There's a private room in one of the towers of Camelot, a room with rich carpets on the floor; it's sparely furnished, a low table or two and a door that leads through to a bed. And in it, three people sometimes spend their time.
“Oh dear, oh dear.”
Gwen looks up at Merlin with dark, provocative eyes, then cuts them sideways at Arthur.
“He's not a very good boy, is he?” says Merlin, looking down into her face with cool amusement. She shakes her head, and smiles mischievously.
“Not like you,” says Merlin. He bends down, reaches a hand between her legs, and gives her a couple of firm strokes; soft, coarse hair and hot slickness. His cock thickens as Gwen gasps.
“Ah-ah,” he warns her, taking his hand away. “Good girls don't make noise.”
She follows him with mute, wanting eyes as he stands, and goes over to Arthur. The collar he tied on her is beautiful, the deep pink velvet lush against her tawny skin. Its loose ends trail down over her rounded breasts, their cocoa-dark nipples standing out, and brush against her sides.
Arthur is on his knees, bound with ribbons; Merlin takes a moment to stand behind him and admire his handiwork. Around his ankles are heavy cuffs of leather, connected by a chain; but his wrists are bound with long, glossy strips of cornflower blue. The ribbons spiral up his forearms, not tied but held in place by magic; he can see Arthur's muscles shifting as he struggles. They're holding him like iron. His wrists are tethered to his ankles by it too, the ribbon between them lazily coiling and shifting on the air as the magic moves. But every time he tries to tug on it it tenses, like a snake, and pulls him back down.
“Fucking. Let. Me go,” says Arthur again.
Merlin yanks his head back by that satiny blond hair, leans down until his mouth is almost over Arthur's, and says, “No.”
He turns away. As if it's an afterthought, he glances back, and murmurs something; a tail of ribbon snakes over Arthur's hip, and insinuates itself onto his cock, sliding up it in a spiral just like the ones that bind his arms. Arthur reacts, his body twitching; the ribbon ripples and tightens, a little boa constrictor, slowly working his cock. He opens his mouth to curse again and it's taken by a harsh breath as the ribbon squeezes him. Helplessly he thrusts; and as soon as he does, the ribbon slackens, hanging loose.
“See,” says Merlin to Gwen. “Good little boys get pleasure. Just like good little girls.”
Gwen's eyes flick from Merlin's face to Arthur, and back again; she's looking at his cock.
“He's very pretty, isn't he,” says Merlin. “You'd like to fuck him, wouldn't you. See what that big thick cock feels like inside you.” Suddenly he can hear Arthur struggling furiously behind him, the faint metallic sounds of chain links moving against each other; Gwen's lips part and she has to tear her eyes away from him to look up at Merlin. He flashes her a cold look, warning her; she almost, almost makes a sound – but she catches herself. She flushes, and nods. Merlin smiles.
“Perhaps when he's been good,” he says. Arthur's struggles still.
“Sounds like he wants you,” Merlin says. Gwen's eyes widen; she's trying not to look at Arthur, her eyes wavering and flashing back to his.
Merlin stands, and unfastens his breeches.
“Now now,” he says. “No getting distracted.” He frees his cock, takes Gwen's head with a hand in her hair, and guides it towards her mouth.
This is what she loves best; pleasing him. He fucks her mouth slowly, drawing back far enough to look down at his shaft as it disappears between her lips again; she flicks her tongue over the slit, and he flicks her ear with his free hand.
“Look at me,” he commands. Dark eyes gaze up at him. He pushes all the way in, feels himself hit the back of her throat; watches her eyes widen and fear seep into them as he holds her there, choking. It makes him swell, harder still, watching her feel the terror of breathlessness, and take it for him.
“Jesus christ,” breathes Arthur.
Merlin pulls his cock out of Gwen's mouth, leaving her gasping and falling forward onto her hands; there's a riding crop on the table and he snatches it as he strides across to Arthur. He stretches out his hand, and another ribbon swirls up from the floor; it folds itself into three loops, and they form themselves around Arthur's neck, a triplicate collar of blue. The ends bunch themselves together and settle into his hand; he twists, tightening it, and pulls Arthur forward, till he overbalances and lands on his chest on the table. The ribbon that trails down from his hands is tight now, running down his spine and settling in the crack of his arse.
Merlin brings the crop down hard, across the ribbon and the skin, and without leaving anything between the strokes, does it again. Arthur hisses.
“What have I told you,” says Merlin, “about shutting up?”
He gives Arthur three more sharp strokes, letting the end of the crop whip and sting him hard; at the first one he starts, at the second he shivers, and at the third, he goes very still.
Merlin walks round the table, lifts Arthur's chin with his hand and stares into his eyes.
“Decided to do what you're told at last?” he says.
Arthur's beautiful lips close, and he looks up at Merlin with determined eyes.
“Good,” says Merlin. “Gwen. Over the table.”
He doesn't need to look to know that Gwen is getting up, walking over to the other, taller table, and bending over it; that she's spreading her legs, showing her soft backside and her pink, wet slit. Merlin picks up Arthur's magical collar again, lets him use it as an anchor point to lever himself back to his knees; tugs, and watches Arthur stand.
“Forbregdan,” he whispers, and the ribbons that hold Arthur's arms come loose. Arthur knows what comes next, and crosses his arms in front of him instead. The blue satin ribbons slide over his shoulder, around his waist, caressing him as Merlin holds him still; they slither up his arms again, and rebind them, a latticework. Now that they're gone, no longer trailing down his back and hiding it from view, the long, narrow oval foot of the plug in Arthur's arse can be seen; there's a hawk carved into it, a delicate relief. Merlin touches it, moves it gently with his fingertips; sees Arthur's breath hitch, and is gratified as he makes not a single sound.
Merlin leads him over to where Gwen lies, spread over the table for them; stands beside Arthur and watches his face, watches him stare at her open pussy, sees his fingers move, and close against his palms again as he remembers he's not permitted to touch.
“Inside her,” says Merlin. “And then wait.”
He takes Arthur's cock in his hand – Arthur's eyes fall closed for an instant – and Gwen's fingers close tight on the edges of the table as the head of it nudges against her folds, as Arthur thrusts, slips in a little way, pulls back and thrusts again. He sheaths himself in her completely, and stops, his chest heaving; those strong, solid thighs are trembling with the effort of staying still. Merlin drops the ribbon leash, and steps behind him.
“Breathe for me,” he tells Arthur quietly. Arthur breathes in, and as he breathes out again, Merlin slips out the plug. It comes easily, leaving Arthur open and slick. Merlin sets it aside, and pauses; taking his time to contemplate Arthur as he strokes himself to full hardness again. He can see the tension in Arthur's back; see Gwen's legs trembling, the way her eyes are squeezed shut, desperately trying not to push back against Arthur. Cock in hand, he goes to her shoulder, slowly strokes her back; ends it with a slap on her arse cheek, close to Arthur's belly, flat and taut as he takes shallow breaths.
“Not until I say, Gwen,” he murmurs, threatening. Arthur drops his head forward, biting his lip.
It's time. Merlin positions himself behind Arthur, positions his cock at Arthur's entrance, and slowly begins to push in. Arthur's head comes up again, his neck lovely as it arches back; Merlin wraps his fingers round Arthur's shoulder, soothing him as he withdraws, and thrusts again. At last he's in, Arthur tight around him, and he settles his hands on Arthur's hips.
“Now,” he says softly. “Why don't we fuck her.”
He draws back a little, thrusts, and Arthur thrusts with him; Gwen gives a little hitching moan.
“Tell me how it feels, Gwen,” says Merlin.
“God – oh God,” says Gwen. “He's – it's good, it's so good -”
Merlin draws back a second time, and starts a slow rhythm, sliding into Arthur, pushing him into Gwen. Arthur shakes hard; he can't support himself, hands tied in front of his chest, and Merlin holds his hips, steadying him. He's caught between Merlin and Gwen, fucking and being fucked at once; Merlin wraps an arm around his chest, thrusts harder, anchoring Arthur as his head drops back; Arthur's losing himself, becoming part of Merlin, and Gwen's moaning in earnest now as they slam into her, lifting her onto her toes wth every stroke.
Merlin twists Arthur's nipple hard, pinching it with his nails. “Don't come,” he warns, as he feels Arthur tensing again. Arthur breathes hard, and Merlin lets up on him just a little, slackens the pace. Arthur bites down on a something between a groan and a wail as Merlin takes hold of his balls and pulls them slowly down, still fucking him. Against the back of his hand he can feel Gwen's pussy, her clit swollen; he lets go of Arthur's balls, and rubs his thumb on it. She bucks, Arthur gives a sharp gasp, and Merlin snaps his hips, picking up the pace as he strokes Gwen's clit. She spreads her legs wider, cants her backside up to take more of Arthur's cock; Merlin widens his stance, fucks Arthur harder, driving him deeper in. Arthur's moving with him, even his breath coming in time with Merlin's thrusts; Gwen's moans and gasps rise, and sharpen, and then Arthur gives a strangled cry as she comes. Merlin grabs the base of Arthur's cock, making the sound catch and twist in his throat; he slams himself in, holding Arthur hard, and in moments he can feel heat rising in him, drawing up through his balls and down through his spine as his world focuses down onto his cock, and Arthur in his arms.
“Come,” he says, letting go of Arthur's cock. He holds Arthur tight against him, as he moves in Arthur and Arthur moves in Gwen, and Arthur shakes and comes apart, and it pulls him over the edge.
The ribbons fall away from his throat and his arms, sliding down his skin like water drops; Arthur slowly draws his hands apart, slipping out of the tangle of them. He braces his hands on the table and hangs there, trembling. Merlin is warm behind him, arms still around him, leaning against his back; he feels a kiss, pressed against his spine.
Beneath him Gwen begins to stir, blinking slowly and smiling in sated serenity; Merlin seems to sense her moving, and Arthur can't help a sound as he withdraws. It's so cold without him; his hands are on Arthur's hips, gently drawing him back, and Gwen's shuddering around him as he too withdraws, but that leaves him alone, without the warmth of either of them, and he sinks to his knees. But then Gwen's there beside him, stroking his hair and murmuring endearments; he reaches for her, and a moment later feels arms close about him from behind as well as in front, and Merlin's there; Merlin's there. Merlin's holding him and so is Gwen, her whispers are blending with his soft deep voice, and they're both telling him how beautiful he is, how good. He buries his face in Gwen's hair, and feels Merlin kissing his neck and shoulder, holding him close.