slashknight shagfest fic
Title: Powderpuff Tourney
Author: shutupeccles
Fandom: Merlin. Therefore characters belong to BBC and Shine, not to me.
Pairing: mostly Arthur/Leon, also Arthur/Leon/Percival (alphabetical listings, not positional)
Rated: SEX Words: 5249
Warning: widespread cross-dressing - mostly male, reference to branding.
Summary: King Arthur reinstates the tradition of the Powderpuff Tourney for the very reason his father stopped it... ***Popping on a frock makes Leon and Arthur so horny for each other, they miss the tourney altogether***...
"If this Powderpuff Tourney is such a celebrated Camelot tradition, why have I never heard of it before?" Merlin asks as he helps Gwen into her armour, at Arthur's orders. Actually, the whole thing sounds like fun. Lady relatives and beloveds of Camelot's Knights don armour and knock each other about with blunted swords and wool-wrapped maces in a not-so-grand melee while Camelot's finest dress as women and cheer their champion on. Arthur began grinning like an idiot as he announced the date for this year's Powderpuff, and hasn't stopped since.
"Uther put a stop to it not long before you wandered along. The first year Arthur was set to participate, in fact. It was the greatest turn-out in history according to my father. Everyone wanted to see their Prince transformed into a Princess," Gwen chortles as she slides a padded mace into the allocated loop of her belt. "Arthur had given Morgana his Pendragon favour to wear and everything, yet he never made an appearance. Morgana won without him, of course. There were rumours of abductions and... other things, as always arise when odd things happen. But no-one ever discovered where he disappeared to, and Uther immediately put an end to the Powderpuff."
Merlin drapes three different coloured favours across his forearm so Gwen can make her selection. Participating Ladies are permitted to wear the colours of relatives as well as paramours. Gwen chooses Elyan's green ribbon for her right arm and Lancelot's orange braided with mourning black for her left.
"The red one's yours." Gwen swiftly ties Arthur's favour around Merlin's left arm. "By the order of the King, I hereby pronounce you his favourite powder puff. I've been told to put you in the stocks if you complain or refuse to wear it," she adds merrily. Merlin stops his grumbling protest. He didn't want Gwen knowing about that, no-one but Arthur is supposed to know about that. After a pause he continues complaining from where he left off.
"If I'm his favoured powder puff, why am I dressing you?"
"Tradition. The Knights have always dressed each other, so their appearance is a surprise for everyone." Gwen's joyful grin proves she can't wait to see them. Neither can Merlin.
|~~~|
Leon looks at the grass-green frock hanging from its hook, then over at Arthur's pale yellow.
"Care to swap?"
Arthur looks the gowns over. "They'll never fit. I'll be tripping over the skirt and everyone will see your knees."
Leon looks at the dresses again. Then he looks at Arthur and the way the paler shift accentuates his body. "You know your father dismantled this tradition because of... us."
By tradition members of the royal family and their noble assistant dressed separately to the other knights. Dressing a noblewoman was definitely a two-person job, at least. Thank goodness there are no corsets to bend Arthur into an un-naturally and surprisingly unattractive feminine shape this time. He’s perfect as is. On second thoughts - lack of corset bad, Very bad. Either way Leon is doomed, because six years ago they stood in a smaller room of the armoury than this to change...
|~~~|
Arthur clutched the central pole with both hands as Leon pulled the corset closed. "Guh," the prince declared and the strings loosened in Leon's hands as he developed an unanticipated hard-on. The reflection of Arthur's face in the polished shield hanging from the wall made the erection harder.
"Come on!" Arthur demanded, impatiently wiggling his bottom beneath the pale shift.
"Gi-uh... Don't."
"What?"
"Don't do that."
Arthur waggled his hips in deliberately enticing fashion "What, this?" He peered over his shoulder at Leon's stricken face, and his teasing grin fell off. "Oh."
Leon's hands abruptly got as far from Arthur's body as they could possibly get while remaining attached to Leon. He stepped away as Arthur let go of the pole and turned to face him.
"I don't remember telling you to stop dressing me."
"I think it would be best, if someone else, Sire," Leon pleaded.
"I disagree. ...Of course, if my lack of clothing disgusts you..." Arthur added to the stone floor in a falsely modest tone.
Leon snorted and Arthur smiled a small, teasing smile that matured into an invitation when he looked up at a particularly flirtatious angle. Such confident masculinity, how is Arthur somehow more of a man while wearing a petticoat? "Stop being such a woman and get that daft corset off." Hopefully that would help.
"I couldn't put it on!"
Leon cursed everything about this foolish tourney in a muttering voice as his fingers hurriedly removed the bone and fabric cage. Every touch heightened his arousal. Arthur's sound and squirm of satisfaction once he could breathe again made everything worse. Leon's arms disobeyed his brain and caught Arthur in an intimate embrace, his hands slid under the front of the loosened corset and his face rested against Arthur's shoulder in despair. He was bound for the gallows now. But he couldn't let go.
|~~~|
"Stop being such a woman Leon and pass me my gown."
Their hands touch and Arthur winks before sliding the finely woven fabric over his broad shoulders. Leon is flattered, aroused, and confused. "But Merlin..."
"Merlin and I have our own traditions. This one is ours." King Arthur of Camelot stands a breath away, inviting Leon to kiss him. "It's been a long time, but I haven't forgotten."
|~~~|
He couldn't decide what felt better: freedom from that blasted torture device disguised as an undergarment, or the presence of its living replacement. Yes he could.
Arthur leaned into the embrace, welcomed it as he slid first one arm from the corset and then the other so his arms could cross over Leon's. The head bowed in moral agony lifted from his shoulder and Leon began to form a question. Arthur answered it with a hesitant kiss. Then another, certain this time. His body pressed back as Leon’s pressed forward and then modesty ceased to exist.
Everything happened fast. Their mouths moved against each other eagerly. Hands released his torso and fell to his shift, lifting it to explore underneath. Arthur tilted his head back against Leon’s chest and gasped at the ceiling as his hard-on grew between Leon’s hands. It soon matched the one pressing and rubbing against his back. Then the shift fell to cover him again. No.
But it wasn’t over, as he feared. Leon bent behind him at the waist, bending them both forward and Arthur had to grab the pole to keep his balance. The back of his shift was raised this time and Leon’s hand moved between his legs, touching carefully at first, then stroking and manipulating rapidly as Arthur felt hairy thighs behind his. Fingers played gently behind his balls as though his most sensitive areas were the strings of a lute. The music thus evoked was erotic rather than lyrical.
“Need…” Leon panted desperately. Arthur could feel his body twist as he desperately looked for something.
“What?” Arthur asked. “Oh… bound to be something somewhere we can use.” They searched roughly, determined not to lose their momentum. Nothing. “Another room?”
“I’m not going out in public like this.”
Leon had a point. His sweaty, rumpled gown made him resemble a bearded Lady who’d been dragged through a fence backward. Apart from that, Arthur had been raking his hands through Leon’s curls (lords, they felt amazing as they caught in and around his fingers) and his flushed features and wild eyes shouted ‘SEX!’ in large, capital letters.
Arthur grabbed him and kissed him again. He wasn’t waiting. “Use spit.”
“Sire, we are elegant Ladies of the court. I am not spitting on your arsehole.” Leon suppressed his chuckle until the last syllable. Their amused smiles touched and became a joyous kiss.
“Then you aren’t fucking it.” Arthur said it softly without his lips entirely leaving Leon’s. Leon’s face retreated as he noisily filled his mouth with saliva. Arthur held out his hand to catch it, and added his own. His other hand helped lift Leon’s layers of women’s clothing. Leon’s hands clutched Arthur’s shoulders, his head lolled forward and his eyes closed as Arthur coated Leon’s cock with their combined spit. Arthur used his foot to clear the nearest bench of leather, cloth and other scraps used for polishing armour.
Leon raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Skirts up and on your back,” Arthur commanded.
Leon’s feet sat either side of the bench as he obediently got into position. Arthur filled his mouth with saliva again and dribbled it onto the tip of Leon’s cock, then decided to suck him off while he was there. Leon slapped Arthur’s thigh.
“What?”
“We have to get you ready too, Princess.”
|~~~|
“For some reason, I abhor Gwaine calling you Princess.” Leon nudges Arthur’s nose with his while running his hands up and down Arthur’s sides.
“So do I, for the same reason.”
Their lips touch.
|~~~|
Spit wasn’t going to be enough. It dried too fast on Leon’s cock and wouldn’t provide much protection for Arthur’s arse.
“Your lips had a shine to them before we began kissing.” They’d been slippery with a hint of mint too. Leon thought Arthur must be the most delicious kisser in every kingdom.
Arthur dove for his trousers which were crumpled on the floor beneath the blood-red gown he’d yet to put on. He returned triumphant with a tiny ornamental perfume box. Then he hesitated. It was Leon’s turn to ask what.
“It stings a little at first. Then everything it touched …wakes up.” Something must have woken in Arthur’s mind because his eyes gained a wicked aspect. He swiftly opened the hinged lid and swept a fingertip over the hard cream inside. It softened and then melted at his touch. “Hold my skirt,” his voice flowed in anticipation, sweeping Leon into his tide and he obeyed, lifting the hem to Arthur’s waist.
Leon could see everything as Arthur bent his knees and angled his spine to reach back. His eyes and mouth opened in startled arousal as he applied the perfume. Leon envied Arthur’s finger and then a second as he spread on more and eagerly opened himself. He could take no more and reached up to bring Arthur onto his lap so he could finger him too.
Arthur tipped back and hooked his ankles behind Leon’s back as he removed his fingers to lock both hands behind Leon’s neck. His knees fell wide and he rocked as they kissed and Leon felt the rousing sensation of mint as he smeared it in and around Arthur’s arsehole. Arthur broke their kiss to make small noises that would be pathetic under different circumstances. In this instance, each sound only served to increase Leon’s excitement. He began to lie back, carefully withdrawing his fingers. Arthur’s feet landed on the floor with a thud, taking his weight so he could lift - and sit. Leon held himself still and straight, although the minty zing of first contact caused him to curl slightly. He needed to rub the stuff off before the sting became a burn and the inside of Arthur Pendragon felt like the perfect place to do just that. Leon thrust up and the friction provided minimal relief while creating a greater need. He would have to move faster, push deeper and harder to remove the torturous ointment. So he did.
And then everything began to feel incredible.
Leon had been raised to believe ‘fuck’ was the most profane word but never understood why it was worse than any other. He knew now. ‘fuck’ was the sound their bodies made as Arthur bounced on top of Leon’s thrusting cock. Leon pushed up, Arthur fell back down, and the collision went ‘fuck’.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck.
FUCK!
Then Arthur’s ankles hooked under Leon’s armpits, tangling in skirt layers or flowing sleeves in the process, and he leaned back to grab the bench beneath Leon’s backside. Leon lifted his knees at a mild angle, curling his toes over the end of the bench and providing a low backrest as Arthur rode him like a hunting steed. He tried to keep his eyes open and observe every detail of Arthur’s exertions, particularly his face. One hand played with Arthur’s cock to the rhythm of their writhing bodies, and the other crept up to fit against a reddened cheek. His naturally expressive features were a marvel to behold and Leon lost himself to pleasuring the man on top of him.
Arthur’s startled exclamations became louder, his lower jaw dropped. Leon’s muscles tensed and slackened as Arthur’s did. They found release together. Four legs lost their strength and dangled so four feet landed gracelessly on the floor. Their hands languidly moved beneath their partner’s bodice, as though recording every sensation they’d shared on the other’s torso. The first kiss was written along each collarbone, the joint application of mint balm belonged between their lower ribs on the right hand side, their reciprocal climax from sternum to navel… Every incredible moment had to be cherished because this should never have happened. The situation was improbable, this morning they would have thought it impossible.
|~~~|
Every second counts. They dress themselves rapidly, haphazardly so they can partially undress each other again. Arthur loves the colour and sheen of this petticoat on Leon. The pale, feminine hue accentuates his masculinity. It feels enticing beneath Arthur’s hands. He’ll have to make Leon wear it next year, and every year after that until there’s not a thread of it left.
“Bend me over to fuck me this time.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” Leon teases. Arthur frowns. Merlin calls Arthur that in the bath and makes saucy comments about crowns. “No? I can’t call you Princess, not now.”
“Queen me,” Arthur refers both to a game where combatants move pieces of bone around a board and a knight’s code unknown outside the nobility. Leon queened Arthur six years ago and Arthur queens Merlin, not the other way round, so the title will remain suitably unique.
“Yes my Queen.” Leon’s voice is enough to make Arthur hard when he uses that tone.
Hands, tongues, and hips get busy. The final layer of female clothing stays on, making it easier to cover up exactly who is who, and whose what is where should someone catch them together.
|~~~|
“Arthur! Where on earth…!”
Luckily Arthur’s petticoat had fallen while he rode Leon’s cock, so Father couldn’t see that he was still on the saddle. Arthur swiftly flipped the skirt of Leon’s gown over his partner’s face, which thankfully could not be seen from the doorway, but every care must be taken to protect Leon’s identity. Hopefully Father would be too enraged to notice that the positions of their legs meant there was no way Arthur had been frolicking with a woman rather than attending the tourney.
“Who is that?” Father demanded in his most authoritative and accusatory tone. His voice stayed low so it wouldn’t carry to unwelcome ears. The comedy of the King’s bejeweled gown on his warrior’s frame did not dim the impact of his wrath.
“Father, I am culpable. Do not shame this noble…woman further.”
“Who is she? How could you be so foolish? That temptress will trap you into marriage over this scandal!”
“No I won’t. I’m already married.” Leon’s lie, adamantly uttered in a muffled falsetto almost made Arthur smile. He would have to store that in his memory to laugh over later. He could feel Leon suppressing a chuckle beneath him. It was dangerously pleasant.
“Did you know this when you…? Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know her husband? Wars have been started for less than this! Where is Sir Leon? Why didn’t he stop you committing this adulterous lunacy?”
“Sir Leon was called away. This woman brought an urgent message for him and…” Arthur knew his explanations were flimsy. “How goes the tourney?” The question served its purpose of drawing Father’s attention away from fornication, but only briefly.
“It’s finished. Morgana won. Get out of that woman, out of that petticoat, and out of this armoury. You will both wait outside my private chamber until I have changed, or I will have you both hanged.”
“Father, surely…”
“Surely what, Arthur?” Father came closer to glare. “Do you know the penalty for adultery? Hanging will be a merciful alternative. Do not tarry. Who is your husband?” Father asked abruptly, startling both Arthur and Leon.
Leon’s erection had already withered, only his knob prevented it falling from Arthur’s arse before now. Its exodus added and extra element of horror to the situation. Is that cum leaking…?
“I demand the name of your husband!”
“Leon, of…”
Father interrupted the muffled falsetto to express disappointment in his son. “A noblewoman brings a message to her husband, one of your peers, and you - you!” Father pointed dramatically at the covered face of the disgraced Lady. The gesture lost impact when the angry hand was clothed in pink silk rather than dark leather.
“I consented.”
“She consented,” Arthur hoped to put an end to Leon’s wavering falsetto before it ensured they were branded, gelded, and traded as slaves. “May we please get dressed?”
Father nodded curtly, his wig jiggling comically, and left them to it.
|~~~|
Leon pushes Arthur’s skirt up until it bunches above his hips. “I should fling it high enough to cover your head and fall over your face.” He bends to carefully graze the back of Arthur’s neck with his bearded chin while one hand reaches between open thighs to juggle Arthur’s balls. “Better yet, once you’re open for me you can bend over and hold your ankles so the silk falls off to pool around your wrists as I fuck you.”
The petticoats and gowns provide a modest façade. Arthur is King now and if they were truly worried about getting caught, he’d choose to do this in a room with a lock. Almost, if not every citizen of Camelot is making their way to the large open field, or is already there to catch sight of their King dressed as a Queen.
Uther’s hypocritical reaction to Arthur’s affair with Leon’s imaginary wife adds excitement to their precarious situation. Leon comments on it.
“Why do you think I reinstated the tradition?" Arthur asks with a suggestive smirk over his left shoulder. “Get me with child and your heir can have the throne, without war or bloodshed. You have my word.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Arthur twists and gasps pleasurably as Leon probes him with mint-balm coated fingers. “Mh-orh, you always do. Oh-hoah yes-s.”
|~~~|
Leon entered Uther’s private chamber with Arthur. Uther dropped the object in his hand onto his table and examined Leon with an eyebrow raised in appraisal.
“Where is your wife?” the King asked.
Leon gave the first answer that popped into his head. “Dead your Majesty.”
“How?”
“Riding to tell me of what occurred, she fell from her horse.”
“I was unaware you were married before today.”
“A hasty marriage arranged by her family for some perceived insult. My family is as yet unaware. I was not fond of her, or she of me. I seek no recompense. The woman was a harlot in search of a title. Your son is her victim, just as I was.”
“How convenient,” Uther said with a piercing gaze aimed at Arthur.
“Hardly that your Majesty.” Leon stopped talking when the King’s scrutiny changed direction to point at him.
“What colour was your gown today, Sir Leon? And why did your wife not take the field as your champion?”
Leon looked to Arthur for assistance. Arthur’s alarmed and wide-eyed silence did nothing to help. Leon looked at his feet. Surely Uther required no further evidence.
“Forgive me,” Leon said with genuine humility. He did not say it to Uther. A finger stroked his thumb and Leon caught it. Arthur’s hand settled in place as they linked fingers.
“Me too.”
|~~~|
Arthur presses both palms flat against the wall and tries to keep still as Leon pushes into him for the first time in six years. Memories combine, making this experience more thrilling than the other because he feels it all again. This feeling of completion that accompanies the sensation of fullness cannot be imitated. Arthur’s tried a number of objects, never Merlin. His hips tilt back and forth, encouraging Leon to move faster. Unfortunately he gets the timing wrong and Leon slips out with an impatient grunt. Arthur’s petticoat slips over his backside. He hastily lifts it, higher than it was. Leon pauses. A hand covers the five-pointed star burned into the small of Arthur’s back, a symbol that Merlin born and raised in another kingdom does not know the meaning of. Leon presses his mouth to skin thus marked for life.
|~~~|
They had been left alone in an antechamber to ponder their fate while Father considered punishment options.
“Surely he would not geld you,” Leon tried to soothe Arthur’s distress.
“If he had a wife or an illegitimate heir, perhaps, he would,” Arthur conceded.
Pause.
“He will certainly geld me,” Leon despaired.
“That would be a shame. I was hoping to make this part of the annual event. Not getting caught, of course.”
“You won’t be a eunuch sent to desert lands, guarding some foreigner’s harem from horny manservants - or each other. So wish your next fellow luck.”
It was uncharacteristic of Leon to break Camelot’s rules, yet he’d done so. For me, no less! “Of course, if Father does intend to geld you, this would be the last opportunity to…”
“You can’t be serious.” Leon’s incredibly incredulous expression solidified Arthur’s determination, among other things.
“I am desperately serious.”
So Leon fucked him again. They didn’t bother hiding behind a curtain or anything like that, just did it against a chair. It was quick, vigorous, exciting, and intensely satisfying. They’d already been caught and knowing they would probably be discovered made this second time outstanding.
Although…
Being caught doing it while both wearing frocks added an element of delicious wickedness to the whole affair.
Arthur discovered he had a ‘kink’. He mentioned this breakthrough to Leon, once they were again covered in disappointingly masculine clothes.
“Me too,” Leon admitted.
Good thing they were in boring male clothing because Leon’s sex-wild eyes and hair made Arthur want to lock them together in a room and fuck for a week. Perhaps a month…
They’d thought they’d regained their composure when Father returned, but apparently not.
“Again! You’re about to punished for immoral behaviour and you did it again?”
Father had them branded. Not on their chest or neck as was typical, due to their youth and nobility, and Father’s hope that this foolishness would end with the punishment. The red-hot metal was pressed directly above their tailbones instead. Father did it himself to conceal the humiliating truth from the kingdom and made them wear dresses until the wounds healed; telling the court this last was penance for a juvenile prank.
These penalties were more like rewards. Arthur and Leon would pass each other in gowns simple or extravagant, lust-fire would burn in their eyes and they would immediately find somewhere to fuck. One incredible time, Leon held Arthur’s layered skirts high so he could watch where they joined and gave a commentary on the way Arthur’s full balls and droopy dick moved as he rode Leon at different paces. Considering the many alcoves, stables, wagons, haystacks, and other places they sucked, tugged, and otherwise got each other off without being seen, it came as a complete shock when Father walked in on them in Arthur’s chamber.
“It’s the Lady’s clothing that began all this, isn’t it?” He asked wearily after cursing with his eyes covered as they made themselves presentable.
Arthur and Leon nodded mutely, apologetically. They simply couldn’t help it. One glimpse of the other in feminine attire and…
“Then clearly I’ve been punished more for your actions than you have. The tradition of the Powderpuff Tourney is hereby discontinued. If either of you so much as touches something remotely feminine I shall inflict the full penalty - is that clear?”
“Yes Father.”
Leon stood in appalled silence.
“I shouldn’t give that gown back to Morgana if I were you Arthur.”
“No Father. Um, what of the others?”
Father stared without moving for an uncomfortably long time.
“I’ll buy her some new ones,” Arthur insisted in an attempt to end the horror.
“Yes, do that. Make it an apology for missing her tourney victory. Never, never do anything like this again,” Father commanded solemnly. He added stern hand gestures and a glower for extra emphasis before leaving the room.
“Well… That’s that then.” Arthur was incapable of expressing his disappointment beyond that simple statement.
“At least, I’ll always have a burn on my bum, reminding me of my remarkable horny Princess.” Leon said it with an irrepressible chuckle. They couldn’t believe he’d managed to escape with his life.
“I’d kiss you for that, if it wouldn’t see you hanged.”
“Thank you Sire.”
And that had been the end of that.
|~~~|
Leon pushes into Arthur again. His return is quick and vigorous after a few languid strokes. Their affair had occurred years ago and only lasted a matter of days but his body remembers what to do, how to ensure optimum satisfaction for each. He pushes Arthur’s silk shift higher. Arthur bends lower. Leon caresses the curved back with his hands and then his beard. Arthur shivers as he always did when Leon’s stubble grazed his skin. Leon makes a sound of incoherent pleasure against his Queen’s back.
Quickly, quickly, he’s going to come…
“Your Majesty! Oh, um…” Percival stammers as Leon hides Arthur’s face. “I was told,” Percival clears his throat, “King Arthur might still, be here, clearly not.”
“This better be important Percival!”
Percival’s eyes widen and he looks in disbelief at the figure bent in front of Leon. Silence looms. Leon taps Arthur’s thigh, prompting him to say something to make this more amusing and less dreadful. Actually, the sight of Percival in his splendid amethyst gown is already making this less dreadful as Arthur unbends slightly and uncovers his head. The movement makes Leon moan reflexively. Arthur reaches out to steady himself with that delicious ‘guh’ noise that set them on this path six years ago. Leon comes. Percival’s eyes widen further, lust replacing disbelief.
Arthur looks over his shoulder at Leon, mischief bright in his eyes.
“Lady Percival, would you like to fuck your King?” Leon politely extends this jovial invitation to join them. Arthur’s expression lets the younger knight know the offer is genuine. Percival takes two eager steps forward.
|~~~|
Arthur kneels on the low table, on all fours. Leon is in front and reclining underneath him so he can see Arthur’s face up close while the largest man either has ever met fills him with cock.
“Huge,” Arthur declares in an awed whisper.
“What a surprise,” Leon mocks him.
Arthur can’t retaliate. Percival knocks the breath out of him with every movement. Leon clasps Arthur’s hair and brings his face forward so their noses touch.
“You’re loving it, aren’t you?” Leon asks.
Lord yeah. A gasp and spinal arch will have to be answer enough. He must be about to split in half but he doesn’t care.
“New annual tradition?” Leon asks against Arthur’s mouth.
“Ghmm. Yes, guh. Yes!”
|~~~|
Best tradition ever!
Percival holds to top of Arthur’s thighs, Leon holds Arthur’s shoulders, and Percival can see the intensity of their connection through Leon’s eyes.
“Fuck him Percival, fuck him harder. He won’t break, will you Arthur?”
“Huaoh! Hih-hih-hih-hih-hohh!” is all Arthur says as Percival follows Leon’s orders.
The movement of Arthur’s spine resembles a bucking horse, only slower and deliberate. The noises he makes, the feel, smell, and taste of him are intoxicating. No wonder Merlin and Guinevere smile all the time. Holy shit!
|~~~|
Leon is mesmerised by Arthur’s face, by the way his bum is briefly visible over one shoulder, by the sounds of Percival’s thighs hitting him, by how much he’s enjoying watching Leon watching him get fucked by an even bigger bloke in an even flouncier gown.
This can only happen once a year. Not because of fidelity, they’re all nobles and the unspoken laws say they can fuck who they want - as long as neither partner is married. But everything about this is wicked, intense, easily de-humanising. Too much and they will become depraved. The promise of once a year is sufficient.
“Come my Queen,” Leon breathes the words into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur does, quietly. His bodily reaction however brings Percival to his knees.
“Every year,” Arthur pants with a devilishly satisfied smile. “By order of the King… and your Queen.”
|~~~|
The Great Hall is full of noblewomen dressed as Lords and noblemen dressed as Ladies. Never has the citadel been filled with such a joyous air. The victor of this year’s Powderpuff Tourney receives her trophy and a passionate kiss from her magnificently dressed husband.
“You weren’t at the tourney.” Merlin lets everyone see that he is clearly ticked as he drops a goblet in front of Arthur. “And you aren’t wearing a dress.”
“You aren’t wearing my favour, and therefore I have been rejected by my nominated champion. As I don’t have a champion I am not required to wear a dress or attend the tourney.”
“By the looks of you you’ve been fucking all day instead.” Merlin knows what sexed-up Arthur looks like, from any direction.
“Traditions must be upheld.”
“Must they,” Merlin replies snidely.
“This one, yes.” Arthur’s sombre response is directed at the empty goblet twirling idly between his fingers.
“Does this tradition have something to with why a recently re-instated tradition was disposed of in the first place?” Merlin asks carefully.
Arthur rewards him with a proud smile. Merlin feels like he truly is Arthur’ champion and wishes he’d worn the silly favour now. “It has everything to do with it, Merlin, with the double benefit of separating my reign as King from my father’s. What occurred on this day flies in the face of one of Camelot’s stupidest and cruellest laws, a law I intend to publicly revoke. Every year I intend to celebrate in the same way. People have been wrongly ostracised for following instincts that accidentally lead them into trouble. No more.”
“By fucking sorcerers?” Merlin asks in confusion. He hopes Arthur refers to lifting the ban on magic. Although, telling Arthur he’s been fucking a sorcerer a lot more frequently than one day a year might make things awkward for a while. Particularly if Arthur’s facial expression is anything to go by.
“Sorcery shall remain under ban until I can be certain it is only individuals that are malicious, not magic itself.”
“Then what rubbish are you sprouting on about…?”
Arthur pulls Merlin close, practically onto his lap and murmurs into his ear. It’s a long story, but one Merlin didn’t expect to hear. He glances at Sir Leon from time to time throughout the tale. Merlin would never have picked Arthur and Leon for the type to… No wonder Arthur always says no when Merlin suggests mixing things up a bit.
Merlin waits until they’re alone before kissing Arthur.
“So I’m forgiven, am I?”
“Not entirely, not yet - maybe next year, if you let me watch.”
Author: shutupeccles
Fandom: Merlin. Therefore characters belong to BBC and Shine, not to me.
Pairing: mostly Arthur/Leon, also Arthur/Leon/Percival (alphabetical listings, not positional)
Rated: SEX Words: 5249
Warning: widespread cross-dressing - mostly male, reference to branding.
Summary: King Arthur reinstates the tradition of the Powderpuff Tourney for the very reason his father stopped it... ***Popping on a frock makes Leon and Arthur so horny for each other, they miss the tourney altogether***...
"If this Powderpuff Tourney is such a celebrated Camelot tradition, why have I never heard of it before?" Merlin asks as he helps Gwen into her armour, at Arthur's orders. Actually, the whole thing sounds like fun. Lady relatives and beloveds of Camelot's Knights don armour and knock each other about with blunted swords and wool-wrapped maces in a not-so-grand melee while Camelot's finest dress as women and cheer their champion on. Arthur began grinning like an idiot as he announced the date for this year's Powderpuff, and hasn't stopped since.
"Uther put a stop to it not long before you wandered along. The first year Arthur was set to participate, in fact. It was the greatest turn-out in history according to my father. Everyone wanted to see their Prince transformed into a Princess," Gwen chortles as she slides a padded mace into the allocated loop of her belt. "Arthur had given Morgana his Pendragon favour to wear and everything, yet he never made an appearance. Morgana won without him, of course. There were rumours of abductions and... other things, as always arise when odd things happen. But no-one ever discovered where he disappeared to, and Uther immediately put an end to the Powderpuff."
Merlin drapes three different coloured favours across his forearm so Gwen can make her selection. Participating Ladies are permitted to wear the colours of relatives as well as paramours. Gwen chooses Elyan's green ribbon for her right arm and Lancelot's orange braided with mourning black for her left.
"The red one's yours." Gwen swiftly ties Arthur's favour around Merlin's left arm. "By the order of the King, I hereby pronounce you his favourite powder puff. I've been told to put you in the stocks if you complain or refuse to wear it," she adds merrily. Merlin stops his grumbling protest. He didn't want Gwen knowing about that, no-one but Arthur is supposed to know about that. After a pause he continues complaining from where he left off.
"If I'm his favoured powder puff, why am I dressing you?"
"Tradition. The Knights have always dressed each other, so their appearance is a surprise for everyone." Gwen's joyful grin proves she can't wait to see them. Neither can Merlin.
|~~~|
Leon looks at the grass-green frock hanging from its hook, then over at Arthur's pale yellow.
"Care to swap?"
Arthur looks the gowns over. "They'll never fit. I'll be tripping over the skirt and everyone will see your knees."
Leon looks at the dresses again. Then he looks at Arthur and the way the paler shift accentuates his body. "You know your father dismantled this tradition because of... us."
By tradition members of the royal family and their noble assistant dressed separately to the other knights. Dressing a noblewoman was definitely a two-person job, at least. Thank goodness there are no corsets to bend Arthur into an un-naturally and surprisingly unattractive feminine shape this time. He’s perfect as is. On second thoughts - lack of corset bad, Very bad. Either way Leon is doomed, because six years ago they stood in a smaller room of the armoury than this to change...
|~~~|
Arthur clutched the central pole with both hands as Leon pulled the corset closed. "Guh," the prince declared and the strings loosened in Leon's hands as he developed an unanticipated hard-on. The reflection of Arthur's face in the polished shield hanging from the wall made the erection harder.
"Come on!" Arthur demanded, impatiently wiggling his bottom beneath the pale shift.
"Gi-uh... Don't."
"What?"
"Don't do that."
Arthur waggled his hips in deliberately enticing fashion "What, this?" He peered over his shoulder at Leon's stricken face, and his teasing grin fell off. "Oh."
Leon's hands abruptly got as far from Arthur's body as they could possibly get while remaining attached to Leon. He stepped away as Arthur let go of the pole and turned to face him.
"I don't remember telling you to stop dressing me."
"I think it would be best, if someone else, Sire," Leon pleaded.
"I disagree. ...Of course, if my lack of clothing disgusts you..." Arthur added to the stone floor in a falsely modest tone.
Leon snorted and Arthur smiled a small, teasing smile that matured into an invitation when he looked up at a particularly flirtatious angle. Such confident masculinity, how is Arthur somehow more of a man while wearing a petticoat? "Stop being such a woman and get that daft corset off." Hopefully that would help.
"I couldn't put it on!"
Leon cursed everything about this foolish tourney in a muttering voice as his fingers hurriedly removed the bone and fabric cage. Every touch heightened his arousal. Arthur's sound and squirm of satisfaction once he could breathe again made everything worse. Leon's arms disobeyed his brain and caught Arthur in an intimate embrace, his hands slid under the front of the loosened corset and his face rested against Arthur's shoulder in despair. He was bound for the gallows now. But he couldn't let go.
|~~~|
"Stop being such a woman Leon and pass me my gown."
Their hands touch and Arthur winks before sliding the finely woven fabric over his broad shoulders. Leon is flattered, aroused, and confused. "But Merlin..."
"Merlin and I have our own traditions. This one is ours." King Arthur of Camelot stands a breath away, inviting Leon to kiss him. "It's been a long time, but I haven't forgotten."
|~~~|
He couldn't decide what felt better: freedom from that blasted torture device disguised as an undergarment, or the presence of its living replacement. Yes he could.
Arthur leaned into the embrace, welcomed it as he slid first one arm from the corset and then the other so his arms could cross over Leon's. The head bowed in moral agony lifted from his shoulder and Leon began to form a question. Arthur answered it with a hesitant kiss. Then another, certain this time. His body pressed back as Leon’s pressed forward and then modesty ceased to exist.
Everything happened fast. Their mouths moved against each other eagerly. Hands released his torso and fell to his shift, lifting it to explore underneath. Arthur tilted his head back against Leon’s chest and gasped at the ceiling as his hard-on grew between Leon’s hands. It soon matched the one pressing and rubbing against his back. Then the shift fell to cover him again. No.
But it wasn’t over, as he feared. Leon bent behind him at the waist, bending them both forward and Arthur had to grab the pole to keep his balance. The back of his shift was raised this time and Leon’s hand moved between his legs, touching carefully at first, then stroking and manipulating rapidly as Arthur felt hairy thighs behind his. Fingers played gently behind his balls as though his most sensitive areas were the strings of a lute. The music thus evoked was erotic rather than lyrical.
“Need…” Leon panted desperately. Arthur could feel his body twist as he desperately looked for something.
“What?” Arthur asked. “Oh… bound to be something somewhere we can use.” They searched roughly, determined not to lose their momentum. Nothing. “Another room?”
“I’m not going out in public like this.”
Leon had a point. His sweaty, rumpled gown made him resemble a bearded Lady who’d been dragged through a fence backward. Apart from that, Arthur had been raking his hands through Leon’s curls (lords, they felt amazing as they caught in and around his fingers) and his flushed features and wild eyes shouted ‘SEX!’ in large, capital letters.
Arthur grabbed him and kissed him again. He wasn’t waiting. “Use spit.”
“Sire, we are elegant Ladies of the court. I am not spitting on your arsehole.” Leon suppressed his chuckle until the last syllable. Their amused smiles touched and became a joyous kiss.
“Then you aren’t fucking it.” Arthur said it softly without his lips entirely leaving Leon’s. Leon’s face retreated as he noisily filled his mouth with saliva. Arthur held out his hand to catch it, and added his own. His other hand helped lift Leon’s layers of women’s clothing. Leon’s hands clutched Arthur’s shoulders, his head lolled forward and his eyes closed as Arthur coated Leon’s cock with their combined spit. Arthur used his foot to clear the nearest bench of leather, cloth and other scraps used for polishing armour.
Leon raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Skirts up and on your back,” Arthur commanded.
Leon’s feet sat either side of the bench as he obediently got into position. Arthur filled his mouth with saliva again and dribbled it onto the tip of Leon’s cock, then decided to suck him off while he was there. Leon slapped Arthur’s thigh.
“What?”
“We have to get you ready too, Princess.”
|~~~|
“For some reason, I abhor Gwaine calling you Princess.” Leon nudges Arthur’s nose with his while running his hands up and down Arthur’s sides.
“So do I, for the same reason.”
Their lips touch.
|~~~|
Spit wasn’t going to be enough. It dried too fast on Leon’s cock and wouldn’t provide much protection for Arthur’s arse.
“Your lips had a shine to them before we began kissing.” They’d been slippery with a hint of mint too. Leon thought Arthur must be the most delicious kisser in every kingdom.
Arthur dove for his trousers which were crumpled on the floor beneath the blood-red gown he’d yet to put on. He returned triumphant with a tiny ornamental perfume box. Then he hesitated. It was Leon’s turn to ask what.
“It stings a little at first. Then everything it touched …wakes up.” Something must have woken in Arthur’s mind because his eyes gained a wicked aspect. He swiftly opened the hinged lid and swept a fingertip over the hard cream inside. It softened and then melted at his touch. “Hold my skirt,” his voice flowed in anticipation, sweeping Leon into his tide and he obeyed, lifting the hem to Arthur’s waist.
Leon could see everything as Arthur bent his knees and angled his spine to reach back. His eyes and mouth opened in startled arousal as he applied the perfume. Leon envied Arthur’s finger and then a second as he spread on more and eagerly opened himself. He could take no more and reached up to bring Arthur onto his lap so he could finger him too.
Arthur tipped back and hooked his ankles behind Leon’s back as he removed his fingers to lock both hands behind Leon’s neck. His knees fell wide and he rocked as they kissed and Leon felt the rousing sensation of mint as he smeared it in and around Arthur’s arsehole. Arthur broke their kiss to make small noises that would be pathetic under different circumstances. In this instance, each sound only served to increase Leon’s excitement. He began to lie back, carefully withdrawing his fingers. Arthur’s feet landed on the floor with a thud, taking his weight so he could lift - and sit. Leon held himself still and straight, although the minty zing of first contact caused him to curl slightly. He needed to rub the stuff off before the sting became a burn and the inside of Arthur Pendragon felt like the perfect place to do just that. Leon thrust up and the friction provided minimal relief while creating a greater need. He would have to move faster, push deeper and harder to remove the torturous ointment. So he did.
And then everything began to feel incredible.
Leon had been raised to believe ‘fuck’ was the most profane word but never understood why it was worse than any other. He knew now. ‘fuck’ was the sound their bodies made as Arthur bounced on top of Leon’s thrusting cock. Leon pushed up, Arthur fell back down, and the collision went ‘fuck’.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck, fuck, fuck fuck. Fuck.
FUCK!
Then Arthur’s ankles hooked under Leon’s armpits, tangling in skirt layers or flowing sleeves in the process, and he leaned back to grab the bench beneath Leon’s backside. Leon lifted his knees at a mild angle, curling his toes over the end of the bench and providing a low backrest as Arthur rode him like a hunting steed. He tried to keep his eyes open and observe every detail of Arthur’s exertions, particularly his face. One hand played with Arthur’s cock to the rhythm of their writhing bodies, and the other crept up to fit against a reddened cheek. His naturally expressive features were a marvel to behold and Leon lost himself to pleasuring the man on top of him.
Arthur’s startled exclamations became louder, his lower jaw dropped. Leon’s muscles tensed and slackened as Arthur’s did. They found release together. Four legs lost their strength and dangled so four feet landed gracelessly on the floor. Their hands languidly moved beneath their partner’s bodice, as though recording every sensation they’d shared on the other’s torso. The first kiss was written along each collarbone, the joint application of mint balm belonged between their lower ribs on the right hand side, their reciprocal climax from sternum to navel… Every incredible moment had to be cherished because this should never have happened. The situation was improbable, this morning they would have thought it impossible.
|~~~|
Every second counts. They dress themselves rapidly, haphazardly so they can partially undress each other again. Arthur loves the colour and sheen of this petticoat on Leon. The pale, feminine hue accentuates his masculinity. It feels enticing beneath Arthur’s hands. He’ll have to make Leon wear it next year, and every year after that until there’s not a thread of it left.
“Bend me over to fuck me this time.”
“Yes, your Majesty,” Leon teases. Arthur frowns. Merlin calls Arthur that in the bath and makes saucy comments about crowns. “No? I can’t call you Princess, not now.”
“Queen me,” Arthur refers both to a game where combatants move pieces of bone around a board and a knight’s code unknown outside the nobility. Leon queened Arthur six years ago and Arthur queens Merlin, not the other way round, so the title will remain suitably unique.
“Yes my Queen.” Leon’s voice is enough to make Arthur hard when he uses that tone.
Hands, tongues, and hips get busy. The final layer of female clothing stays on, making it easier to cover up exactly who is who, and whose what is where should someone catch them together.
|~~~|
“Arthur! Where on earth…!”
Luckily Arthur’s petticoat had fallen while he rode Leon’s cock, so Father couldn’t see that he was still on the saddle. Arthur swiftly flipped the skirt of Leon’s gown over his partner’s face, which thankfully could not be seen from the doorway, but every care must be taken to protect Leon’s identity. Hopefully Father would be too enraged to notice that the positions of their legs meant there was no way Arthur had been frolicking with a woman rather than attending the tourney.
“Who is that?” Father demanded in his most authoritative and accusatory tone. His voice stayed low so it wouldn’t carry to unwelcome ears. The comedy of the King’s bejeweled gown on his warrior’s frame did not dim the impact of his wrath.
“Father, I am culpable. Do not shame this noble…woman further.”
“Who is she? How could you be so foolish? That temptress will trap you into marriage over this scandal!”
“No I won’t. I’m already married.” Leon’s lie, adamantly uttered in a muffled falsetto almost made Arthur smile. He would have to store that in his memory to laugh over later. He could feel Leon suppressing a chuckle beneath him. It was dangerously pleasant.
“Did you know this when you…? Arthur?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know her husband? Wars have been started for less than this! Where is Sir Leon? Why didn’t he stop you committing this adulterous lunacy?”
“Sir Leon was called away. This woman brought an urgent message for him and…” Arthur knew his explanations were flimsy. “How goes the tourney?” The question served its purpose of drawing Father’s attention away from fornication, but only briefly.
“It’s finished. Morgana won. Get out of that woman, out of that petticoat, and out of this armoury. You will both wait outside my private chamber until I have changed, or I will have you both hanged.”
“Father, surely…”
“Surely what, Arthur?” Father came closer to glare. “Do you know the penalty for adultery? Hanging will be a merciful alternative. Do not tarry. Who is your husband?” Father asked abruptly, startling both Arthur and Leon.
Leon’s erection had already withered, only his knob prevented it falling from Arthur’s arse before now. Its exodus added and extra element of horror to the situation. Is that cum leaking…?
“I demand the name of your husband!”
“Leon, of…”
Father interrupted the muffled falsetto to express disappointment in his son. “A noblewoman brings a message to her husband, one of your peers, and you - you!” Father pointed dramatically at the covered face of the disgraced Lady. The gesture lost impact when the angry hand was clothed in pink silk rather than dark leather.
“I consented.”
“She consented,” Arthur hoped to put an end to Leon’s wavering falsetto before it ensured they were branded, gelded, and traded as slaves. “May we please get dressed?”
Father nodded curtly, his wig jiggling comically, and left them to it.
|~~~|
Leon pushes Arthur’s skirt up until it bunches above his hips. “I should fling it high enough to cover your head and fall over your face.” He bends to carefully graze the back of Arthur’s neck with his bearded chin while one hand reaches between open thighs to juggle Arthur’s balls. “Better yet, once you’re open for me you can bend over and hold your ankles so the silk falls off to pool around your wrists as I fuck you.”
The petticoats and gowns provide a modest façade. Arthur is King now and if they were truly worried about getting caught, he’d choose to do this in a room with a lock. Almost, if not every citizen of Camelot is making their way to the large open field, or is already there to catch sight of their King dressed as a Queen.
Uther’s hypocritical reaction to Arthur’s affair with Leon’s imaginary wife adds excitement to their precarious situation. Leon comments on it.
“Why do you think I reinstated the tradition?" Arthur asks with a suggestive smirk over his left shoulder. “Get me with child and your heir can have the throne, without war or bloodshed. You have my word.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Arthur twists and gasps pleasurably as Leon probes him with mint-balm coated fingers. “Mh-orh, you always do. Oh-hoah yes-s.”
|~~~|
Leon entered Uther’s private chamber with Arthur. Uther dropped the object in his hand onto his table and examined Leon with an eyebrow raised in appraisal.
“Where is your wife?” the King asked.
Leon gave the first answer that popped into his head. “Dead your Majesty.”
“How?”
“Riding to tell me of what occurred, she fell from her horse.”
“I was unaware you were married before today.”
“A hasty marriage arranged by her family for some perceived insult. My family is as yet unaware. I was not fond of her, or she of me. I seek no recompense. The woman was a harlot in search of a title. Your son is her victim, just as I was.”
“How convenient,” Uther said with a piercing gaze aimed at Arthur.
“Hardly that your Majesty.” Leon stopped talking when the King’s scrutiny changed direction to point at him.
“What colour was your gown today, Sir Leon? And why did your wife not take the field as your champion?”
Leon looked to Arthur for assistance. Arthur’s alarmed and wide-eyed silence did nothing to help. Leon looked at his feet. Surely Uther required no further evidence.
“Forgive me,” Leon said with genuine humility. He did not say it to Uther. A finger stroked his thumb and Leon caught it. Arthur’s hand settled in place as they linked fingers.
“Me too.”
|~~~|
Arthur presses both palms flat against the wall and tries to keep still as Leon pushes into him for the first time in six years. Memories combine, making this experience more thrilling than the other because he feels it all again. This feeling of completion that accompanies the sensation of fullness cannot be imitated. Arthur’s tried a number of objects, never Merlin. His hips tilt back and forth, encouraging Leon to move faster. Unfortunately he gets the timing wrong and Leon slips out with an impatient grunt. Arthur’s petticoat slips over his backside. He hastily lifts it, higher than it was. Leon pauses. A hand covers the five-pointed star burned into the small of Arthur’s back, a symbol that Merlin born and raised in another kingdom does not know the meaning of. Leon presses his mouth to skin thus marked for life.
|~~~|
They had been left alone in an antechamber to ponder their fate while Father considered punishment options.
“Surely he would not geld you,” Leon tried to soothe Arthur’s distress.
“If he had a wife or an illegitimate heir, perhaps, he would,” Arthur conceded.
Pause.
“He will certainly geld me,” Leon despaired.
“That would be a shame. I was hoping to make this part of the annual event. Not getting caught, of course.”
“You won’t be a eunuch sent to desert lands, guarding some foreigner’s harem from horny manservants - or each other. So wish your next fellow luck.”
It was uncharacteristic of Leon to break Camelot’s rules, yet he’d done so. For me, no less! “Of course, if Father does intend to geld you, this would be the last opportunity to…”
“You can’t be serious.” Leon’s incredibly incredulous expression solidified Arthur’s determination, among other things.
“I am desperately serious.”
So Leon fucked him again. They didn’t bother hiding behind a curtain or anything like that, just did it against a chair. It was quick, vigorous, exciting, and intensely satisfying. They’d already been caught and knowing they would probably be discovered made this second time outstanding.
Although…
Being caught doing it while both wearing frocks added an element of delicious wickedness to the whole affair.
Arthur discovered he had a ‘kink’. He mentioned this breakthrough to Leon, once they were again covered in disappointingly masculine clothes.
“Me too,” Leon admitted.
Good thing they were in boring male clothing because Leon’s sex-wild eyes and hair made Arthur want to lock them together in a room and fuck for a week. Perhaps a month…
They’d thought they’d regained their composure when Father returned, but apparently not.
“Again! You’re about to punished for immoral behaviour and you did it again?”
Father had them branded. Not on their chest or neck as was typical, due to their youth and nobility, and Father’s hope that this foolishness would end with the punishment. The red-hot metal was pressed directly above their tailbones instead. Father did it himself to conceal the humiliating truth from the kingdom and made them wear dresses until the wounds healed; telling the court this last was penance for a juvenile prank.
These penalties were more like rewards. Arthur and Leon would pass each other in gowns simple or extravagant, lust-fire would burn in their eyes and they would immediately find somewhere to fuck. One incredible time, Leon held Arthur’s layered skirts high so he could watch where they joined and gave a commentary on the way Arthur’s full balls and droopy dick moved as he rode Leon at different paces. Considering the many alcoves, stables, wagons, haystacks, and other places they sucked, tugged, and otherwise got each other off without being seen, it came as a complete shock when Father walked in on them in Arthur’s chamber.
“It’s the Lady’s clothing that began all this, isn’t it?” He asked wearily after cursing with his eyes covered as they made themselves presentable.
Arthur and Leon nodded mutely, apologetically. They simply couldn’t help it. One glimpse of the other in feminine attire and…
“Then clearly I’ve been punished more for your actions than you have. The tradition of the Powderpuff Tourney is hereby discontinued. If either of you so much as touches something remotely feminine I shall inflict the full penalty - is that clear?”
“Yes Father.”
Leon stood in appalled silence.
“I shouldn’t give that gown back to Morgana if I were you Arthur.”
“No Father. Um, what of the others?”
Father stared without moving for an uncomfortably long time.
“I’ll buy her some new ones,” Arthur insisted in an attempt to end the horror.
“Yes, do that. Make it an apology for missing her tourney victory. Never, never do anything like this again,” Father commanded solemnly. He added stern hand gestures and a glower for extra emphasis before leaving the room.
“Well… That’s that then.” Arthur was incapable of expressing his disappointment beyond that simple statement.
“At least, I’ll always have a burn on my bum, reminding me of my remarkable horny Princess.” Leon said it with an irrepressible chuckle. They couldn’t believe he’d managed to escape with his life.
“I’d kiss you for that, if it wouldn’t see you hanged.”
“Thank you Sire.”
And that had been the end of that.
|~~~|
Leon pushes into Arthur again. His return is quick and vigorous after a few languid strokes. Their affair had occurred years ago and only lasted a matter of days but his body remembers what to do, how to ensure optimum satisfaction for each. He pushes Arthur’s silk shift higher. Arthur bends lower. Leon caresses the curved back with his hands and then his beard. Arthur shivers as he always did when Leon’s stubble grazed his skin. Leon makes a sound of incoherent pleasure against his Queen’s back.
Quickly, quickly, he’s going to come…
“Your Majesty! Oh, um…” Percival stammers as Leon hides Arthur’s face. “I was told,” Percival clears his throat, “King Arthur might still, be here, clearly not.”
“This better be important Percival!”
Percival’s eyes widen and he looks in disbelief at the figure bent in front of Leon. Silence looms. Leon taps Arthur’s thigh, prompting him to say something to make this more amusing and less dreadful. Actually, the sight of Percival in his splendid amethyst gown is already making this less dreadful as Arthur unbends slightly and uncovers his head. The movement makes Leon moan reflexively. Arthur reaches out to steady himself with that delicious ‘guh’ noise that set them on this path six years ago. Leon comes. Percival’s eyes widen further, lust replacing disbelief.
Arthur looks over his shoulder at Leon, mischief bright in his eyes.
“Lady Percival, would you like to fuck your King?” Leon politely extends this jovial invitation to join them. Arthur’s expression lets the younger knight know the offer is genuine. Percival takes two eager steps forward.
|~~~|
Arthur kneels on the low table, on all fours. Leon is in front and reclining underneath him so he can see Arthur’s face up close while the largest man either has ever met fills him with cock.
“Huge,” Arthur declares in an awed whisper.
“What a surprise,” Leon mocks him.
Arthur can’t retaliate. Percival knocks the breath out of him with every movement. Leon clasps Arthur’s hair and brings his face forward so their noses touch.
“You’re loving it, aren’t you?” Leon asks.
Lord yeah. A gasp and spinal arch will have to be answer enough. He must be about to split in half but he doesn’t care.
“New annual tradition?” Leon asks against Arthur’s mouth.
“Ghmm. Yes, guh. Yes!”
|~~~|
Best tradition ever!
Percival holds to top of Arthur’s thighs, Leon holds Arthur’s shoulders, and Percival can see the intensity of their connection through Leon’s eyes.
“Fuck him Percival, fuck him harder. He won’t break, will you Arthur?”
“Huaoh! Hih-hih-hih-hih-hohh!” is all Arthur says as Percival follows Leon’s orders.
The movement of Arthur’s spine resembles a bucking horse, only slower and deliberate. The noises he makes, the feel, smell, and taste of him are intoxicating. No wonder Merlin and Guinevere smile all the time. Holy shit!
|~~~|
Leon is mesmerised by Arthur’s face, by the way his bum is briefly visible over one shoulder, by the sounds of Percival’s thighs hitting him, by how much he’s enjoying watching Leon watching him get fucked by an even bigger bloke in an even flouncier gown.
This can only happen once a year. Not because of fidelity, they’re all nobles and the unspoken laws say they can fuck who they want - as long as neither partner is married. But everything about this is wicked, intense, easily de-humanising. Too much and they will become depraved. The promise of once a year is sufficient.
“Come my Queen,” Leon breathes the words into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur does, quietly. His bodily reaction however brings Percival to his knees.
“Every year,” Arthur pants with a devilishly satisfied smile. “By order of the King… and your Queen.”
|~~~|
The Great Hall is full of noblewomen dressed as Lords and noblemen dressed as Ladies. Never has the citadel been filled with such a joyous air. The victor of this year’s Powderpuff Tourney receives her trophy and a passionate kiss from her magnificently dressed husband.
“You weren’t at the tourney.” Merlin lets everyone see that he is clearly ticked as he drops a goblet in front of Arthur. “And you aren’t wearing a dress.”
“You aren’t wearing my favour, and therefore I have been rejected by my nominated champion. As I don’t have a champion I am not required to wear a dress or attend the tourney.”
“By the looks of you you’ve been fucking all day instead.” Merlin knows what sexed-up Arthur looks like, from any direction.
“Traditions must be upheld.”
“Must they,” Merlin replies snidely.
“This one, yes.” Arthur’s sombre response is directed at the empty goblet twirling idly between his fingers.
“Does this tradition have something to with why a recently re-instated tradition was disposed of in the first place?” Merlin asks carefully.
Arthur rewards him with a proud smile. Merlin feels like he truly is Arthur’ champion and wishes he’d worn the silly favour now. “It has everything to do with it, Merlin, with the double benefit of separating my reign as King from my father’s. What occurred on this day flies in the face of one of Camelot’s stupidest and cruellest laws, a law I intend to publicly revoke. Every year I intend to celebrate in the same way. People have been wrongly ostracised for following instincts that accidentally lead them into trouble. No more.”
“By fucking sorcerers?” Merlin asks in confusion. He hopes Arthur refers to lifting the ban on magic. Although, telling Arthur he’s been fucking a sorcerer a lot more frequently than one day a year might make things awkward for a while. Particularly if Arthur’s facial expression is anything to go by.
“Sorcery shall remain under ban until I can be certain it is only individuals that are malicious, not magic itself.”
“Then what rubbish are you sprouting on about…?”
Arthur pulls Merlin close, practically onto his lap and murmurs into his ear. It’s a long story, but one Merlin didn’t expect to hear. He glances at Sir Leon from time to time throughout the tale. Merlin would never have picked Arthur and Leon for the type to… No wonder Arthur always says no when Merlin suggests mixing things up a bit.
Merlin waits until they’re alone before kissing Arthur.
“So I’m forgiven, am I?”
“Not entirely, not yet - maybe next year, if you let me watch.”