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It took the cooperation of all three of them to get from the great hall to Arthur's chambers, but Merlin wasn't sure who was actually helping who. He and Lancelot had Arthur between them to support his weight, but Merlin's treacherous feet had betrayed him more than once, and each time it was Author who stopped him from falling on his face, his reflexes still quick despite the endlessly flowing ale. Lancelot's legs were still working, but his eyes were mostly closed, and his voice was clear but his words were still inexplicable. At least, Merlin couldn't follow the flow of his thoughts.

Once the door was safely shut behind them, Merlin sank to the floor, feeling comfortably warm and distant and happy. Arthur and Lancelot still needed to be undressed, and wasn't that a wonderful thought? Arthur's pale skin and broad shoulders contrasted to Lancelot's darker tones and trimmer body. Merlin knew enough about both men's bodies to paint a perfectly accurate portrait of the two. He closed his eyes to savor the image and when he opened them again, Arthur and Lancelot were kissing.

Merlin made a thick-throated questioning sound that wasn't quite a word but, he felt, still conveyed exactly what he was trying to say. Neither of the men looked up or acknowledged him at all, leaving Merlin with nothing to do except reflect on how this could have happened. Not that it was a big mystery. Arthur must have made the first move because nobody, not even a drunken, newly-knighted Lancelot would try to kiss the prince. So Arthur had done it, and since he didn't like his decisions to be questioned, Merlin decided it was best to simply be happy it was happening at all.

They were perfect, both surprisingly graceful as they clung to each other, their tongues engaged in a recreation of their earlier battle. Merlin watched, stunned, as Arthur reached up to run his fingers through Lancelot's hair, pushing it gently away from his face. Lancelot responded by cupping the back of Arthur's head, holding him he deepened the kiss. Merlin thought he could sit there on the floor and watch the two of them for hours. He absently rested his hand over his growing erection, rubbing himself through his breeches.


Merlin couldn't be sure if what he heard was actually his name, due to the waves crashing in his head and the fact the room was spinning around him. He flexed his fingers, shuddering at the added pressure.


Merlin blinked and sat straight up, though his hand was still on his cock. "What?"

"Get over here and help me take this armor off," Arthur demanded.

"What? You don't know how to remove armor?"

"Merlin." His tone was enough to get Merlin moving. It was the tone that said do what I say or I'm going to put you in the stocks and the last thing Merlin wanted was to be stuck in the stocks while he was drunk and hard—or hungover and frustrated. Besides, if he was already over there helping them undress, they might not notice, or care to notice, if he helped with other things. He was the prince's servant, after all. It was his duty to act as a second pair of hands.

Bracing himself against the wall, he slowly pushed himself to his feet. Everything swayed, rocking like a little boat on choppy water. He took three stumbling steps forward, caught himself on the table, and then finished his journey. Most of Lancelot's armor was already unbuckled, but Arthur clearly had other things on his mind. Merlin stood behind Lancelot to finish the job, letting his cock rub against the back of Lancelot's thigh. If the new knight noticed, he didn't let on. And the friction just felt too good to stop. Arthur would just have to knock him across the room if he had a problem with the way Merlin did his job.

The armor clattered to the ground disrespectfully, and Merlin made a mental note to apologize to Lancelot in the morning and offer to give it a thorough polishing. Arthur paused from plundering Lancelot's mouth, lifting his head long enough to say, "Now mine."

Merlin shuffled around the two men, his cock aching and his eyes throbbing. At first, he considered using magic to make short work of the armor, but in his state something could go terribly wrong, and he could find himself without a head in the morning. So he settled for standing as far away as he could, certain Arthur wouldn't tolerate Merlin rubbing against him like a horny cat.

But…will he even notice? He seems pretty wrapped up in Lancelot.

This was true. Besides that, Merlin had never been in so much agony in his life, and it wasn't really fair that he was expected to stand there and ignore the prince's perfect backside and his muscled thighs. And his warmth. Merlin moved in centimeters, giving Arthur time to swat him away like a fly. When he finally had his cock pressed against the firm heat of Arthur's ass, it was all he could do to bite back a moan. That was nice. It was very, very nice. It would be nicer if their breeches were out of the way, though.

Unfortunately for Merlin, he made the mistake of putting his hands on Arthur's hips and tugging him back none too gently.

"What are you doing back there?" Arthur demanded, his voice laced with irritation. When he looked over his shoulder to further berate his manservant, Merlin noticed his lips were swollen and his eyes were black. Merlin caught his breath, and for a moment, his heart hurt far worse than the ache in his groin. He hated it when Arthur did that to him. It wasn't fair, for one thing. After all, he wasn't allowed to make Arthur's heart ache, and he probably couldn't even if he tried.

"I…nothing, sire."

"Then make yourself useful, will you? Get Lancelot ready for me."

There was no mistaking his meaning, and Merlin nearly fell down. He managed to catch himself on the table before anything truly embarrassing happened, but he was sure Arthur saw the little stumble. He might have even been smiling if his mouth wasn't already engaged again, this time sucking and nibbling on the hollow of Lancelot's throat.

Merlin made it around to stand behind Lancelot again and dropped to his knees. He had to reach around to untie his laces, and that meant letting his knuckles drag against Arthur's very hard, very impressive, cock. Merlin shuddered, his mouth running dry. He tried to focus on Lancelot's laces, but Arthur's clothes were so thin and he wasn't swatting Merlin's hand away or growling at him to knock it off.

Somehow, his very drunk, very awkward fingers managed to get Lancelot's breeches undone, and since he was already down there, Merlin decided to be a good manservant and take care of Arthur's as well. He was just complimenting himself on a job well done when the tips of his fingers brushed against Arthur's bare skin. Merlin froze, just barely touching his prince, his fingers straining to do more. Finally, after an eternity of doubt, Arthur moaned. And he shifted his hips. And Merlin was nothing if not attentive, so he did the most logical thing. He fisted Arthur's shaft in one hand and Lancelot's in the other, stroking them both at the same time.

They moaned in unison, and Merlin was certain he was going to explode. It wouldn't be very dignified to come in his breeches and he really didn't want to deal with the mess, but he was vibrating. His entire body was trembling. That he had given either of them just a moment of pleasure thrilled him to his core, and when he closed his eyes he saw Arthur gazing down on him with heavy-lidded eyes, lips parted, desire etched on his face. The same way he was no doubt gazing at Lancelot right that very moment. Merlin didn't have the self-control necessary to push the image of Arthur away, and so he just kept his eyes closed and enjoyed the fantasy as he stroked the prince and his knight.

Merlin couldn't believe the heat radiating off of them. They warmed his hand and slicked his skin, both of them dripping with desire. Their skin was unbelievably smooth, like the finest silk in Arthur's wardrobe. Arthur's cock was a little wider than Lancelot's, but Lancelot's was longer and had the slightest curve. Merlin wished he wasn't trapped behind Lancelot. He would have liked a visual comparison as well.

"Merlin…I was serious."

That Arthur still had the presence of mind to boss him around, and worse, remember his previous orders, made Merlin want to redouble his efforts. He was sure he could make Arthur forget all about giving orders and making demands—what would it be like to hear Arthur beg? To hear Arthur beg for him? The thought was so unbelievably glorious that Merlin daren't entertain it for very long.

"Serious about what?"

Arthur made a sound that probably started as an exasperated sigh by turned into something else when Merlin wiped his thumb across his sensitive head. He did it twice more, getting a different sound each time, and decided to try the same on Lancelot. Lancelot bit back his moan, but his knees did bend slightly, and fresh pre-come flowed over Merlin's finger.

"About…getting Lancelot ready," Arthur finally ground out. Merlin was not impressed with Arthur's single-mindedness and ability to concentrate. His determination to strip Arthur of both grew.

"I have a better idea, sire." His voice trembled with each word, but he hoped Arthur was too distracted by Lancelot to notice. "Why don't I get you ready for him?"

Arthur didn't respond again. A muffled moan from above told Merlin that Arthur's mouth was going to be too occupied to speak in the near future, and he knew an opportunity when he saw one. He crawled around Lancelot's legs to kneel between the two men. He gazed up at their jaws, studying their throats and the shape they made with their mouths. Merlin finally loosened his own laces, and his cock immediately sprung free.

Merlin wrapped his hand around the base of Arthur's cock, holding him gently as his tongue snuck from between his lips. His throat was dry and tight with excitement, and he was heady at just the thought of what he was about to do. With another quick glance upward, Merlin swiped his tongue across Arthur's head. The mere taste of him was intoxicating, and it suddenly became Merlin's mission in life to cover every bit of Arthur with his tongue. He lapped at the throbbing flesh, desperate for more of that salty, musky flavor. And the scent of his skin was unlike anything Merlin had ever experienced. He inhaled deeply, exhaling cool air in short gasps on Arthur's sensitive head.

A hand on the back of his head guided his mouth away from Arthur's cock, and he moaned in soft protest, straining against the tight grip to stay right where he was. But finally he couldn't resist, and he felt Lancelot's cock at the corner of his mouth. Curious, he submitted to the hold and parted his lips in invitation. Lancelot moaned, his cock pushing at Merlin's teeth. He had a slightly sharper smell than Arthur, and the tentative brush of his tongue across Lancelot's slit verified he had a different taste as well.

With a groan, Merlin dropped his jaw and allowed Lancelot to slide into his mouth. He was heavy on Merlin's tongue, and his head scraped across the roof of his mouth in the most maddening way. Merlin kept his eyes closed, because every time he risked looking up into Lancelot's dark eyes, his throat seized and he forgot how to breathe, and suffocating in that situation would have been a terribly undignified way to die. Arthur's hand, with his thick calluses and his strong fingers, settled over Merlin's where it rested on Arthur's shaft. Arthur moved his wrist, and then their hands were gliding over the hot flesh together, in one smooth gesture.

They were all moaning and sighing and somebody kept whispering please. Merlin knew it wasn't him, because he couldn't talk. But that was about all he knew. His senses were overwhelmed, and the world could have been crumbling to hell around them, Merlin wouldn't have noticed.

A quick yank on his hair prompted him to release Lancelot and turn back to Arthur. Merlin immediately moaned with deep satisfaction, swallowing as much of Arthur's length as he could. Arthur untangled his fingers from Merlin's hair and dragged his knuckles across Merlin's jaw and down his neck. The gentle touch sizzled across his skin like the most powerful magic, and Merlin unabashedly begged for more, using his lips and his tongue and soft whimpers to convey just what he needed from Arthur.

Arthur took his hand again, but this time, he closed his fingers over Lancelot's length. They stroked him together while Merlin worshipped Arthur's cock with his tongue. He could tell they were kissing above him—except it wasn't quite kissing. It was clumsy and hungry and too many times their mouths met just so they could muffle the shouts Merlin so enthusiastically forced from them.

"Merlin." The prince didn't sound like himself. His voice was deeper and the word was almost a rapse. Merlin stopped moving automatically, casting his eyes upward. Arthur was looking down on him, and it was so much like the look Merlin had fantasized about that he experienced a resurgence of his earlier fear that he had somehow wished this into existence. He wasn't ready to stop. He wasn't even close to ready to stop. Especially since he didn't think he would get a second chance at this, and he needed to make every second count. "Get the oil."

Merlin hesitated. He could just pretend he didn't hear Arthur's order. It was a tactic that worked more often than not, much to Merlin's surprise. But it also put Arthur in a bit of a mood, and Merlin definitely didn't want that. Not at that moment, anyway. With that in mind, he found the strength to move away from Arthur. The oil was under the bed—Merlin had noticed it before while cleaning but never had the nerve to ask just what, or who, it was for. He didn't bother to stand, figuring it was easier to just crawl over and grab it (easier still to mutter a spell but he didn't think Arthur was so far gone he wouldn't notice sorcery literally under his nose).

With the small pot in hand, Merlin returned to his position at Arthur's feet. Their cocks were jutting forward, the tips touching and jerking apart, a long strand of clear fluid stretching between them. Without thinking about it—much less seeking permission—he leaned forward to lick the salty fluid away, catching both crowns between his lips at the same time. The mingled flavor made his nose tingle, and the pain radiating from his groin sharpened to the point that might have been fatal. It was sinking into his bones, and Merlin was quite sure the memory of it would stick with him for the rest of his life.

Arthur took him by the shoulders and roughly jerked him to his feet. Fear slashed through him and a knot formed in his throat. He couldn't even remember how to breathe. Had he done something to displease Arthur? Had he been too bold? Had he genuinely missed another demand? It didn't help that his vision was suddenly fuzzy or that his breeches had fallen to his knees and were effectively hobbling him.

"What do you want, Merlin? Do you want me to take you?"

Merlin blinked, surprised to hear a lifetime of desires summed up into one perfect little question. "Yes. Please."

"But what of Lancelot? If I see to you, I'll be depriving him of my attentions." And, Arthur didn't have to add, that would be quite the disappointment for him.

"I'll make it up to him," Merlin blurted. He looked over his shoulder. "I'll make it up to you."

"How will you make it up to him?" Arthur demanded.

"Anyway he wants. Anything."

"Lancelot, does that sound like an agreeable bargain to you?"

Oh my god, how is he still talking? Merlin thought frantically. What? Is he made of stone? Doesn't he realize he's murdering me here?

"It sounds more than fair, my lord." Lancelot almost sounded normal. Merlin was considering becoming annoyed with him too when he felt himself jerked forward and then he was falling and then Arthur was kissing him. Merlin opened to the kiss immediately, knowing they were a bit sloppy and knowing he could do better but Arthur wasn't giving him a chance to prove it.

A sharp tug on his trousers freed his legs, and then Lancelot's large hands were sliding up his ribs. Merlin moaned and melted into his touch, the tension in his body completely gone. He would have fallen to the floor if Arthur wasn't so skillfully supporting his weight. Arthur pulled him to the bed without breaking the kiss, falling back to the soft mattress. Their cocks slid together and Merlin yelped, surprised by how damp Arthur was and how sensitive he was and how wonderful it felt.

"Lancelot," Arthur said without completely breaking the kiss.

"Yes, sire?"

"Use the oil to get Merlin ready for me."

"Yes, sire."

"At least somebody knows how to follow orders around here. You could learn a lot from him, Merlin."

"What?" Merlin didn't even know what Arthur was talking about. He was too distracted by the fact that Arthur was talking again and not kissing him properly.

And then he was distracted by a long, warm finger sliding into his ass. The oil was thick and eased the passage. Merlin tensed, but the brief flare of pain was nothing compared to what he'd been going through all night. It was so inconsequential that he didn't allow it to distract him from Arthur's lower lip, or his chin, or his throat, or his ear, or his shoulder. Merlin wasn't sure when his mouth fell away from Arthur's, but now he was exploring every inch he could reach. He left bite marks and sucked on the skin and traced his bruises and thought about how limited he felt. If he could only use his magic, he could take all three of them into a realm of pleasure they'd never even imagined. And in that blissed-out, alcohol-soaked moment, the promise of it was almost worth dying for.

Lancelot's fingers slid from him. He gripped Merlin's hip and pulled him back until he felt the head of Arthur's cock at his slick hole. Pleasure flared through him, brighter than a dozen suns. He was going to lose control. He knew it. He was going to lose control and do something stupid like glow or set the bed on fire or tell Arthur that he loved him more than anything in the world. Knowing the third option would certainly be the worse, he slammed his mouth to Arthur's, shoving his tongue between Arthur's lips as Arthur pushed his hips upward, sliding into Merlin with a single hard thrust.

The pain was brilliant and terrible and Merlin didn't care about it one bit. His body stretched around Arthur, his flesh yielding to each powerful thrust. He held onto Arthur's shoulders, squeezing them so tight he was certain Arthur would have ten fresh bruises in the morning. Each time Arthur pulled away from him, Merlin rocked back, fighting the rhythm Arthur wanted to set. It wasn't that he didn't like the rhythm—it was perfectly fine—but he didn't want to lose an inch of Arthur's cock.

Merlin felt the bed shift before Lancelot came into his line of sight. He stood flat footed on the bed, his feet on either side of Arthur's shoulders. Merlin barely had a chance to register that before Lancelot caught him by the chin. He had no choice but to straighten. That slightly changed the angle of penetration, and Merlin gasped with shocked pleasure. Lancelot took advantage of his parted lips and slid his cock against Merlin's tongue until the tip was buried in his throat.

That was enough to make all higher brain functions shut down. Pleasure flowed into him and through him and above him and around him. He felt like he was absorbing it from the bodies pressed into him, and then sharing it with them again. And there were hands on him, touching him everywhere. When Arthur finally fisted his cock, bright lights flashed behind Merlin's eyes. He cupped Lancelot's ass, his fingers kneading the firm flesh as he clung to him. Merlin didn't know what would happen if he let Lancelot go, but he was certain it was something bad.

Merlin lost any sense of resistance he might have had, trying to follow both men's leads even though they were pulling him into two different directions. Arthur felt like one of his favored stallions beneath Merlin, all tight skin and flexing muscles and barely restrained energy. He was definitely taking what he wanted from Merlin, using his body without hesitation or question, like it belonged to him. Which it did, a fact that Merlin was more than happy to admit at the moment.

Lancelot moved much differently. He didn't demand anything, but he still made it clear what he wanted. Merlin was happy to give it to him, pulling Lancelot closer with each sharp thrust. Merlin's cock slapped against his stomach every time Arthur pulled him down. Sometimes, Arthur stroked him and sometimes he released him to find other ways to torment Merlin with his fingers. It didn't matter either way. Merlin knew he was getting closer and closer to the edge, and he was probably going to go over first and he hoped Lancelot would at least warn him before he shot down Merlin's throat.

To Merlin's surprise, he wasn't the first one to break. Arthur arched back, the tendons standing out in his neck and shoulders, and shouted what might have been Merlin's name. His cock jerked again and again, filling Merlin, but Arthur didn't stop moving his hips. His spending mingled with the oil and made it easier for him to pound into Merlin's body. Stars exploded inside of him, short, hot bursts of color and heat that left him shaking and boneless. His cock was so hard that each time it brushed against Arthur's stomach or slapped against his own belly he moaned around Lancelot's, any friction or pressure nearly unbearable.

The endless vibrations through his shaft might have pushed Lancelot past the point of self-control. He shouted and gripped the back of Merlin's head, holding him in place as he shot streams of come down his throat. The taste didn't bother him, but the texture was more than a little strange. He shook with each hot splash on the back of his tongue, and why wouldn't Arthur just touch him. Was he being punished for something? He was going to die and how would Arthur explain that? It would serve him right to tell his father how he managed to kill his manservant.

Lancelot let his cock slip from Merlin's mouth and he gasped for breath, arching back until he thought his spine might snap in two. Arthur was still slamming into him, shuttling his cock into Merlin in an unsteady beat. Merlin didn't understand how Arthur had the energy to do that. Was it training? Had Arthur learned how to drive people utterly insane or was it just one of his innate skills? Merlin set that problem aside for another time when he could actually think.

"Please, Arthur," Merlin sobbed, feeling like he would shatter with a touch. Or a word. "Please."

But Arthur wasn't his savior. Not this time. Lancelot was the one who finally took pity on Merlin's suffering and wrapped his rough hand around Merlin's pulsing shaft. It only took one firm, long stroke and he was shattering just like he thought he would. He dropped his head back and shouted and he knew his pleasure must have echoed through all of Camelot. Arthur might be cross with him for making such a racket, but Merlin was so far past caring, he couldn't even remember what it felt like.

He shot all over Arthur's chest, covering him with the sticky fluid. Through the haze of pleasure he noticed a thin, white string clinging to Arthur's chin, and his cock jerked again, though there was nothing left. Merlin shuddered, feeling far too sensitive. Arthur was still buried inside of him and it didn't hurt. It was beyond pain and pleasure, and Merlin didn't know anything except that he couldn't stand another second of it.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Arthur demanded as Merlin squirmed.


"Please what?"

"Please…I'm sensitive. I'm too sensitive. I'm…"


"Arthur…Arthur…please. I can't…" Merlin frantically sought his mind for the word that might get through to him and finally seized one. "Sire, please."

That did the trick. Merlin slumped forward, his whole body going limp as Arthur slid out of his channel. He was slick and sticky and thirsty and his limbs wouldn't stop trembling. He'd also never been so exhausted in his life, and wasn't it funny how pleasure could sap the strength right out of you? Maybe Arthur would let him sleep there. He sought out Arthur's mouth, and he consented to the tired kiss. He couldn't bring himself to break the contact even though his eyes were so heavy he couldn't open them.

"Oi. You're not going to sleep yet."

"I'm not?" Merlin mumbled.


"I'm not cleaning your armor. It can wait until the morning."

"That's not what I was going to say, but you will clean my armor if I tell you to."

"Whatever you say."

"Merlin, didn't you make a promise to Lancelot?"

That got him to crack open an eye. "What?"

"Let him sleep, sire. I don't believe he shares a knight's stamina."

Merlin opened his mouth to protest, realized that took effort, and decided to revisit the debate in the morning. Preferably when he wasn't exhausted and tucked into Arthur's side like he had been made to sleep there. Arthur chuckled, but he pulled Merlin a little bit closer, and that was just fine.