fic: A Sorcerer, A King, and Their Knight
Dec. 26th, 2011 12:16 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesTitle: A Sorcerer, A King, and Their Knight
Pairing: Arthur/Gwaine/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pretty much just DP porn. But they have a metric ton of feelings each if that helps.
Content Notes: Canon future-fic, established polyamory, double penetration
Word Count: 5.5k
Note: Thank you to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
hardticket for the beta
Disclaimer: Not mine
When Gwaine lets himself into Merlin's room he finds Merlin poring over old maps and scrolls, the same type Gwaine has seen him discussing in whispers with Arthur, their heads bent close together. He turns and gives Gwaine a warm smile, watching him as he crosses the room.
"Where's Arthur?" Gwaine asks.
Merlin shrugs, rubs his eyes, and neatly re-rolls a scroll. "Kingly things. He'll be here soon."
"Mmm-hmm," Gwaine murmurs, and he sets his hands to Merlin's shoulders. "You look tired."
"Little bit," Merlin agrees, tipping his head back to rest against Gwaine's stomach. Gwaine rubs a thumb along the side of Merlin's throat and drops a kiss into his hair. Merlin just murmurs happily and Gwaine leans down, closer.
"Come on," he says warmly, kissing the side of Merlin's neck. "You know he loves it when we start without him."
"I really don't think he does," Merlin says doubtfully.
"Well, it gives him something to complain about," Gwaine shrugs. "He likes that, at least."
Merlin tries to give Gwaine a reproachful look, but it's a bit difficult when he's almost laughing, wriggling under Gwaine's hands as he nips at the delicate skin behind Merlin's ear.
"Come away from there," Gwaine insists, running his hand down Merlin's arm to his wrist and tugging. Merlin gives in easily (Gwaine has always liked that) and stands, turning into Gwaine's arms.
They share a slow, comfortable kiss before Gwaine takes Merlin's hand again and pulls him gently to the bed. Merlin makes a feeble attempt at a protest, completely undermining himself when he reaches for Gwaine's belt. Gwaine bats his hand away, a half-formed plan coming to mind. It's been too long since they all had some real fun.
"Let me lock the door," he says, and Merlin nods. It was Merlin who'd presented them with the keys one day, dropping three sets of three keys each on little twists of chain onto the table, his expression daring either Arthur or Gwaine to say a word. Neither of them had though, and Gwaine's willing to bet Arthur likes the idea just as much as he does.
When he turns back Merlin's waiting for him, smiling as Gwaine tosses his keys onto the table and walks closer. He kisses Merlin again, just quickly, and Merlin tugs on his hand, glancing over his shoulder towards the bed. Gwaine doesn't need telling twice and he walks Merlin backwards before nudging him to sit on the edge of the bed. Gwaine goes to his knees, pushing Merlin's thighs apart to nestle between them. Merlin gets an interested light in his eyes all of a sudden, and brushes Gwaine's hair back from his face. Gwaine leans into the touch for a moment, fingers brushing over the back of Merlin's knee.
Gwaine rests his cheek against Merlin's thigh for a moment before reaching for his belt, undoing and discarding it before pulling Merlin's shirt loose, fingers sneaking underneath to graze over his skin.
"Gwaine –"
"Ah-ah," Gwaine says gently. "You said you were tired. So you just sit there and let me get on with things."
Merlin grins down at him and says, "Well, if you insist."
"I absolutely do," Gwaine says, lifting up to kiss Merlin on a sweet breath. Merlin just lets Gwaine strip him, flopping onto his back and arching his hips to let Gwaine pull his trousers off. Gwaine hops up onto the bed, knees either side of Merlin's narrow hips. He drags his hands down the length of Merlin's chest and then runs them back up, feeling Merlin's shirt wrinkle under his hands. Merlin reaches up to grab hold of his wrists, long fingers wrapping tight around them and Gwaine grins down at him before crouching lower and kissing along Merlin's jaw. He nuzzles his way to the hot skin behind Merlin's ear that always makes him arch and gasp when it's kissed. Gwaine, with his knees either side of Merlin's hips, keeps Merlin pinned until he makes a frustrated noise and pushes at Gwaine's chest.
Gwaine takes the opportunity to whip his shirt off, because that always makes Merlin more amenable. Works a treat on Arthur too, although if he doesn't get his royal backside here soon, he really is going to miss out on all the fun. Gwaine tries to calculate just how much trouble he'd get in if he were to, say, lean out into the corridor and yell for a page to run along and fetch the king, terribly urgent, off you go. Distracted by Merlin wriggling out of his own dark blue shirt, Gwaine forgets the idea in favour of kissing him again.
Merlin loves to kiss. Arthur and Gwaine have taken turns at it for whole hours at a stretch before, both faintly amazed by what it does to Merlin. He goes all languid and slow, each movement taking forever, turning kisses into things that last and last. Gwaine takes it slow, kisses Merlin's upper lip and then his lower, then the corner of his mouth and over his jaw, his cheek, until Merlin's squirming underneath him, grabbing Gwaine's shoulders and drawing blunt nails down his back.
"Come on," Merlin says, pushing at Gwaine and lifting his hips, grinding against him, pressing the hot proof of his arousal to Gwaine's.
So much for waiting for Arthur, Gwaine thinks with a huff of laughter and he shrugs off Merlin's grip, sliding his way down to suck a soft red mark onto Merlin's hip. Merlin hums happily, one hand curling through Gwaine's hair and Gwaine very gently cups his palm over Merlin's erection.
"You're the worst kind of tease," Merlin tells him.
"What?" Gwaine asks innocently. "I'm getting you ready for Arthur. You're always saying we should be nicer to each other. What could be nicer than this?"
Merlin laughs in spite of himself and lifts his hips for Gwaine.
"On, that's nice," Gwaine tells him. "That's lovely. You're so bloody beautiful."
Merlin laughs again but he goes shy, which is ridiculous, given the things they've done together. When Merlin hides his face in his arm, Gwaine says, "No, no, don't cheat. Let me see you."
Merlin lowers his arm, grumbling, and Gwaine can't help but laugh at the look on his face. It is so easy to get Merlin riled up. He shifts his fingers, a firmer stroke this time before he lets himself lick at Merlin's cock, tongue wetting his fingers too and Merlin makes a low, pained sound, his hips shifting. Merlin is ridiculously responsive, always has been, not an ounce of shame in him when it comes to this. It makes for heady times, Gwaine and Arthur drawing out Merlin's pleasure, turning it (like most things) into a competition between the two of them.
Once, before they worked things out, Gwaine would have revelled in an opportunity like this, to keep Merlin for himself, however long that lasted. Now, even as he makes Merlin shiver and curse and yell, even as he tastes the sweet-salt of Merlin's skin, slides his fingers into the tight furl of his body, there is an...awareness. Merlin's inner thighs have a faint red blush from Gwaine's beard, and he's looking at Gwaine like he is miraculous and infuriating all at once. But there's still something missing.
"You know, I don't think your magic's that impressive if you've no way of summoning his lordship whenever we require him."
Merlin responds to that by shoving two fingers into Gwaine's mouth. Gwaine laughs and sucks hard, his teeth catching on Merlin's knuckle. Merlin slides his fingers over Gwaine's tongue, pressing it down against his teeth until Gwaine laughs and draws back, turning his head to kiss Merlin's palm. His mouth is wet and spit shines between Merlin's legs, over his cock and across his hole. Gwaine grins up at him and Merlin's fingers push through his hair. Their eyes catch and Merlin returns his smile, tugging gently on a lock of Gwaine's hair. They hear Arthur's key in the lock and Gwaine scratches his beard over Merlin's thigh, watching anticipation kindle in his eyes.
Perfect timing, Gwaine thinks as he presses his fingers back into Merlin, making him gasp. Still, it wouldn't do to let Arthur know that.
"Go away, we're busy," Gwaine says over the sound of Arthur's thoroughly unsurprised chuckle and the click of the door being relocked.
Arthur crosses to the bed and looks down at them. Merlin smiles sunnily up at him in that way everyone knows Arthur can't resist. Sure enough Arthur smiles back at him and waves a hand.
"By all means," he says. "Don't let me stop you."
"Alright then, we won't," Gwaine says agreeably.
Arthur's boots clunk to the floor and he demands, "Move over."
Gwaine curls his fingers harder into Merlin's thigh to hear him whine and says casually, "I was here first."
"Actually, technically, I was," Arthur says. "Also, who's king?"
"Typical royals," Gwaine scoffs, but he smirks as he says it. He's all set to carry on teasing but Merlin coughs significantly. "Ah, sweetheart. Don't worry, we still love each other."
And it's true, now. What would once have been a slap upside the head for cheek is now just Arthur's hand carding through his hair. Gwaine leans into the touch for a moment and then reaches for Arthur, pulling him down onto the bed with them. Merlin pushes himself up on his elbows and grins as Arthur catches hold of Gwaine's jaw and looks at him, eyes coming back to rest again and again on his mouth, wet from where he's been worshipping Merlin. He takes his sweet time before moving in for a kiss, fingers still holding Gwaine tightly in place.
Arthur looks too polished and formal by half; carrying duties to their bed is not something Gwaine will tolerate, so he musses Arthur up deliberately, hands dragging through his hair, pulling at his clothes. There's no protest, and when Gwaine has Arthur's shirt free of his trousers and mostly unlaced, Merlin deigns to join them. He steals Arthur for a quick kiss before nudging him back to Gwaine.
Gwaine feels Arthur move to sit behind him, soft lips tracing the line of Gwaine's throat. He reaches around to take Gwaine's hand and sounds amused to find it already slick.
"Oh, I see how it is," Arthur says, his voice a soft, fond rumble in Gwaine's ear. "So impatient."
Gwaine tips his head to kiss Arthur, feigning innocence. "Impatience nothing. I was getting him ready for you," he tells Arthur.
Arthur exchanges a glance with Merlin before he turns Gwaine's face towards himself and says, "Maybe I want you tonight." There's something in his eyes that stumps Gwaine for a moment, before Arthur adds, "Maybe we both do."
"Oh, well that – that could definitely be arranged," Gwaine says, attempting to sound casual and failing miserably. "I assume you'll be making my excuses for me at training in the morning," he adds.
Arthur hums noncommittally, and the string of kisses he plants across Gwaine's shoulder to his throat distract him from the ridiculousness of what Arthur says next. "Tell 'em you pulled a muscle in your groin."
Merlin snorts. "And no one will see through that, I'm sure."
Normally Gwaine would be on board with any mocking, but Arthur's hand has strayed below his belt, and Gwaine is thinking of little else. He turns his head a little and Arthur snatches a kiss. They're both distracted when a hum of magic passes over them, and then Gwaine is very aware of Arthur's nakedness against his back, his own skin shamelessly hot and bare under Arthur's fingers.
Gwaine leans further into Arthur, utterly content. His king and their sorcerer. Or hell, his sorcerer and their king. Or maybe, he thinks, as Arthur and Merlin have a whole conversation in a single glance, maybe a sorcerer, a king, and their knight. Gwaine will take it any way he can get it, he thinks happily as Merlin finally shuffles up to join them in their embrace, arms sliding around Gwaine so his fingers can skitter over Arthur's ribs.
When Merlin's lips catch Gwaine's in a softly lingering kiss, Arthur makes a contented noise and says, "That's perfect. Don't stop that." His weight goes from the bed abruptly.
Gone to get the oil, Gwaine thinks, and he's glad of it. He does as Arthur said, keeps on kissing Merlin slow and soft, whispering in between kisses, "You two planned this, didn't you?"
Merlin smiles against his mouth. "We might have had a conversation."
"Or five," Arthur says. "Don't be coy now, Merlin, not the way you've been talking."
Merlin laughs and makes a rude gesture at Arthur before he turns back to Gwaine and says, almost apologetic, "It's just the way you look when you're taking it."
"So," Arthur says briskly, and the business-like tone should not be sexy but Gwaine hears it in training or at court every day, and it makes him think of moments like this. "How're we going to do this?"
"Um – " Merlin looks blank and goes back to kissing Gwaine.
"Helpful," Arthur tuts, pushing Merlin back by his shoulder. "I think – yeah, Merlin, you lean back against the pillows and that way I can sort of bend him over you and –"
"I am still here, you know," Gwaine says.
Merlin gives him a familiar smile, fond and wicked all at once and asks, "How could we forget?"
"Oh, I don't know," Arthur teases. "It takes a bit of effort, but I usually manage."
"Hey," Merlin chastises. "Be nice."
"Merlin, I am always nice."
Gwaine clears his throat pointedly. "If you're finished flirting, it'd be nice if one of both of you could shag me before we all die of old age."
Merlin laughs when Arthur's response is to start working two fingers into Gwaine with nothing in the way of warning. Gwaine's jaw drops and his complaint trails off into a happy hum. Arthur is...not rushed, but...purposeful, that's the word. He's very purposeful. Merlin's hands flutter over Gwaine's face and shoulders as Arthur opens him, his soft lips shaping silent encouragement against Gwaine's skin.
Gwaine feels like pulling away from Arthur's hand and taking Merlin's dick right now. The want is like a scrabbling thing inside him, eager and insistent. But he waits, thinks about how sparring with Arthur – whatever form that takes – means always having to think three steps ahead.
Eventually when Gwaine is gasping, kissing Merlin to stop himself saying something truly nonsensical, open around three of Arthur's fingers, shuddering at the careful touch of Arthur's other hand feeling the stretch, Arthur nips at his earlobe and says, "Alright."
Gwaine nods, feeling two sets of hands on him, urging him up and forward. He bites his lip as Merlin fills him, a moan slipping out as Arthur's hands fall onto his shoulders, firm, urging him down. Fuck, that gets him every time and Arthur knows it, the bastard. Gwaine tips his head back to glare at Arthur but finds him dark-eyed and flushed, not nearly as smug as Gwaine was expecting. What else can he do but kiss Arthur?
Arthur's fingers go tight in his hair and Gwaine feels Merlin clutching at his thigh. Merlin's hips arch powerfully and Gwaine cries out into Arthur's mouth.
"Oh, fuck," Merlin says in a tight voice. "Fuck."
Gwaine knows that tone; any second now Merlin is going to lose sight of their plans and start shagging Gwaine senseless.
"Merlin," Arthur says sharply. "Don't. You. Dare."
"Well hurry up, then," Merlin protests. "And stop groping each other, god."
Gwaine can't help grinning at that, rolling his hips experimentally, feeling the answering thrust from Merlin. Arthur cups Gwaine's cock, pressing it to his stomach and nipping his ear.
"Don't encourage him, you."
"Well, I have to second Merlin's suggestion that you hurry it up, princess," Gwaine tells him.
"Don't call me that," Arthur gripes, but it lacks the venom of old.
It takes ages. Ages of Merlin filling him and Arthur's fingers playing delicately around his stretched rim. They're looking at each other, Gwaine knows even though his eyes are closed. There's no other explanation for the synchronicity of their movements, Merlin wriggling his hips under Gwaine, giving Arthur the space to slide a slicked finger in alongside his cock.
One feels fine, two is a bit of a stretch, but three is a burn, and Gwaine has to gasp out, "Stop, wait, wait." He hates having to do it, but when Arthur kisses across his shoulder-blades, already sounding shaky and breathless, Gwaine doesn't feel too bad.
"That," Merlin starts hesitantly. "That feels – God, you – both of you."
Gwaine opens his eyes to look down at Merlin speculatively. Wonders what that's like, imagines being deep inside Merlin with Arthur's fingers squeezed tight up against him. He recognises dimly that turn-about is almost certainly something he can demand now. Of Merlin, that would be easier, and then Merlin will have next to no trouble persuading Arthur to take a turn. And that...that would be little short of miraculous, the two of them taking Arthur apart like that.
The thoughts help Gwaine through it, help him breathe and steady himself. Just a little. Just enough. Arthur stays at three fingers for a while. It's no surprise that he revels in any situation that allows him to tease both Gwaine and Merlin to within an inch of their lives. He plays around for a good long time, his other hand sliding from Gwaine's body to Merlin's and back again.
"Ready?" Arthur asks after a while and it takes a while for the word to make sense to Gwaine. "Hey." Arthur pushes Gwaine's hair back from his face. "Ready to try?"
"Yeah – " Gwaine says, and his voice breaks on the word. He clears his throat. "Yes."
"Shift up," Arthur tells him and Gwaine does, until Merlin's just barely in him at all. Gwaine's thighs ache holding himself like this, and Merlin can read his mind, he must be able to, because his long fingers rub at the sore muscles. Gwaine groans gratefully and it catches in his throat when Arthur starts pushing inside as well. Fuck it's so much.
"Arthur –" Merlin says. "Careful, careful –"
"He is," Gwaine manages to say, and he can feel Arthur's smile against his throat. It's typical really, that Gwaine will rush into something like this and only realise halfway in what volumes it speaks about how much he trusts his men.
It's achingly slow, a blunt pressure that's – surely it's going to be too much; he just won't be able to take it. Something in him clenches at that and he can feel himself tightening up around them.
"Shit – fuck, Arthur –" Gwaine slurs, and he feels Arthur take hold of his hand, squeezing his fingers tight.
"We can stop," Arthur offers.
"No," Gwaine says instantly. "No, don't."
"Gwaine –"
"I said don't stop," Gwaine says, squeezing his eyes tight shut and pushing the words out through gritted teeth. It's somehow become very important that they get this right. Gwaine isn't one for metaphors, especially not when it comes to sex, which he's always thought should be as raw and uncomplicated as possible. These two, though. They make everything different, and being able to take them both will mean something more than testing his body to its limits.
Merlin mouths kisses along his temple and says, teasing, "Don't cheat. Let me see you."
Merlin can read Gwaine's mood at a glance. But Arthur can know his body with less than that. When they met, Gwaine's fighting style had been unorthodox to say the least, and though he still resorts to his old tricks when he needs to, he has to admit that he's learned a lot from Arthur. And Arthur has learned a lot about Gwaine from training him.
"Merlin," he says soft and stern.
Merlin shuts up, breathes an apology into Gwaine's jaw. Arthur just waits, his hand an anchor at Gwaine's hip. And then he slides his other hand up, covers Gwaine's eyes and that is suddenly, inexplicably better.
"See?" Arthur says. "I told you. Helps you focus."
Gwaine huffs a laugh. Every now and then, Arthur will don a blindfold and show everyone that even blind he can still win. Since Arthur realised the sight is enough to make Gwaine's armour even more uncomfortable than usual, the number of demonstrations has increased. A couple of times Arthur has oh-so-casually asked Gwaine to help him with the blindfold and Gwaine has been worse than useless for the whole training session.
"Lies," Gwaine says, relaxing now, with Arthur's fingers blocking the light. "You do that to upset me and you know it."
"Last time you got drunk you told me you wanted him to wear that blindfold while you sucked him off," Merlin chimes in helpfully.
Arthur's soft laughter ruffles Gwaine's hair. "I'll remember that," he promises.
Gwaine just tips his head back gently, fuzzy light showing through Arthur's fingers for a second before he blocks it again. He rests his head against Arthur's shoulder and Arthur kisses the edge of his eyebrow, holds him there for a long moment. Maybe he is right, damn him, because Gwaine feels calmer now, the weird panicked edge to his arousal dulling.
Arthur edges his hand away from Gwaine's eyes and asks, "That's better, isn't it?"
Gwaine nods. It is better. He feels lulled by Arthur's hands on him, Merlin watching them with careful blue eyes. It is wonderfully unnerving to be the focus of their attention like this. It takes a little longer still, Arthur pushing in in slow, slow increments. Finally though, finally, he stops and Gwaine can't resist reaching a trembling hand down, touching the space where they're both in him.
"Gwaine –" Arthur gasps out and the flexing of his hips is probably involuntary. It still makes Gwaine shudder though, an insistent bolt of pleasure, and he closes his eyes, moans sharply when Merlin reaches forward to kiss his open mouth.
"Sorry, sorry," Merlin says, but Gwaine snatches at his hair, breathes against his lips. The sloppy kiss feels like a lifeline in the same way as Arthur's hands, strong and capable on his hips.
"Good," Arthur says, kissing Gwaine's shoulder. "That's good, that's –"
Gwaine feels Merlin reach around him to touch Arthur and Gwaine imagines the picture they must make, feels this joining more than any other makes them truly one. It's heady and for all that Gwaine doesn't quite dare to move, it feels powerful. Because with just his body he can make them like this, tender and careful and unless he's very much mistaken, a little awestruck.
"You're perfect; you're – god, Arthur, look at him."
Gwaine swallows around the hard lump in his throat. It feels good now, but with the promise of how fucking sore he's going to be later twisting underneath it.
"You might have to knight him all over again," Merlin suggests and Gwaine laughs, gives Arthur's hand a don't you dare kind of squeeze.
"Magical blessing," Arthur suggests, kissing behind Gwaine's ear. "Keys to the kingdom. Your tavern bill for the rest of your life. I'll think of something."
"I'll – take the last one," Gwaine says, and it's an enormous effort just to think straight long enough to take the piss like usual. The reward – Arthur shaking with barely suppressed laughter, and Merlin kissing him like Gwaine pinned the stars to the heavens – is well worth it.
"God," Merlin says. "Gwaine, I can't believe you –"
"I can," Arthur says. "I told you." His voice is low in Gwaine's ear, teasing but laced with affection. "Gwaine can do anything."
"Yeah," Merlin agrees. "It just – must feel mad," he says.
Gwaine nods. "Pretty mad. You should try it."
"Yeah. Maybe. Yes."
"Hear that?" Gwaine asks Arthur.
"Certainly did. You know we'll be holding you to that."
Merlin laughs, pinches Arthur's ribs if the resulting, hey! is anything to go by. "One thing at a time, sire."
"Don't go swelling that pretty head of his," Gwaine scolds Merlin. "He's bad enough as it is."
"Well if you can manage to mock," Arthur says.
"Always," Gwaine says. "Sire."
Gwaine gets no warning before Arthur rolls his hips more deliberately this time. Gwaine can feel every inch of the movement as he clutches at Merlin's shoulders and tries to breathe. He feels like he might shake right apart, not helped by Merlin, moaning low and a bit wild, "oh, oh, Arthur, I can feel you, I can – " Gwaine grabs a handful of his hair and Merlin gets the hint, keeping quiet for a minute, his palms rubbing over Gwaine's chest and ribs.
Arthur curls his fingers around Gwaine's jaw and gently tips his head back. Merlin has gone wild-eyed and breathless but Arthur sounds impossibly gentle, impeccably in control as he says, "Gwaine? Alright?"
"Yes," Gwaine says on a huff of breath. "Yes, just – just let me breathe."
Arthur's other hand moves over his arm in a firm caress and Gwaine lets his head drop. He can feel fingers on his face and he can tell they belong to Merlin without even thinking about it.
"He's so –" Merlin says softly.
"I know," Arthur tells him. "God, I know."
Gwaine feels – well, he feels stretched and a little sore, more the promise of an ache than anything else. But there's a fierce joy in it too, in taking what they have to give and reducing them both to near silence that sounds awed. It feels out of this world, and now he's a little calmer and the initial burn has eased, Gwaine can feel...everything. He can feel them both inside him; can tell where Arthur ends and Merlin begins. Gwaine gets a little dizzy when he thinks how much he has to stretch his fingers to not-quite wrap around both their dicks and the awareness grows to a sharp point. He has them both. Inside.
Arthur rocks his hips and completely destroys Gwaine's line of thought. "Merlin," he says sharply. "Work with me."
It's only then that Gwaine realises Merlin is slack-jawed, looking as dumbfounded as Gwaine feels. It takes a while, and a bit of sniping at each other over Gwaine's shoulder about who exactly is doing it wrong, but Arthur and Merlin eventually manage to establish something that could tentatively be called a rhythm. It's nothing like as enthusiastic as usual – not a complaint, by the by – but Gwaine feels like every part of his body is hyper-aware of what's happening. He can feel the slow burn of pleasure in his fucking fingernails, it's so immense. Merlin is moving in shallow thrusts that would normally have Gwaine complaining. Except then there's Arthur, too. He's moving slower but deeper, sliding his cock along Merlin's.
"God, that is – so tight," Arthur says through gritted teeth.
Gwaine tries to laugh but all that comes out is a huff of air. He gropes valiantly for words and manages to say, "I'm so glad our king isn't just a pretty face."
Merlin bites his lip on a giggle and Gwaine turns his head back to butt his cheek against Arthur's and force out the words, "Tight, honestly, what were you expecting, genius?"
"I was kind of expecting this to shut you up," Arthur admits, but his hand is gentle as it slides on Gwaine's stomach, fingers tracing his muscles delicately.
Gwaine knows he lost his erection at some point during the penetration, but being pinned between the two of them like this is reawakening it. And the pressure in his arse is becoming something more than overwhelming, becoming really fucking good. It's different from getting fucked normally, and Gwaine can't say he'd want it this way all the time. But god, it's – he is going to have to become more proficient at sexual metaphors, obviously, because this is something for which surely no words can yet exist.
It's as though someone's taken all the usual words like bliss and ache and surrender, added in a few new ones like owned and falling, and then honed them, pared them down to the very essence of what they are. I should be a bard, he thinks, quietly mocking his own romantic streak. Deciding it's past time he got a little more involved with the proceedings, Gwaine steadies himself with one hand on Merlin's shoulder, the other stretched up and back to tangle in Arthur's hair.
The next time Arthur draws back, Gwaine shifts against the motion, his thighs screaming a protest as he lifts himself higher. The push when he lowers himself feels new all over again and Gwaine feels smug at his good idea, at Arthur's shocked laugh in his ear and the way Merlin clutches at him, abrupt and just the right side of painful.
God, I love them, Gwaine thinks. I love them so much.
And then he's lost to it, to the tangle of their bodies, to the spoken and wordless encouragement both. It's a different manner of pleasure than what's usual, more a constant thrum than the normal jagged-edged rush. This sensation of overwhelming fullness is its own kind of satisfaction, and they way the two of them are moving is wonderful just for the whispers and touches they use to guide each other, careful even though their shuddering tension gives away how turned on they are.
Merlin loses it first, their names getting tangled up in his mouth, the sharp thrust of his hips as he comes making Gwaine cry out. Gwaine wasn't expecting the shaky blur of pleasure when Merlin pulls out of him, nor the way the movement would affect Arthur, the dry, shuddering breath that edges on a sob. Gwaine feels – god, embarrassing to even think it – empty down there, until Arthur rolls his hips deep and Gwaine shouts, tender and over-sensitised.
"Fuck, that's amazing," Arthur says in a tiny voice.
Gwaine feels like a puppet with the strings cut and only realises that he's come when he feels Merlin's fingers stroking across his belly, wet with Gwaine's seed. Arthur's saying something into his ear, voice low and urgent and Gwaine grudgingly scrapes his brain together enough to listen.
"– stop, I can stop, do you need me to – "
And he would, too. Wrecked and urgent as he sounds he'd stop if Gwaine told him to. Gwaine can't bring himself to do it, feels something in himself which is relishing the ache and the stretch. He shakes his head.
"You can finish up," he tells Arthur. "Just don't drag it out, yeah?"
Arthur's laughter sounds strangled. "Not much chance of that."
Merlin's hands catch hold of Gwaine's wrists, bracing him while Arthur fucks him in smooth, slow movements. Gwaine can't help the breathy whines when Arthur moves inside him. He juts his chin forward and Merlin kisses him, both laughing as Arthur groans out encouragement.
"Does it – " Merlin gasps, looking over Gwaine's shoulder at Arthur. "How does it feel? Is he – god, can you feel me still?"
"Merlin!" Arthur sounds annoyed at the way that pushes him over the edge, but Gwaine feels stupidly accomplished, like the first time he won a fair fight, or felt worthy of his knighthood.
Afterwards they're almost absurdly gentle with him, Merlin petting him clumsily while Arthur pads across the room and comes back with a cloth and water. Gwaine still feels out of his head in the aftermath. He can hear them murmuring to each other as they attend to him, but he can't make out the words. It's almost too much, and his throat feels tight for a moment until Arthur kisses him, slow and languid, pecks that trail off into just the lightest brush of Arthur's mouth against his own. Gwaine fumbles one hand into Arthur's hair and reaches the other out for Merlin, finding hot skin and the thump of his heartbeat.
*
In the morning – if it can be called that when it's still pitch black outside; Gwaine would argue most definitely not – Arthur wakes first, guided by the same strange internal alarm as always. Gwaine hears him move and pushes himself up on his elbows before attempting to swing his legs out of bed, utterly failing to hide a wince.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" Arthur demands.
"I'm – training," Gwaine mumbles. "Dutiful knight and all that."
Arthur is unexpectedly gentle again as he pushes Gwaine back into the bed and the warmth of Merlin's arms. "You're excused, you ridiculous man," he says. "Go back to sleep. I'll have some breakfast sent up for you both at a more reasonable hour."
Gwaine doesn't need telling twice and he starts dozing off again to the sounds of Arthur moving around the room.
"Hey," he calls when Arthur is about to leave.
"What?"
"Come back soon?"
The smile Arthur gives him then is indescribably bright and Gwaine lets it warm him. As the door closes behind Arthur, Merlin's arm goes around Gwaine and squeezes him close.
"You loooove him," Merlin croons against the back of Gwaine's neck.
"Well, what of it? So do you," Gwaine says, settling back into Merlin's hold.
Christmas is for porn, right? Right!
Pairing: Arthur/Gwaine/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Pretty much just DP porn. But they have a metric ton of feelings each if that helps.
Content Notes: Canon future-fic, established polyamory, double penetration
Word Count: 5.5k
Note: Thank you to
hardticket for the betaDisclaimer: Not mine
When Gwaine lets himself into Merlin's room he finds Merlin poring over old maps and scrolls, the same type Gwaine has seen him discussing in whispers with Arthur, their heads bent close together. He turns and gives Gwaine a warm smile, watching him as he crosses the room.
"Where's Arthur?" Gwaine asks.
Merlin shrugs, rubs his eyes, and neatly re-rolls a scroll. "Kingly things. He'll be here soon."
"Mmm-hmm," Gwaine murmurs, and he sets his hands to Merlin's shoulders. "You look tired."
"Little bit," Merlin agrees, tipping his head back to rest against Gwaine's stomach. Gwaine rubs a thumb along the side of Merlin's throat and drops a kiss into his hair. Merlin just murmurs happily and Gwaine leans down, closer.
"Come on," he says warmly, kissing the side of Merlin's neck. "You know he loves it when we start without him."
"I really don't think he does," Merlin says doubtfully.
"Well, it gives him something to complain about," Gwaine shrugs. "He likes that, at least."
Merlin tries to give Gwaine a reproachful look, but it's a bit difficult when he's almost laughing, wriggling under Gwaine's hands as he nips at the delicate skin behind Merlin's ear.
"Come away from there," Gwaine insists, running his hand down Merlin's arm to his wrist and tugging. Merlin gives in easily (Gwaine has always liked that) and stands, turning into Gwaine's arms.
They share a slow, comfortable kiss before Gwaine takes Merlin's hand again and pulls him gently to the bed. Merlin makes a feeble attempt at a protest, completely undermining himself when he reaches for Gwaine's belt. Gwaine bats his hand away, a half-formed plan coming to mind. It's been too long since they all had some real fun.
"Let me lock the door," he says, and Merlin nods. It was Merlin who'd presented them with the keys one day, dropping three sets of three keys each on little twists of chain onto the table, his expression daring either Arthur or Gwaine to say a word. Neither of them had though, and Gwaine's willing to bet Arthur likes the idea just as much as he does.
When he turns back Merlin's waiting for him, smiling as Gwaine tosses his keys onto the table and walks closer. He kisses Merlin again, just quickly, and Merlin tugs on his hand, glancing over his shoulder towards the bed. Gwaine doesn't need telling twice and he walks Merlin backwards before nudging him to sit on the edge of the bed. Gwaine goes to his knees, pushing Merlin's thighs apart to nestle between them. Merlin gets an interested light in his eyes all of a sudden, and brushes Gwaine's hair back from his face. Gwaine leans into the touch for a moment, fingers brushing over the back of Merlin's knee.
Gwaine rests his cheek against Merlin's thigh for a moment before reaching for his belt, undoing and discarding it before pulling Merlin's shirt loose, fingers sneaking underneath to graze over his skin.
"Gwaine –"
"Ah-ah," Gwaine says gently. "You said you were tired. So you just sit there and let me get on with things."
Merlin grins down at him and says, "Well, if you insist."
"I absolutely do," Gwaine says, lifting up to kiss Merlin on a sweet breath. Merlin just lets Gwaine strip him, flopping onto his back and arching his hips to let Gwaine pull his trousers off. Gwaine hops up onto the bed, knees either side of Merlin's narrow hips. He drags his hands down the length of Merlin's chest and then runs them back up, feeling Merlin's shirt wrinkle under his hands. Merlin reaches up to grab hold of his wrists, long fingers wrapping tight around them and Gwaine grins down at him before crouching lower and kissing along Merlin's jaw. He nuzzles his way to the hot skin behind Merlin's ear that always makes him arch and gasp when it's kissed. Gwaine, with his knees either side of Merlin's hips, keeps Merlin pinned until he makes a frustrated noise and pushes at Gwaine's chest.
Gwaine takes the opportunity to whip his shirt off, because that always makes Merlin more amenable. Works a treat on Arthur too, although if he doesn't get his royal backside here soon, he really is going to miss out on all the fun. Gwaine tries to calculate just how much trouble he'd get in if he were to, say, lean out into the corridor and yell for a page to run along and fetch the king, terribly urgent, off you go. Distracted by Merlin wriggling out of his own dark blue shirt, Gwaine forgets the idea in favour of kissing him again.
Merlin loves to kiss. Arthur and Gwaine have taken turns at it for whole hours at a stretch before, both faintly amazed by what it does to Merlin. He goes all languid and slow, each movement taking forever, turning kisses into things that last and last. Gwaine takes it slow, kisses Merlin's upper lip and then his lower, then the corner of his mouth and over his jaw, his cheek, until Merlin's squirming underneath him, grabbing Gwaine's shoulders and drawing blunt nails down his back.
"Come on," Merlin says, pushing at Gwaine and lifting his hips, grinding against him, pressing the hot proof of his arousal to Gwaine's.
So much for waiting for Arthur, Gwaine thinks with a huff of laughter and he shrugs off Merlin's grip, sliding his way down to suck a soft red mark onto Merlin's hip. Merlin hums happily, one hand curling through Gwaine's hair and Gwaine very gently cups his palm over Merlin's erection.
"You're the worst kind of tease," Merlin tells him.
"What?" Gwaine asks innocently. "I'm getting you ready for Arthur. You're always saying we should be nicer to each other. What could be nicer than this?"
Merlin laughs in spite of himself and lifts his hips for Gwaine.
"On, that's nice," Gwaine tells him. "That's lovely. You're so bloody beautiful."
Merlin laughs again but he goes shy, which is ridiculous, given the things they've done together. When Merlin hides his face in his arm, Gwaine says, "No, no, don't cheat. Let me see you."
Merlin lowers his arm, grumbling, and Gwaine can't help but laugh at the look on his face. It is so easy to get Merlin riled up. He shifts his fingers, a firmer stroke this time before he lets himself lick at Merlin's cock, tongue wetting his fingers too and Merlin makes a low, pained sound, his hips shifting. Merlin is ridiculously responsive, always has been, not an ounce of shame in him when it comes to this. It makes for heady times, Gwaine and Arthur drawing out Merlin's pleasure, turning it (like most things) into a competition between the two of them.
Once, before they worked things out, Gwaine would have revelled in an opportunity like this, to keep Merlin for himself, however long that lasted. Now, even as he makes Merlin shiver and curse and yell, even as he tastes the sweet-salt of Merlin's skin, slides his fingers into the tight furl of his body, there is an...awareness. Merlin's inner thighs have a faint red blush from Gwaine's beard, and he's looking at Gwaine like he is miraculous and infuriating all at once. But there's still something missing.
"You know, I don't think your magic's that impressive if you've no way of summoning his lordship whenever we require him."
Merlin responds to that by shoving two fingers into Gwaine's mouth. Gwaine laughs and sucks hard, his teeth catching on Merlin's knuckle. Merlin slides his fingers over Gwaine's tongue, pressing it down against his teeth until Gwaine laughs and draws back, turning his head to kiss Merlin's palm. His mouth is wet and spit shines between Merlin's legs, over his cock and across his hole. Gwaine grins up at him and Merlin's fingers push through his hair. Their eyes catch and Merlin returns his smile, tugging gently on a lock of Gwaine's hair. They hear Arthur's key in the lock and Gwaine scratches his beard over Merlin's thigh, watching anticipation kindle in his eyes.
Perfect timing, Gwaine thinks as he presses his fingers back into Merlin, making him gasp. Still, it wouldn't do to let Arthur know that.
"Go away, we're busy," Gwaine says over the sound of Arthur's thoroughly unsurprised chuckle and the click of the door being relocked.
Arthur crosses to the bed and looks down at them. Merlin smiles sunnily up at him in that way everyone knows Arthur can't resist. Sure enough Arthur smiles back at him and waves a hand.
"By all means," he says. "Don't let me stop you."
"Alright then, we won't," Gwaine says agreeably.
Arthur's boots clunk to the floor and he demands, "Move over."
Gwaine curls his fingers harder into Merlin's thigh to hear him whine and says casually, "I was here first."
"Actually, technically, I was," Arthur says. "Also, who's king?"
"Typical royals," Gwaine scoffs, but he smirks as he says it. He's all set to carry on teasing but Merlin coughs significantly. "Ah, sweetheart. Don't worry, we still love each other."
And it's true, now. What would once have been a slap upside the head for cheek is now just Arthur's hand carding through his hair. Gwaine leans into the touch for a moment and then reaches for Arthur, pulling him down onto the bed with them. Merlin pushes himself up on his elbows and grins as Arthur catches hold of Gwaine's jaw and looks at him, eyes coming back to rest again and again on his mouth, wet from where he's been worshipping Merlin. He takes his sweet time before moving in for a kiss, fingers still holding Gwaine tightly in place.
Arthur looks too polished and formal by half; carrying duties to their bed is not something Gwaine will tolerate, so he musses Arthur up deliberately, hands dragging through his hair, pulling at his clothes. There's no protest, and when Gwaine has Arthur's shirt free of his trousers and mostly unlaced, Merlin deigns to join them. He steals Arthur for a quick kiss before nudging him back to Gwaine.
Gwaine feels Arthur move to sit behind him, soft lips tracing the line of Gwaine's throat. He reaches around to take Gwaine's hand and sounds amused to find it already slick.
"Oh, I see how it is," Arthur says, his voice a soft, fond rumble in Gwaine's ear. "So impatient."
Gwaine tips his head to kiss Arthur, feigning innocence. "Impatience nothing. I was getting him ready for you," he tells Arthur.
Arthur exchanges a glance with Merlin before he turns Gwaine's face towards himself and says, "Maybe I want you tonight." There's something in his eyes that stumps Gwaine for a moment, before Arthur adds, "Maybe we both do."
"Oh, well that – that could definitely be arranged," Gwaine says, attempting to sound casual and failing miserably. "I assume you'll be making my excuses for me at training in the morning," he adds.
Arthur hums noncommittally, and the string of kisses he plants across Gwaine's shoulder to his throat distract him from the ridiculousness of what Arthur says next. "Tell 'em you pulled a muscle in your groin."
Merlin snorts. "And no one will see through that, I'm sure."
Normally Gwaine would be on board with any mocking, but Arthur's hand has strayed below his belt, and Gwaine is thinking of little else. He turns his head a little and Arthur snatches a kiss. They're both distracted when a hum of magic passes over them, and then Gwaine is very aware of Arthur's nakedness against his back, his own skin shamelessly hot and bare under Arthur's fingers.
Gwaine leans further into Arthur, utterly content. His king and their sorcerer. Or hell, his sorcerer and their king. Or maybe, he thinks, as Arthur and Merlin have a whole conversation in a single glance, maybe a sorcerer, a king, and their knight. Gwaine will take it any way he can get it, he thinks happily as Merlin finally shuffles up to join them in their embrace, arms sliding around Gwaine so his fingers can skitter over Arthur's ribs.
When Merlin's lips catch Gwaine's in a softly lingering kiss, Arthur makes a contented noise and says, "That's perfect. Don't stop that." His weight goes from the bed abruptly.
Gone to get the oil, Gwaine thinks, and he's glad of it. He does as Arthur said, keeps on kissing Merlin slow and soft, whispering in between kisses, "You two planned this, didn't you?"
Merlin smiles against his mouth. "We might have had a conversation."
"Or five," Arthur says. "Don't be coy now, Merlin, not the way you've been talking."
Merlin laughs and makes a rude gesture at Arthur before he turns back to Gwaine and says, almost apologetic, "It's just the way you look when you're taking it."
"So," Arthur says briskly, and the business-like tone should not be sexy but Gwaine hears it in training or at court every day, and it makes him think of moments like this. "How're we going to do this?"
"Um – " Merlin looks blank and goes back to kissing Gwaine.
"Helpful," Arthur tuts, pushing Merlin back by his shoulder. "I think – yeah, Merlin, you lean back against the pillows and that way I can sort of bend him over you and –"
"I am still here, you know," Gwaine says.
Merlin gives him a familiar smile, fond and wicked all at once and asks, "How could we forget?"
"Oh, I don't know," Arthur teases. "It takes a bit of effort, but I usually manage."
"Hey," Merlin chastises. "Be nice."
"Merlin, I am always nice."
Gwaine clears his throat pointedly. "If you're finished flirting, it'd be nice if one of both of you could shag me before we all die of old age."
Merlin laughs when Arthur's response is to start working two fingers into Gwaine with nothing in the way of warning. Gwaine's jaw drops and his complaint trails off into a happy hum. Arthur is...not rushed, but...purposeful, that's the word. He's very purposeful. Merlin's hands flutter over Gwaine's face and shoulders as Arthur opens him, his soft lips shaping silent encouragement against Gwaine's skin.
Gwaine feels like pulling away from Arthur's hand and taking Merlin's dick right now. The want is like a scrabbling thing inside him, eager and insistent. But he waits, thinks about how sparring with Arthur – whatever form that takes – means always having to think three steps ahead.
Eventually when Gwaine is gasping, kissing Merlin to stop himself saying something truly nonsensical, open around three of Arthur's fingers, shuddering at the careful touch of Arthur's other hand feeling the stretch, Arthur nips at his earlobe and says, "Alright."
Gwaine nods, feeling two sets of hands on him, urging him up and forward. He bites his lip as Merlin fills him, a moan slipping out as Arthur's hands fall onto his shoulders, firm, urging him down. Fuck, that gets him every time and Arthur knows it, the bastard. Gwaine tips his head back to glare at Arthur but finds him dark-eyed and flushed, not nearly as smug as Gwaine was expecting. What else can he do but kiss Arthur?
Arthur's fingers go tight in his hair and Gwaine feels Merlin clutching at his thigh. Merlin's hips arch powerfully and Gwaine cries out into Arthur's mouth.
"Oh, fuck," Merlin says in a tight voice. "Fuck."
Gwaine knows that tone; any second now Merlin is going to lose sight of their plans and start shagging Gwaine senseless.
"Merlin," Arthur says sharply. "Don't. You. Dare."
"Well hurry up, then," Merlin protests. "And stop groping each other, god."
Gwaine can't help grinning at that, rolling his hips experimentally, feeling the answering thrust from Merlin. Arthur cups Gwaine's cock, pressing it to his stomach and nipping his ear.
"Don't encourage him, you."
"Well, I have to second Merlin's suggestion that you hurry it up, princess," Gwaine tells him.
"Don't call me that," Arthur gripes, but it lacks the venom of old.
It takes ages. Ages of Merlin filling him and Arthur's fingers playing delicately around his stretched rim. They're looking at each other, Gwaine knows even though his eyes are closed. There's no other explanation for the synchronicity of their movements, Merlin wriggling his hips under Gwaine, giving Arthur the space to slide a slicked finger in alongside his cock.
One feels fine, two is a bit of a stretch, but three is a burn, and Gwaine has to gasp out, "Stop, wait, wait." He hates having to do it, but when Arthur kisses across his shoulder-blades, already sounding shaky and breathless, Gwaine doesn't feel too bad.
"That," Merlin starts hesitantly. "That feels – God, you – both of you."
Gwaine opens his eyes to look down at Merlin speculatively. Wonders what that's like, imagines being deep inside Merlin with Arthur's fingers squeezed tight up against him. He recognises dimly that turn-about is almost certainly something he can demand now. Of Merlin, that would be easier, and then Merlin will have next to no trouble persuading Arthur to take a turn. And that...that would be little short of miraculous, the two of them taking Arthur apart like that.
The thoughts help Gwaine through it, help him breathe and steady himself. Just a little. Just enough. Arthur stays at three fingers for a while. It's no surprise that he revels in any situation that allows him to tease both Gwaine and Merlin to within an inch of their lives. He plays around for a good long time, his other hand sliding from Gwaine's body to Merlin's and back again.
"Ready?" Arthur asks after a while and it takes a while for the word to make sense to Gwaine. "Hey." Arthur pushes Gwaine's hair back from his face. "Ready to try?"
"Yeah – " Gwaine says, and his voice breaks on the word. He clears his throat. "Yes."
"Shift up," Arthur tells him and Gwaine does, until Merlin's just barely in him at all. Gwaine's thighs ache holding himself like this, and Merlin can read his mind, he must be able to, because his long fingers rub at the sore muscles. Gwaine groans gratefully and it catches in his throat when Arthur starts pushing inside as well. Fuck it's so much.
"Arthur –" Merlin says. "Careful, careful –"
"He is," Gwaine manages to say, and he can feel Arthur's smile against his throat. It's typical really, that Gwaine will rush into something like this and only realise halfway in what volumes it speaks about how much he trusts his men.
It's achingly slow, a blunt pressure that's – surely it's going to be too much; he just won't be able to take it. Something in him clenches at that and he can feel himself tightening up around them.
"Shit – fuck, Arthur –" Gwaine slurs, and he feels Arthur take hold of his hand, squeezing his fingers tight.
"We can stop," Arthur offers.
"No," Gwaine says instantly. "No, don't."
"Gwaine –"
"I said don't stop," Gwaine says, squeezing his eyes tight shut and pushing the words out through gritted teeth. It's somehow become very important that they get this right. Gwaine isn't one for metaphors, especially not when it comes to sex, which he's always thought should be as raw and uncomplicated as possible. These two, though. They make everything different, and being able to take them both will mean something more than testing his body to its limits.
Merlin mouths kisses along his temple and says, teasing, "Don't cheat. Let me see you."
Merlin can read Gwaine's mood at a glance. But Arthur can know his body with less than that. When they met, Gwaine's fighting style had been unorthodox to say the least, and though he still resorts to his old tricks when he needs to, he has to admit that he's learned a lot from Arthur. And Arthur has learned a lot about Gwaine from training him.
"Merlin," he says soft and stern.
Merlin shuts up, breathes an apology into Gwaine's jaw. Arthur just waits, his hand an anchor at Gwaine's hip. And then he slides his other hand up, covers Gwaine's eyes and that is suddenly, inexplicably better.
"See?" Arthur says. "I told you. Helps you focus."
Gwaine huffs a laugh. Every now and then, Arthur will don a blindfold and show everyone that even blind he can still win. Since Arthur realised the sight is enough to make Gwaine's armour even more uncomfortable than usual, the number of demonstrations has increased. A couple of times Arthur has oh-so-casually asked Gwaine to help him with the blindfold and Gwaine has been worse than useless for the whole training session.
"Lies," Gwaine says, relaxing now, with Arthur's fingers blocking the light. "You do that to upset me and you know it."
"Last time you got drunk you told me you wanted him to wear that blindfold while you sucked him off," Merlin chimes in helpfully.
Arthur's soft laughter ruffles Gwaine's hair. "I'll remember that," he promises.
Gwaine just tips his head back gently, fuzzy light showing through Arthur's fingers for a second before he blocks it again. He rests his head against Arthur's shoulder and Arthur kisses the edge of his eyebrow, holds him there for a long moment. Maybe he is right, damn him, because Gwaine feels calmer now, the weird panicked edge to his arousal dulling.
Arthur edges his hand away from Gwaine's eyes and asks, "That's better, isn't it?"
Gwaine nods. It is better. He feels lulled by Arthur's hands on him, Merlin watching them with careful blue eyes. It is wonderfully unnerving to be the focus of their attention like this. It takes a little longer still, Arthur pushing in in slow, slow increments. Finally though, finally, he stops and Gwaine can't resist reaching a trembling hand down, touching the space where they're both in him.
"Gwaine –" Arthur gasps out and the flexing of his hips is probably involuntary. It still makes Gwaine shudder though, an insistent bolt of pleasure, and he closes his eyes, moans sharply when Merlin reaches forward to kiss his open mouth.
"Sorry, sorry," Merlin says, but Gwaine snatches at his hair, breathes against his lips. The sloppy kiss feels like a lifeline in the same way as Arthur's hands, strong and capable on his hips.
"Good," Arthur says, kissing Gwaine's shoulder. "That's good, that's –"
Gwaine feels Merlin reach around him to touch Arthur and Gwaine imagines the picture they must make, feels this joining more than any other makes them truly one. It's heady and for all that Gwaine doesn't quite dare to move, it feels powerful. Because with just his body he can make them like this, tender and careful and unless he's very much mistaken, a little awestruck.
"You're perfect; you're – god, Arthur, look at him."
Gwaine swallows around the hard lump in his throat. It feels good now, but with the promise of how fucking sore he's going to be later twisting underneath it.
"You might have to knight him all over again," Merlin suggests and Gwaine laughs, gives Arthur's hand a don't you dare kind of squeeze.
"Magical blessing," Arthur suggests, kissing behind Gwaine's ear. "Keys to the kingdom. Your tavern bill for the rest of your life. I'll think of something."
"I'll – take the last one," Gwaine says, and it's an enormous effort just to think straight long enough to take the piss like usual. The reward – Arthur shaking with barely suppressed laughter, and Merlin kissing him like Gwaine pinned the stars to the heavens – is well worth it.
"God," Merlin says. "Gwaine, I can't believe you –"
"I can," Arthur says. "I told you." His voice is low in Gwaine's ear, teasing but laced with affection. "Gwaine can do anything."
"Yeah," Merlin agrees. "It just – must feel mad," he says.
Gwaine nods. "Pretty mad. You should try it."
"Yeah. Maybe. Yes."
"Hear that?" Gwaine asks Arthur.
"Certainly did. You know we'll be holding you to that."
Merlin laughs, pinches Arthur's ribs if the resulting, hey! is anything to go by. "One thing at a time, sire."
"Don't go swelling that pretty head of his," Gwaine scolds Merlin. "He's bad enough as it is."
"Well if you can manage to mock," Arthur says.
"Always," Gwaine says. "Sire."
Gwaine gets no warning before Arthur rolls his hips more deliberately this time. Gwaine can feel every inch of the movement as he clutches at Merlin's shoulders and tries to breathe. He feels like he might shake right apart, not helped by Merlin, moaning low and a bit wild, "oh, oh, Arthur, I can feel you, I can – " Gwaine grabs a handful of his hair and Merlin gets the hint, keeping quiet for a minute, his palms rubbing over Gwaine's chest and ribs.
Arthur curls his fingers around Gwaine's jaw and gently tips his head back. Merlin has gone wild-eyed and breathless but Arthur sounds impossibly gentle, impeccably in control as he says, "Gwaine? Alright?"
"Yes," Gwaine says on a huff of breath. "Yes, just – just let me breathe."
Arthur's other hand moves over his arm in a firm caress and Gwaine lets his head drop. He can feel fingers on his face and he can tell they belong to Merlin without even thinking about it.
"He's so –" Merlin says softly.
"I know," Arthur tells him. "God, I know."
Gwaine feels – well, he feels stretched and a little sore, more the promise of an ache than anything else. But there's a fierce joy in it too, in taking what they have to give and reducing them both to near silence that sounds awed. It feels out of this world, and now he's a little calmer and the initial burn has eased, Gwaine can feel...everything. He can feel them both inside him; can tell where Arthur ends and Merlin begins. Gwaine gets a little dizzy when he thinks how much he has to stretch his fingers to not-quite wrap around both their dicks and the awareness grows to a sharp point. He has them both. Inside.
Arthur rocks his hips and completely destroys Gwaine's line of thought. "Merlin," he says sharply. "Work with me."
It's only then that Gwaine realises Merlin is slack-jawed, looking as dumbfounded as Gwaine feels. It takes a while, and a bit of sniping at each other over Gwaine's shoulder about who exactly is doing it wrong, but Arthur and Merlin eventually manage to establish something that could tentatively be called a rhythm. It's nothing like as enthusiastic as usual – not a complaint, by the by – but Gwaine feels like every part of his body is hyper-aware of what's happening. He can feel the slow burn of pleasure in his fucking fingernails, it's so immense. Merlin is moving in shallow thrusts that would normally have Gwaine complaining. Except then there's Arthur, too. He's moving slower but deeper, sliding his cock along Merlin's.
"God, that is – so tight," Arthur says through gritted teeth.
Gwaine tries to laugh but all that comes out is a huff of air. He gropes valiantly for words and manages to say, "I'm so glad our king isn't just a pretty face."
Merlin bites his lip on a giggle and Gwaine turns his head back to butt his cheek against Arthur's and force out the words, "Tight, honestly, what were you expecting, genius?"
"I was kind of expecting this to shut you up," Arthur admits, but his hand is gentle as it slides on Gwaine's stomach, fingers tracing his muscles delicately.
Gwaine knows he lost his erection at some point during the penetration, but being pinned between the two of them like this is reawakening it. And the pressure in his arse is becoming something more than overwhelming, becoming really fucking good. It's different from getting fucked normally, and Gwaine can't say he'd want it this way all the time. But god, it's – he is going to have to become more proficient at sexual metaphors, obviously, because this is something for which surely no words can yet exist.
It's as though someone's taken all the usual words like bliss and ache and surrender, added in a few new ones like owned and falling, and then honed them, pared them down to the very essence of what they are. I should be a bard, he thinks, quietly mocking his own romantic streak. Deciding it's past time he got a little more involved with the proceedings, Gwaine steadies himself with one hand on Merlin's shoulder, the other stretched up and back to tangle in Arthur's hair.
The next time Arthur draws back, Gwaine shifts against the motion, his thighs screaming a protest as he lifts himself higher. The push when he lowers himself feels new all over again and Gwaine feels smug at his good idea, at Arthur's shocked laugh in his ear and the way Merlin clutches at him, abrupt and just the right side of painful.
God, I love them, Gwaine thinks. I love them so much.
And then he's lost to it, to the tangle of their bodies, to the spoken and wordless encouragement both. It's a different manner of pleasure than what's usual, more a constant thrum than the normal jagged-edged rush. This sensation of overwhelming fullness is its own kind of satisfaction, and they way the two of them are moving is wonderful just for the whispers and touches they use to guide each other, careful even though their shuddering tension gives away how turned on they are.
Merlin loses it first, their names getting tangled up in his mouth, the sharp thrust of his hips as he comes making Gwaine cry out. Gwaine wasn't expecting the shaky blur of pleasure when Merlin pulls out of him, nor the way the movement would affect Arthur, the dry, shuddering breath that edges on a sob. Gwaine feels – god, embarrassing to even think it – empty down there, until Arthur rolls his hips deep and Gwaine shouts, tender and over-sensitised.
"Fuck, that's amazing," Arthur says in a tiny voice.
Gwaine feels like a puppet with the strings cut and only realises that he's come when he feels Merlin's fingers stroking across his belly, wet with Gwaine's seed. Arthur's saying something into his ear, voice low and urgent and Gwaine grudgingly scrapes his brain together enough to listen.
"– stop, I can stop, do you need me to – "
And he would, too. Wrecked and urgent as he sounds he'd stop if Gwaine told him to. Gwaine can't bring himself to do it, feels something in himself which is relishing the ache and the stretch. He shakes his head.
"You can finish up," he tells Arthur. "Just don't drag it out, yeah?"
Arthur's laughter sounds strangled. "Not much chance of that."
Merlin's hands catch hold of Gwaine's wrists, bracing him while Arthur fucks him in smooth, slow movements. Gwaine can't help the breathy whines when Arthur moves inside him. He juts his chin forward and Merlin kisses him, both laughing as Arthur groans out encouragement.
"Does it – " Merlin gasps, looking over Gwaine's shoulder at Arthur. "How does it feel? Is he – god, can you feel me still?"
"Merlin!" Arthur sounds annoyed at the way that pushes him over the edge, but Gwaine feels stupidly accomplished, like the first time he won a fair fight, or felt worthy of his knighthood.
Afterwards they're almost absurdly gentle with him, Merlin petting him clumsily while Arthur pads across the room and comes back with a cloth and water. Gwaine still feels out of his head in the aftermath. He can hear them murmuring to each other as they attend to him, but he can't make out the words. It's almost too much, and his throat feels tight for a moment until Arthur kisses him, slow and languid, pecks that trail off into just the lightest brush of Arthur's mouth against his own. Gwaine fumbles one hand into Arthur's hair and reaches the other out for Merlin, finding hot skin and the thump of his heartbeat.
In the morning – if it can be called that when it's still pitch black outside; Gwaine would argue most definitely not – Arthur wakes first, guided by the same strange internal alarm as always. Gwaine hears him move and pushes himself up on his elbows before attempting to swing his legs out of bed, utterly failing to hide a wince.
"What are you doing, you idiot?" Arthur demands.
"I'm – training," Gwaine mumbles. "Dutiful knight and all that."
Arthur is unexpectedly gentle again as he pushes Gwaine back into the bed and the warmth of Merlin's arms. "You're excused, you ridiculous man," he says. "Go back to sleep. I'll have some breakfast sent up for you both at a more reasonable hour."
Gwaine doesn't need telling twice and he starts dozing off again to the sounds of Arthur moving around the room.
"Hey," he calls when Arthur is about to leave.
"What?"
"Come back soon?"
The smile Arthur gives him then is indescribably bright and Gwaine lets it warm him. As the door closes behind Arthur, Merlin's arm goes around Gwaine and squeezes him close.
"You loooove him," Merlin croons against the back of Gwaine's neck.
"Well, what of it? So do you," Gwaine says, settling back into Merlin's hold.
Christmas is for porn, right? Right!