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Beltane's Fire

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Arthur shouldn't be here.

The forest that should be so peaceful, so quiet in the pitch of the night is none of that tonight. There are laughs and songs sang in joyful voices all around him. Women who sing like birds since the first day of Spring, men who play the rhythmic music, all of them dancing and laughing around the big fire that has been started in the center of a Vale.

They are, all of them, masked faces, red shadows, in the heart of that very small Val, deep into the forest, hidden between the trees, the new and fresh leaves keeping them safe from the world around.

It is Beltane Night.

Arthur doesn't know a lot about Beltane Night, just that celebrating it in Camelot is forbidden. Too many sorcerers, too many beliefs that make you confused, that make you think wrongly, that make you want for the forbidden, for the unreachable.

Though, he is here now, sitting on a stump, drinking some cider he said he would refuse whatever happened. That could be poison! But if it is, it is a really tasty one. So, he is here, in the heart of Camelot, surrounded by Beltane’s believers. Here, disobeying his father, by sitting and looking, drinking and enjoying. One of the sinners himself, not respecting the law of Camelot, of his father.
He didn't want to be here in the first place, he wouldn't have been if not for Morgana. He would never disobey his father and should be the one actually chasing away those people, those breakers of the law, then letting his father judge them. Death; that only word in his father’s mouth that has always made him shudder. But he couldn't and wouldn't. He is here because of Morgana.

He has to admit he wishes he wasn't so weak in front of her. He knows he could fight her, he knows he could have prevented her from coming here, but, really, when Morgana is looking at him with those eyes of hers, those grey pearls as strong as the storm that always scream right into his face what she would never tell him because she cares even if she doesn't want to admit it, as much as he does and will never say a word aloud, he just can't refuse her.

She just turned sixteen last month. Her birthday party had been a disaster. Father had promised her a wonderful party and couldn’t keep to his word because of a new conflict with Mercia’s Army at the borderline. Morgana had cried for days, Arthur knows she did, even if she had pretended she understood. Women never understand war; never accept it as the inescapable and perhaps they are right.

Arthur sighs and keeps on drinking that delicious cider; he will have to ask for some in Camelot. He certainly looks like a fool sitting on his own when everybody is enjoying themselves, some women even asked him to dance and seemed surprised or hurt when he refused, but Arthur isn’t here for his pleasure, he is here to keep an eye on Morgana.

Morgana has never been as beautiful as tonight. She is dancing with the other women around her, spinning, twirling around, and her deep wine red gown flying around her small but already womanly figure like a cloud. Her long black curls are flying around her oval shaped face, her cherry-red lips opened in a smile, while she is dancing with all the sinners. Her skilled naked feet on the grass are enchanting.

Morgana has never been as happy as tonight, her smile so brilliant, and her eyes so alive. She looks around her for a moment and finds him again, smiles at him. This is that precious smile, the one that reaches her eyes that Arthur and her servant alone are gratified with. So, Arthur couldn't really mind and reproaches her that they came here, that he didn't prevent it, that he betrayed his father's thrust. He has never seen her happier. So, he couldn't be happier himself.

"She is really beautiful," said a voice behind him and Arthur nearly jumps out of his skin.

He hasn't heard the man coming behind him; he should have because Prince Arthur is never caught off guard, never. It could cost him his life especially here, especially surrounded by sorcerers, by druids, by people who hate his father and himself more than anything else in the kingdom. He would be a too easy target. He knows that. He has to be more careful.

Arthur swears between his gritted teeth.

"Sorry," smiles the man "I didn't mean to scare you."

The man actually has the guts to laugh at him and the presumptuousness to sit next to him, on the too small stump, not even asking in the first place if he was welcomed and he wasn’t! That annoyed Arthur deeply.

"You didn't," growls Arthur because really could Prince Arthur, the fearless knight, be afraid of that scarecrow.

The man, who is actually a boy, because he couldn’t be more than thirteen, was all bones and angles. Limbs far too long, that body seems definitely too big for him in the first place.

"Sure." he laughs, clearly not believing him, "nothing could scare a man like you, strong as a rock!"
Now, the scarecrow boy is clearly making fun of him and Arthur wouldn't let him have his way with him like that. Though Arthur couldn’t pretend not to see that the boy actually have a really beautiful smile, he isn’t actually used to people talking to him and laughing with him, at him, so openly. It is ridiculous but he already kind of like the boy’s laugh. All white pearly teeth and lips, pretty pink lips, some princesses would gladly kill for.

Arthur frowns. He clearly doesn’t know where that came from.

"So, you came with her?" the boy shows Morgana from a gesture of the chin, not even leaving Arthur some time to protest about the teasing.

Arthur doesn’t look at Morgana first but at the boy’s profile, he has to admit that the boy has actually a rather nice face, open and honest. Though the ears are clearly too big, how come his ears have been able to grow that much? Arthur couldn’t tell why he thinks so but he has learnt really early to read through people for his security. He couldn’t say much because of the mask the boy is wearing, all brown feathers.

Though, he clearly knows what the boy was up for.

"Stop looking at her" Arthur growls, his protectiveness for Morgana stronger than him. And no, he never had a crush on her, thank you very much! Imagining Morgana as his Queen one day nearly makes him want to cry; it would be scarring!

The boy smiles at him, clearly mocking him again.

"Jealous and possessive, aren't we?” the boy teased again “You know, if you don't want people to abduct her you should better stand next to her or dance with her so they'd know you belong to each other."

"We don’t belong to each other!” exclaims Arthur “She's my sister!"

Morgana actually isn’t his sister but his father has always told him that Morgana was like a sister to him since the day she came to live in Camelot. He insisted that Arthur also has to treat her well and nicely, it seems though he never had this conversation with the girl because she definitely doesn’t treat him well and nicely. Really.

"Yeah?" asked the boy a new smile, a rather brilliant one, lit his face "I thought she was your woman. You don't look like family to me."

Arthur rolls his eyes. How could the boy even know? They are all wearing masks to keep their identity secrets. Kind of scary and weird actually. Aren't those people sharing the same love for Beltane here so why do they feel like they have to hide from each other? Perhaps not to been seen betraying the king? Perhaps not to be identifiable in the morning? That makes sense.

He is rather happy about it himself though because he doesn’t want to risk anyone recognizing him tonight. He is pretty sure nobody here has already seen the Prince of Camelot but a man cannot be too careful.

"It doesn't mean you can go and jump her, you know?" Arthur threatens.

Whatever, Arthur is sure Morgana wouldn’t even look at the boy. She likes more fitting men, like knights, or princes, doesn’t she? She could take the boy as a pet though; she has always had a thing for freaks.

The boy smiles again, a malicious smile. Arthur will have to deal with that smile of his earlier than later. The question is how? Punching those lips sounds criminal. And then, even if annoying, the boy is kind of kind and warmhearted.

"I wouldn't dare, dear anonymous," he teases him again "I'm pretty sure if you don't cut my throat, she will."

Arthur arches an eyebrow not that the boy could see it because of his mask.

"She is unreachable, everybody can see that," he explains “Everybody can see you keeping watch over her dangerously."

He laughs and Arthur thinks he never heard anything as lovely before. The boy seems to be someone simple, a peasant, but it looks like he enjoys the life, embraces it, whatever it brings him.

“You seemed to be too,” the boy whispers.

“What?” asks Arthur, he clearly has lost the track of the conversation.

“Unreachable,” answers the boy.

Now Arthur is completely lost himself. What does the boy mean?

They sit together in silence for a while, it isn’t an uncomfortable silence, and actually it feels rather good to have someone sitting next to you. They watch people dance; listen to the strange songs, some of which Arthur has never heard before. The boy doesn't know how to sing, it was actually a real disaster but he really seems to enjoy himself though.

"Oh, come on, stop it, will you?" asks Arthur an unknown smile on his lips, "You sound like a slaughtered pig."

The boy looks at him surprised, and then smiles at him, a very different smile, a mischievous smile Arthur would have said.

"Why don't you make me?" he asks very seriously.

"I beg your pardon?" asks Arthur skeptical. Is the boy actually provoking him? Is that a challenge? That would be really ridiculous and fool hearted from the boy. Is he daring Arthur to actually make him shut up like he used to work on his father’s knights? Is that what the boy wants, because if he does, he certainly is already drunk. He doesn’t understand what he is asking for, what he risks. The king’s knights are strong men and some of them can barely keep his cadence so he'd gobble the midget up in one bite.

But Arthur doesn’t have more time to say anything else, no more thinking either, because the boy's soft and warm lips are on his in a second, shy and demanding, and Arthur just still doesn't get it.
What is happening?

Sure, Arthur isn't pure and innocent; he was sixteen after all! It has happened before with some friends, some knights even; fooling around; sloppy kisses but never with a stranger, never.
He shouldn't allow that, he really shouldn't.

But his lips don't seem inclined to follow his orders like his hands always obediently do during a fight.
The boy is now whimpering, his mouth gently opening against Arthur’s, gently kissing Arthur's lips, softly sucking on each one, his throat making all sort of adorable noises, asking for more, for sharing. A strangely shy tongue, wet and so warm, is probing against Arthur’s teeth, begging to be allowed entrance and Arthur really doesn’t get what is happening and why it is happening but a second before pushing the boy away, he is pretty sure it was the order he gave his loyal hands, and he was kissing the boy fully on the lips, sucking on his tongue like a starved man.

This is humiliating the want he feels in his stomach, the need for that boy he doesn’t even know. The boy moans deeply in his throat and Arthur can’t care less about honor and chivalry. The boy tastes wonderfully, something fresh and sugary. Like honey and apple. Like need. Like want. Like a promise.
The boy pushes Arthur away to catch his breath and Arthur curses him for not knowing to breathe through his nose because he really doesn’t want to waste time to breathe when they could be kissing again.

"Please," the boy pants between each kiss, pecking Arthur on the lips, on his strong jaw, on the neck and Arthur doesn't get why he is begging him, not until one long and white hand, a trembling hand, is caressing his, not until the boy makes him get up, interlacing their fingers, and follow him into the forest.

He thinks about Morgana, torn between his duty to her and the need for following that bewitching boy. He couldn't leave Morgana alone; he has to stay with her, who knows what could happen to her.
"Don't worry about her," the boy gently whispers in his ear, sucking on his earlobe, and who would have thought it would be so wonderful, "Nobody would do anything to her that she doesn't want in the first place. The goddess watches over us all. It is Beltane Night. The night when you give, not take.”

"Is it?" asks Arthur really seriously, "Is it the night you go into the darkness of the wood following some stranger to have sex with?"

The boy clearly blushes under the mask, biting on his lower lip. He is endearing, Arthur couldn’t deny it.

"It is the perfect night to share," the boy answers, his insecure hands now on Arthur's hips gently stroking "I thought you wouldn’t mind me taking care of you."

Arthur wouldn't mind it at all. He likes how the boy can be so adventurous yet so insecure at the same time. He is looking at him, enthralled by those perfect pink lips already swollen from their first messy kisses. Arthur bends his head and catches the boy's soft lips between his and gently kisses them, just little pecks that seemed to make the boy hungrier, he whimpers against his lips letting him having his way with him.

"I like that," he whispers.

It seems to Arthur the boy just couldn't shut up for more than two minutes in a row.

"Like what? Me kissing you?" he smirks.

"That too," smiles the boy and Arthur can see when that smile reaches the eyes. Beautiful and enchanting eyes, they are. Two pools, two blue, blue eyes more beautiful than anything Arthur has ever seen. None of Morgana’s colorful gowns could compare with that color. And this is unfair because Arthur doesn’t know anymore what is the more appealing, those blue eyes or those pink lips.

"You're a real mystery to me," whispers Arthur.

The boy grins.

"I am to myself sometimes,” the boy admits, whispering his confidence in Arthur’s ear “or I wouldn't have come to you tonight. I was so sure she was with you and she is so beautiful. I just felt so envious she would be the one ending the night in your arms. I never felt like this before."

The boy’s breath is so warm, his words like some elixir, and he is a temptation Arthur shouldn’t give in to. Arthur groans, though, his powerful hands landing, possessive, hungry, on the small of the boy’s back, really needy now.

"I really thought you would push me away,” adds the boy now biting those attractive lips looking at him “but you didn't and then ... then... you gave me hope.”

The boy kissed him on the cheek, a so-chaste kiss, full of something Arthur just doesn’t want to name, that it moves Arthur really deeply. He is able to feel his cheeks reddening and hopes the boy wouldn’t feel it on his lips. Lips shortly accompanied by tongue and teeth. The boy seems to want to taste all of him. He is now biting and licking his way along Arthur’s throat and through Arthur's tunic clearly having decided to take it off and he does. He is definitely kind of skilled with his long and gentle fingers.

"Are you sure?" Arthur whispers. He knows where all of this is leading, “How old are you?”

The boy was the one who came to him in the first place, it was him who tried to seduce, who kissed him in the first place but Arthur has to be sure, to hear him say so, to acknowledge.

“Old enough,” the boy blows through those lascivious lips now full of Arthur’s nipples.

"I never wanted anything as much as you..." the boy is now panting, his nose slowly brushing against Arthur’s abdominal muscles while his tongue is licking at his belly.

Arthur is now feeling it really difficult to breath. His hands have landed on the boys shoulder, keeping the boy kneeling in front of him.

“Your mouth can be so spiteful, your eyes so hard, but then sometimes it's just a sparkle and I can see what a different man you can be, how you are deep down,” One of the boy’s hands is on his heart feeling the speeding beating, the other one working on his pants, “You're so full of contradictions. And I like that."

Arthur likes to think that the boy actually really likes him, the true Arthur he can’t be to the face of the world and he likes even more what he is actually doing, gently kissing and licking his already hard and burning length.

The boy had, at first, tried tentatively to swallow the head of his length and then little by little, tried to gobble up a little more.

“I never thought you’d be so huge,” the boy has whispered, his jaw apparently tiring and Arthur had really wanted to say that he never thought he would find a lover who just couldn’t shut his mouth and enjoy himself properly. But that wouldn’t have been nice. Instead, he just had slipped his hand into the boy’s dark and messy hair and had gently petted him.

Now, the boy clearly grateful for the attention, is sucking hard on Arthur's cock, making noises that should not be forbidden, as if he was the one pleasured here and not Arthur; his tender lips around Arthur’s most tender flesh, a hard mouth against that hard and full length, clumsy teeth sometimes messing the work but making the whole even more enjoyable.

"Stop… I'll..." warns Arthur.

He definitely doesn’t want to make the poor and not that much experienced boy swallow or, worse, gag.

"I don't mind," the boy answers him, lips nearly as red as his cheeks now.

"I don’t want you to…" admits Arthur, then biting his lips he adds “I want to be in you.”

Arthur has never had sex before. Well, he had messed around but never had he thought about the penetration part that much. But, now, he is craving for the boy, he is so hungry for his body, for it to be all his.

"Yes…” whispers the boy “Please, yes."

Arthur joins the boy on his knees, now kneeling in front of him, gently brushing his fingers on the boy’s face, on his long and nearly feminine neck. He is so grateful the boy seems to think he is worth giving himself to him. They are both virgins, Arthur knows, and it makes the moment, the sharing, even more beautiful.

Gently they undress each other, throwing their clothes away. They still hear the songs and the cries of all the people around them but it feels like they’re the only ones on this world. The moment is unique, precious and so fragile.

Lying on the grass, they come to each other naturally; their bodies seem to fit perfectly. This is the first time Arthur is feeling a naked body against his skin and it feels wonderful. All that paleness lying trustfully in front of him, a milky skin against his darker body, a body so elegant and so fragile between his strong and powerful hands. It is overwhelming.

They lay on the ground still cold of the winter, entwined, sharing their bodies’ warmth, and holding on to each other, drowning into each other warmth, pleasure and passion, trust and love.

Arthur is kissing, licking every part of that lovely body, discovering indeed that he had a thing for slender legs and elegant ankles. Who would have thought a prince would kiss some peasant’s feet? But in his defense Arthur has to say that the boy’s feet are actually really charming though a little cold.

Arthur gently spreads the boy’s legs to take place between them, kissing his way through those long and white legs, he feels him shudder.

“Don’t be afraid,” he whispers against the skin of the boy’s thigh “I’ll be gentle.”

“I’m not afraid,” the boy mumbles, “I can’t wait anymore.”

Arthur smiles, loving that his boy could be so shy and eager at the same time.

When his tongue finds his way to the boy’s hole, Arthur hums, satisfied. He licks, sucks, and bites the soft skin, drawing strange patterns, slowly but meticulously. This is an unexplored territory, a journey Arthur is more than up for. He pushes at the tender flesh with his tongue, slowly probing through the resistance, when he feels he is as deep as his tongue can get, he twirls his tongue hungrily and bites at the soft skin.

The boy cries aloud for the very first time. Arthurs has to stop to make sure the boy is alright even if he has to be, wasn’t he? He couldn’t have hurt him in this way? Or perhaps was it the bite? Arthur has always had a thing for biting but never was too confident about his teeth. They are kind of strange, aren’t they?

“Did I hurt you?” asks Arthur, a little scared now.

“No…” barely whispers the boy, not daring to look at him and Arthur feels something hurtful squeezes his heart “It’s just… It felt so good, what you did…”

And lying here is the boy Arthur fell for, all shyness and daring, all softness and eager.

Arthur gently kisses his wrist, letting his fingers replace his tongue to prepare the boy for himself. He wants him to be as much prepared as he can be. Arthur has never done that before but knows enough about what some older knights told him and he knows it’ll have to hurt. He just doesn’t know how much it’ll hurt and if in the end it is worth it the suffering. The men he talked too seemed to think so. Arthur just wanted to make it good for the boy, to give as much as he already received from him and so much more.

The boy is grasping the grass, trying not to succumb apparently and he bites hard on his free hand to deaden a cry.

"Don’t!” Arthur says, gently massaging and then kissing the molested skin “Don't hurt yourself. I want to hear you; I want you to give me your voice, all of you. Hold on to me, me and nothing else. Would you do that?”

The boy does, happily, his hands now running through Arthur’s blond hair, humming, cursing, and moaning. He is a talker and a loud one at that and Arthur likes every second of that.

“So much better,” the boy shamelessly moans in Arthur’s ear.

Arthur has to laugh because the boy just can’t stand, it seems, to keep his mouth shut. And really, Arthur shouldn’t think about those lips and what they’re able to, because he is already painfully hard again.

“Ready?” Arthur gently asks kissing the boy lovingly on the mouth.

The boy eagerly nods, his feet already caressing Arthur’s calves impatiently.

Carefully Arthur probes at the boy’s hole, gently pushing in, entering him slowly inch by inch. The boy shudders and stops drawing breath.

“Breathe” Arthur gasps between gritted teeth.

It is already feeling amazing and Arthur himself can barely dare to breathe. But he has to think about the boy firstly and not breathing isn’t a good idea. Now that he feels he is deep into the boy’s hole, the boy feeling just so tight around him, he has to make him relax.

He murmurs gentle words as he had never before, kissing him gently, letting their tongues play together. It was not just sex, it was about sharing.

They are still kissing, fingers tightly entwined, when Arthur dares to move again, really slowly at first. They whimper at the same time, the feeling overwhelming them. Unhurriedly, they create a path, a rhythm, peculiar and enjoyable to them. Bit by bit, Arthur’s thrusts begin to be more frantic, more demanding, but the boy is now more than happy to take it, to welcome it, moaning pleasantly. They thrust together, meeting halfway, their wet skins sliding against each other, bathing them in the green grass, listening to their panting louder to their ears than the singing going on next to the fire.
The boy’s hands are still on Arthur’s back, now scratching and bringing blood, holding on Arthur like his life depended of Arthur’s proximity, of Arthur thrusting deep into him. Arthur is losing it; he knows he won’t last any longer. The boy is eating all of him and he is giving it freely.

Arthur's hand easily finds the boy's engorge length, thinner than his for sure but still longer though. He squeezes it, wanks it rather vigorously and the boy is now crying, begging for more, for release and Arthur’s giving it to him.

The boy empties himself into Arthur’s hand covering both of their chests with his milky juice, trembling from head to toes. Arthur couldn't take it any longer, not when the boys cries aloud, not when his abused hole tightened around his too sensitive length now.

Arthur tries to withdraw.

"No” the boy pleads holding Arthur tight against him “come in me, please."

And how could Arthur refuse anything to his pretty boy? He buries himself one, two, three more times into the welcomed and hot boy’s body, and with a guttural growl, biting hard on the gracile neck, he frees himself.

He keeps on thrusting gently, slowly, into the now wet path, whimpering like a hurt man and gently licking the deep mark he has left on the boy’s neck. It’ll remain on his skin for days and Arthur feels so good about it.

They lay together for a long time on the grass, entwined into each other’s reassuring warmth. They smell of sex, they smell of happiness and earth. The flowers have already embalmed the forest and smell nice, not as nice as the boy's sweaty skin though.

The boy’s head is resting on Arthur's shoulder and he is humming happily. Arthur unconsciously plays with his dark hair and kisses his forehead.

"Thank you," he whispered, spent, happily spent.

"You're more than welcome," grins the boy.

Arthur retraces the mark he left on the boy’s neck, feeling the little hollows with his fingers, and likes far too much what he feels. The boy was marked as his, knowingly, willing.

Right now the boy isn’t a subject serving a monarch; he was an equal giving freely. It feels so much better, not granted but so precious.

"You're some kind of wild thing, you know,” the boy pretends to pout, “I’ll keep the mark of your teeth for days!"

"It’s not the only thing you'll feel for days" Arthur answers, his hand gently rubbing the small of the boy’s back.

The boy blushes like the virgin he isn't anymore.

"You're a prat," he concludes.

"Yeah? Yeah. But you didn't seem to mind before," teases Arthur, happy to be called a name for the very first time in his life.

In his life, a person calling him a prat would have to suffer the consequences. Here, in the forest, naked on the grass at Beltane Night, it’s just a word not a crime.

“I didn't,” the boy answers, that brilliant smile of his on his lips once again “I don't.”

“The night is still young,” whispers Arthur catching the boy’s lips once again “Stay with me?”

The boy’s smile answers for him, his blush too.

They stay together the whole night.

With the first sunlight, Arthur wakes up. He knows he has to go back to Camelot. He has to find Morgana as soon as possible and return to his life. He looks at the peaceful face sleeping next to him; the boy seems even younger in the pale day light. He is sleeping holding on to Arthur, Arthur’s arms around his fragile silhouette.

Arthur doesn’t want to go. But he has to. He has run away from his duties for long enough. This boy and he never should have met in the first place; they’re not destined to be together whatever happens. This simple life, human's life, isn’t for him. He doesn't mind. He never had.

He gently runs his hand through the boy’s rustled hair, kisses his lovely cheekbones, his lips, his neck where his mark will remain for days; a remembrance of something that will never be.

He wants to remove the boy’s mask, to look at his face, to see it openly but he knows better, this night has been a night of sharing, of trust, he won't besmirch it. It has been a beautiful dream Arthur will carry on in his heart.

"Be happy, little bird," he whispers against the ear of the boy wishing he knows at last his name and covers him with his jacket.

Arthur gets out of the shed of the trees not once looking behind because he knows he wouldn't stand to look at the beautifulness he barely had between his fingers and already lost.

He has to find Morgana and go back home, where his duties lay, though he knows that his heart will be lost forever in this forest. A prince doesn’t need a heart to rule justly.

His father has always been right, magic is evil.

It gives you the most beautiful thing in the world, the thing you crave for and takes it back as soon as you touch it.