't talk to you. Confess my big manly crush on you -- her words, not mine.”
And what is Merlin supposed to do? He's lost the fight against the smile, breaks out in a stupidly happy grin, and he already knows he's going to lose the one against Arthur as well.
For now, he takes a step back.
“Come on in,” he says and Arthur's answering smile is blinding.
Merlin can admit defeat if he has to.