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“I can’t do that!” Merlin reacted with such horror that, for a moment, Arthur thought he must have misunderstood. If it were anyone other than Merlin, Arthur would have been offended at what could only be an insult to his wife.
“What do you mean,” he replied, as evenly as he could manage. “Isn’t that what you were suggesting?”
“No! No!” And here, Merlin flapped his hands rather dramatically. After a moment’s consideration and a deep breath, he calmed. “I mean, no. Not me.”
“So were you proposing some other sorcerer then to, how did you put it? ‘Prepare my wife’s womb to receive my seed?’ Who else is going to do that, Merlin?”
Who else indeed? Arthur and Guinevere had been trying to conceive for several years now, as long as they had been married. And, given that both of them preferred someone else in their bed, the monthly ordeal -- enacted and re-enacted dozens of times now -- was becoming too much to bear. Merlin had watched helplessly from the sidelines from the moment it had become clear that producing an heir would not be a matter of course. Recently, though, he had convinced Arthur to let him investigate how he might assist. Needless to say, magical intervention into the creation of new life was a sore subject for Arthur. Even Guinevere, who had supported Merlin through the worst of Arthur’s reaction to Merlin’s magic, didn’t like her odds. Merlin had had to assure them repeatedly that he wouldn’t do anything to upset the Balance of Life.
Instead, if Arthur’s reaction was any indication, the solution he had found, if indeed it was a solution, was going to upset the balance of everyday life -- for all of them. And he’d only explained half of it. Merlin soldiered on.
“Well, whether I’m the one to open Gwen’s womb or we find another sorcerer to do the job, I haven’t quite finished telling you what I’ve learned. That’s not the only thing we need to do to make it work. You need to be prepared as well.”
“Prepared.” Arthur lifted his eyebrows.
“Perhaps I should get Gwen and Lance,” Merlin offered.
***
It’s a rare man who can share his true love with another, who can face the fact, every day, that she belongs to someone else, that he comes in second place, even if she loves him more. Lancelot was such a man, Merlin thought. It had been years now with no heir, and still they abstained when Guinevere was presumed fertile, and still they took precautions even at other times, and still Lancelot knocked quietly at Merlin’s door with a flask of wine in hand to play chess on the nights that Arthur visited Guinevere in her chambers. Merlin didn’t think he’d manage with half as much grace if he were in Lancelot’s shoes. And Merlin suspected that, once the future of Camelot was secure, Lancelot hoped to have Guinevere to himself.
And so here was Lancelot, sitting next to Guinevere at Arthur’s table, holding her hand as Merlin described yet another reminder of Lancelot’s place.
“So, if I’m right, this has nothing to do with the Balance of Life. The problem is that Arthur’s seed can’t grow in the, um, soil where it’s being planted.” Merlin flushed nervously. Despite years of relative openness with his partners in their rather unconventional arrangement, this discussion of the birds and bees was making him sweat. “It’s like when farmers spread manure to help the crops grow.”
Gwen flinched.
“Oh, no. Not actually manure! What I mean is that I think with the proper spells at the, uh, appropriate time, the seed from a sorcerer could prepare the ground. If Arthur’s seed was introduced right after, it might take root and grow.”
“Merlin, my friend,” Lancelot said, “this is indeed a noble thing you offer.”
“Actually, my first thought was Azindor of Mercia. He’s certainly powerful enough, and perhaps a bit more Gwen’s type.” Merlin attempted a grin, hoping that perhaps Gwen would help him out.
“Nonsense!” Arthur said. “I won’t have some strange sorcerer despoiling the Queen in her chambers. It’s you or it’s no one.”
Gwen looked to Arthur, and then Lancelot, before addressing Merlin. “I know it’s not what you’d prefer, Merlin, but I think I’d be more comfortable as well. It won’t be so bad.”
Merlin gave her a small smile. “Of course not. But we need to go over the rest. Just as we need to prepare the soil, we’ll need to improve the seed as well.” Arthur’s cheeks colored, and he seemed about to say something, but Merlin plowed on. “Here I don’t think there’s a need for magic, it’s really just a matter of anatomy. There is a simple mechanical means of stimulating the production of seed to increase its quantity.”
How Merlin survived the ensuing explanation without spontaneously bursting into flames he would never know. Arthur had to be well aware of the sort of stimulation that would be necessary to increase his seed. He practiced it on Merlin routinely. Whether it was pigheadedness, or genuine confusion borne of the awkwardness of the moment Merlin could not tell, but the end result was the same. He had to explain to Arthur, in front of Guinevere and Lancelot, how it would be necessary for Arthur to receive this stimulation -- stimulation he’d never seemed terribly keen on before -- at precisely the same time Guinevere’s womb was being prepared. All so that as soon as the proper spells had been incanted Arthur could inseminate her. Copiously.
“But Merlin, you can hardly be increasing my seed at the same time you’re improving Gwen’s soil!” Arthur stopped speaking abruptly when he remembered that Guinevere and Lancelot were still in the room.
“I know that Arthur.” Merlin spoke softly. “I hadn’t really thought I’d be the one attending to Gwen. But, as I said, preparing you doesn’t require magic. I think this is where Lance comes in.”
***
Night was falling on a warm spring evening as Merlin lit the candles in the king’s chambers. Arthur was still seated at his table, his dinner largely untouched. The servants had just left after preparing the king’s bath. The silence between them was heavy.
“Are you ready for your bath? You should get in while it’s still warm.” This was patently silly and they both knew it. The bath water went cold more often than not and a simple spell always brought it back to the perfect temperature, but Merlin needed to say something to get Arthur up from the table and on to the task at hand.
And, for once, Arthur was not ready with a barb. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.” He removed his belt and began unlacing his trousers.
“Er, perhaps you would like to use the garderobe first?” Merlin gestured to the screen, and backed away as if to leave.
Arthur looked quizzically at Merlin. After all these years, surely Merlin knew that Arthur moved his bowels in the morning.
“What on earth are you talking about, Merlin?” But Merlin was already filling a small pail with hot water from the bath. He handed it to Arthur with a significant look. “Ah. Yes, perhaps I will. A little privacy, please?”
“Of course. I’ll just go see how Gwen is doing.”
Merlin lit two thick candles sitting on the table next to Arthur’s bed and exited through the short connecting corridor at the rear of Arthur’s chambers, carrying one of the candles with him. The door to the Queen’s chambers was closed, but would be opened later so they could move freely between rooms. Merlin knocked and entered, placing the lit candle in an empty candelabra near Guinevere’s bed.
Guinevere and Lancelot were finishing their meal. Many times the four of them ate together, and Merlin often joined Gwen and Lance when Arthur was going to be late, but tonight he felt like an intruder. In the corner, he saw drying sheets peeking out from behind the changing screen, and he smelled the lavender scent Gwen liked in her bathwater. Candles were lit in the sconces, and the bed was freshly made, with a large mound of pillows at the head. Gwen was in her dressing gown, her hair mostly pulled back except for a few damp pieces hanging loose. Lance was barefoot. He wore loose trousers and a tunic, and his hair appeared damp as well.
“Excuse me,” he said, gesturing to the graduated candle he had just delivered. “I just needed to bring this over. Do you think you can be ready in a candlemark?”
Guinevere and Lancelot smiled grimly at each other. “Yes, of course,” Gwen said.
“I’ll knock in a candlemark,” said Lancelot.
“As will I,” said Merlin.
Merlin bowed awkwardly, a gesture he’d never perfected as a servant and practiced little now in his role as advisor and consort. He supposed there was nothing else left to say. They’d been over this so many times already.
***
Arthur was in the bath when Merlin returned. If he heard Merlin enter, he didn’t show it, keeping his head tipped back and his eyes closed. Merlin checked the candle on the bedside table and, satisfied that it was burning evenly, he took several items from the drawer and laid them next to the candle. He shut his eyes for a moment, mentally reviewing the plan for the evening. He breathed deeply, trying to quell his rising anxiety.
The swooshing sound of Arthur shifting in his bath brought Merlin back to the present.
“Are you planning to bathe as well?” Arthur was standing in a small puddle by the side of the bath, one drying sheet knotted at his waist while he scrubbed another across his hair.
“Oh. Yes, I suppose I should, shouldn’t I?” Merlin stood from where he had been perched at the edge of the bed. Despite his many years in the royal household, daily bathing was still not his preference. He imagined that Arthur, who had grown up with large tubs and as much heated bathwater as he could ever require, was accustomed to it, but too much bathing made Merlin’s skin itch. Nevertheless, a quick wash as a courtesy to Gwen was certainly in order.
Arthur had put on his dressing gown and was finger combing his hair as Merlin whispered a brief spell to refresh the bath water and stepped into the tub. He soaped up a clean cloth and ran it between his legs, under his arms, and around his neck and ears. He rinsed quickly, and popped up just a moment later. Arthur was still standing at the mirror fussing with his fringe as Merlin stepped out of the bath, suddenly worried beyond all reason as to what he should wear.
Merlin was never one for laying about in the evenings; he worked until bedtime. He didn’t own any dressing gowns, and the few pairs of pajamas that he kept were for winter -- far too warm for this spring evening. For lack of anything better, he pulled on the trousers and tunic he had just been wearing, and walked over to the bed, where Arthur was now seated.
“When do we start?”
“I asked them to be ready in a candlemark. We have a few more minutes. Here, there’s something I need to take care of.” Merlin sank to the floor between Arthur’s knees, reaching into the opening of Arthur’s dressing gown for his cock. It was soft, but warm and still a little moist from the bath. His pubic hair was springy from having just been toweled dry. Merlin lowered his head and began sucking wetly. Soft like this, he could fit Arthur’s entire cock in his mouth with no trouble at all. Merlin closed his eyes, tasting Arthur’s skin. He swirled his tongue, pressing Arthur’s cockhead gently against the roof of his mouth.
“Merlin --” Arthur was leaning back on this hands, his head nodding forward and his eyes closed.
“Shhh.” Merlin rose up off his heels and reached for a soft length of leather thong on the bedside table, placing it on the floor by his knees. Arthur was almost fully hard now. Merlin resumed licking his shaft and rolling his balls in the palm of his hand, and then pressed firmly on the soft area just behind Arthur’s sac. When he felt the skin of Arthur’s shaft grow tight under his tongue, he resumed sucking lightly at the head of his cock. Merlin put his hands on Arthur’s hips and urged him forward, to the very edge of the bed, then pulled the dressing gown fully open and spread Arthur’s thighs wide. He suckled the head of Arthur’s cock a moment longer. Then, working as quickly as he could manage, he picked up the leather thong and wound it tightly around the base of Arthur’s cock, and around his balls as well.
“What the hell --” Arthur stood up just as Merlin secured the end of the thong. His dressing gown was hanging off his shoulders.
Just a precaution, Arthur. You need to release your seed into Gwen’s womb. This will prevent any, um, accidents.” Merlin was relieved he had been able to bind Arthur’s privates as quickly as he had. He was certain Arthur would have deflated by now at the mere hint that he might come from having Lancelot probing his arse. As it was, Arthur’s cock was still standing tall, his balls pink and tight, even if Arthur’s expression was one more of outrage than arousal. Merlin picked up the vial of oil he had set on the table earlier. “Now, if you’d like, I could get started on you before Lance arrives?”
Arthur glared at him, but they both tensed when they heard the knock. Arthur quickly closed his dressing gown while Merlin put the oil back on the table and ducked into the rear corridor to open the door.
“Remember, you need to come through as soon as you get the signal. You have to be ready, Arthur.” Merlin glanced briefly at Lancelot, who gripped his shoulder as Merlin stepped around him in the narrow hallway.
Merlin paused for a moment in the corridor outside Gwen’s door. He could hear Lancelot greet Arthur, but then their voices faded to a murmur as they moved further into Arthur’s chambers. Alone here, outside Gwen’s door, he could almost pretend that none of this was happening, that he was simply about to pay a visit to his friend the Queen, rather than perform an untried fertility ritual and, incidentally, fuck a girl for the first time.
But no. This was not a productive train of thought. Merlin sniffed at his armpit, regretted not having cleaned his teeth since the morning, and knocked.
***
“Hello, Merlin.”
It hadn’t occurred to Merlin that Gwen would be seated right where he had left her just a little while before. He hadn’t even been aware that he had been imagining it, but he had somehow expected to find her reclined on her bed, her dressing gown loosely belted to show off her ample breasts, and the line of her leg exposed. Finding her sitting at her table, looking at him shyly, reminded him of nothing so much as the afternoons they spent together when he first arrived in Camelot, sharing a brief break from their chores in Morgana’s chambers. He relaxed a little. He could do this.
“Um, look Gwen. I know we’ve all talked about this a hundred times but there’s something I want you to know --”
Gwen stood and took Merlin’s hands in hers. Holding her hands made him realize how cold his fingers were. She rubbed his hands with hers and smiled.
“I know, Merlin. You love Arthur. So do I. So do we all.” She led him over to the bed and sat down on the edge, guiding him to sit next to her.
“That’s not what I meant.” Gwen tilted her head questioningly, and suddenly Merlin was relieved to be explaining this to her, to someone who always seemed ready to listen. “I mean, yes, of course I love Arthur, and I know you do, and I know Lance does too. But that’s not what I want to tell you.” Merlin took a breath, loosening what had become a tight grip on Gwen’s hands.
“Here’s the thing. I’ve never done this before.” Gwen looked up at him, surprised but still listening. “I was so innocent when I left Ealdor. There was a time, when I first came to Camelot, when I thought you might be the one to change that. I remember that time when I was sick and feverish, and you kissed me when I woke up, and I thought that maybe after that you might kiss me again, but I never knew how to make that happen. And then it seemed the moment passed. You know the rest. There wasn’t really another chance. And now, of course, well -- Arthur -- he’s everything.” Merlin had managed to look Gwen in the eye, but here he bowed his head. “So I guess you’re going to have to show me what to do, because I really don’t know.”
Gwen was still perched with him on the edge of her bed, holding his hands in hers, brows knitted faintly with concern. She nodded.
“Thank you for telling me, Merlin. But you know, I don’t think it’s so very different. This is a little strange for me too.” Gwen settled herself a bit more on the bed and seemed to think for a moment. “Do you like to kiss?” And with that, Gwen leaned forward and pressed her lips lightly to Merlin’s, pulling back almost immediately to test his reaction.
Merlin did like to kiss. He wrapped one arm lightly around Gwen’s shoulder, then realized almost a moment too late that he needed to aim lower to account for her smaller stature. He found that he liked the way she smelled, and the way she needed to tilt her chin up to meet him. Holding her like this made him feel large and broad in a way he never felt with Arthur. Despite having just asked Gwen to please take care of him, he felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. He tightened his hold around her shoulder, picturing himself easing her smoothly to the bed and running his hand along her breast and throat before claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss -- but then he overbalanced and had to let go almost immediately to avoid toppling into her.
“Sorry --”
“That’s all right.” Gwen shifted back more, leaning onto the pile of pillows at the head of the bed and reaching her hands out to Merlin invitingly.
And there she was, just like Merlin had thought he would see her -- reclining in the soft candlelight, hair tumbling around her shoulders, dressing gown loosened, the tops of her breasts and the smooth expanse of her thigh visible. Merlin’s mouth suddenly went dry and he froze, not knowing how to proceed. Unsure of where to put his hands, he clutched them in his lap.
“Merlin, what’s the matter?” Gwen patted the bed next to her.
Merlin closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Gwen. I really don’t know if I can do this.”
Gwen reached forward to grab his wrist and tugged him toward her firmly. Merlin found himself lying on his side next to her, his nose in her neck.
Of course you can. You were doing fine. Here, let me.” Gwen loosened his laces and worked her hand inside the flap of his breeches. She came up on one elbow, rolling him fully onto his back, and smiled at him reassuringly. And Merlin became simultaneously aware that Gwen’s breasts were resting heavily on his arm, that her hand was still fishing around in his breeches, tugging on his pubic hair, and that his cock had gone into hiding. Merlin shut his eyes again, then startled when Gwen finally got a grip on his frightened cock.
“Merlin, Merlin. This isn’t going to work if you don’t relax. It’s all right. Just keep your eyes closed for now, and I’m going to stop talking.”
And Merlin did try to relax. He unfurrowed his brow, he exhaled, and he tried to concentrate on the feeling of a warm hand on his cock. Gwen petted him gently at first, and then more firmly. After a minute or two he felt the bed shift next to him as she came up on her knees. Then Merlin heard the soft whispering sound of her dressing gown as she straddled his knees and worked his breeches down his thighs.
“Shhh. Keep your eyes closed,” Gwen whispered.
The next thing Merlin felt was Gwen’s mouth on his cock, as it finally began to harden. It was just a few licks and kisses, but her mouth was hot and her lips were soft, and Merlin always liked having his cock sucked. After a minute or so of enthusiastic sucking his erection sprung up fully. He felt his cock slap his belly, and he lifted his head to find Gwen smiling up at him.
“There we are,” she said, eyeing his cock. Gwen shifted up his body so that she was straddling his hips, bunching her dressing gown up around the tops of her thighs. Then she sat down fully, and oh, those were the lips of her cunt, planted warmly against his shaft. Gwen wiggled a little. Merlin felt the moistness of her folds shifting over him, and the crinkly texture of her pubic hair.
“Mmmm. That’s nice,” she said, riding him a little.
“Mmhm.” Merlin brought his hands up to rest on Gwen’s hips, admiring her breasts, which were now fully on view. He was grateful for her directness, but beginning to feel that he should be a more active participant. “What do you want?”
“Just stay there. Let me do this.” Gwen put one hand down next to Merlin’s head, and lifted up off him slightly. She took hold of his cock with the other hand, lifting it a little and bringing the tip up against her. Merlin was confused. He didn’t think he could get inside her from this angle -- his cock needed to stand up more, didn’t it? But then Gwen started moving back and forth against the head of his cock, using it like a finger to rub herself. Merlin felt her wetness and his own precome as the slide increased. He pushed up a little but he didn’t feel any give, just more slick skin and the bone of her pelvis underneath.
“Nnn. Not yet.” Gwen held his cock closer to the base now, sweeping the head of it from front to back between her lips. And then, finally, she came up higher, pointed his cock up tall, and eased down onto it.
“Oohh.” Merlin had never felt this before. Gwen’s cunt felt tight and moist and warm, but he could also feel it opening to accommodate him. Merlin had fucked Arthur, of course. More at the start of their relationship than in recent years, but Merlin recalled the searing heat of Arthur’s hole -- tight enough nearly to strangle Merlin’s cock, and probably too dry the first couple of times they had tried it, but Arthur had always been too impatient for much preparation. Arthur had never yielded for him like this. And they both liked it so much better the other way around that he had never really had to learn how.
Gwen shifted her hips from side to side so she could sink down fully, spreading her knees to bring her weight down onto Merlin’s pelvis and planting her palms on his chest. Merlin realized, with some embarrassment, that he was still mostly clothed. He tried to wiggle out of his tunic but only managed to ruck it up under his armpits. He gave up the struggle entirely when Gwen began to ride him in earnest.
***
“Good evening, sire.”
“Good evening, Lancelot.” Arthur couldn’t recall the last time he had felt so foolish. Here he was, standing by the side of his bed and greeting his first knight and wife’s lover with his cock and balls trussed like some game bird about to be roasted, and his erection nudging at the opening of his hastily closed dressing gown. Lancelot seemed unperturbed as always, with hardly a hair out of place. He gripped Arthur’s forearm in the traditional manner, looking for all the world like he was about to outline his training regimen for the new recruits rather than stick his finger up Arthur’s arse.
“Why don’t you lie down, Arthur?” Lancelot gestured to the bed and glanced over to the items Merlin had left on the bedside table -- the vial of oil, a hand towel, and a smooth section of carved wood with a knob at one end.
Arthur bristled momentarily at being ordered about in his own chambers, but he also knew that the time for fighting this situation had long since passed. He sat at the edge of the bed and watched as Lancelot made a small mound of pillows in the middle of the bedcover.
“Here.” Lancelot scooted away from the center of the bed, indicating for Arthur to lie down. Keeping his dressing gown pulled tightly around him, Arthur arranged himself face down over the pillows, pushing them aside a bit in front to make room for his erection. Arthur folded his arms, put his head down, and exhaled.
The next thing Arthur felt were Lancelot’s hands, slippery with oil, resting firmly against the backs of his thighs, just above his knees. After a moment, Lancelot’s hands began to move, kneading firmly against Arthur’s tight hamstrings. Arthur groaned as Lancelot’s thumbs worked against the cord of muscle running up his thigh, and reached up under his dressing gown to follow the muscle to the point where it met his buttocks.
“Shhh. Arthur. Let me.” Arthur spread his legs wider to give Lancelot room to kneel between them. Lancelot poured a bit more oil on his hands, sweeping them all the way down to the backs of Arthur’s knees, and then up again to the swell of his arse, then down again, and up, in a rhythm that Arthur found relaxing. With each pass of his hands, Lancelot’s thumbs reached a little further, dipped a little more toward Arthur’s inner thighs, his wrists edging the hem of the dressing gown up and up and up, until on the next stroke Arthur’s cleft was exposed and Lancelot’s oiled thumbs were pressing closer toward his hot center, pulling Arthur’s cheeks apart. Arthur felt Lancelot lean forward, felt Lancelot’s hot breath on his exposed backside --
“What do you think you’re doing?!” Arthur came up on his elbows, twisting around to find Lancelot kneeling awkwardly, trying not to topple onto Arthur’s back. Lancelot regained his balance and sat back on his heels.
“Arthur. Sire. I’m just doing what we all agreed was necessary.”
“I hardly think it’s necessary for you to be … inspecting me.” Arthur reached back to tug his dressing gown back down to cover his arse, but loosened it a bit in the process so that it was almost fully open in front.
“I trust that you can continue in a dignified manner.” Arthur glared a bit, then settled again stiffly onto the mound of pillows, this time feeling his exposed prick rubbing against the velvet pillow covers.
“Yes Arthur.” Lancelot pushed gently at Arthur’s inner knees, coaxing them further apart again, but leaving the hem of his dressing gown alone. He resumed the rhythmic strokes that Arthur had enjoyed earlier. This time he used just one hand, holding the dressing gown with the other hand to keep it from riding up, thereby preserving Arthur’s modesty.
Lancelot poured more oil into his hand and resumed stroking, rubbing the pad of his thumb firmly down Arthur’s cleft, pausing briefly at the tight furl of his arse and continuing down to the back of his sac. Arthur squirmed a little, feeling the oil work its way under the leather cord binding his balls, but did not protest. Lancelot rubbed the length of Arthur’s cleft several times, each time digging a little further in. Soon Lancelot shortened his strokes, so that his thumb was circling Arthur’s hole, massaging the rim and then ever so slowly screwing inside.
Arthur breathed forcefully through his nose, bracing himself for the burning sensation he associated with being penetrated in this way. He felt Lancelot press one hand against the back of his thigh reassuringly, and then work his thumb further in. Arthur felt himself tighten around it involuntarily, but Lancelot’s thumb was very slippery and there was no discomfort, just the strangeness of feeling something foreign inside. A few more shallow thrusts with his thumb and then Arthur felt Lancelot’s oily palm cupping his balls, his fingers sliding down to rub Arthur’s cock, smearing more oil in and around the leather binding. Lancelot held his thumb still, letting Arthur feel the full length of it, before pulling out entirely and replacing his thumb with two fingers.
Arthur exhaled sharply again, recognizing the stretch but again surprised that this was not particularly painful. Lancelot worked his fingers in slowly, twisting them as he went past the second knuckle. On the next thrust, Lancelot crooked his fingers and Arthur groaned, feeling his legs tense underneath him as he tried to get some of his weight onto his knees. And then Lancelot began fingerfucking him in earnest, rubbing and tapping on that spot inside. And Arthur, much to his own surprise, was pushing back hard to meet him, feeling the slide of his prick against the soft velvet pillows.
It was too good, almost too much on his oversensitive prick, and he needed more. He felt full, but he wanted it deeper, wanted to feel even fuller. Arthur came up on elbows and knees, his back arched. He could hear Lancelot breathing heavily behind him, could feel him gripping Arthur’s hip so that Arthur’s return thrusts didn’t knock him backwards.
“More,” Arthur groaned, his face heated with embarrassment. “More.”
Lancelot removed his fingers abruptly, scrambling off the bed to reach the shaft of carved wood still sitting on the bedside table.
Arthur lifted his head to see what Lancelot was doing. “Not that. Use your prick.”
***
Merlin recovered quickly from his initial surprise at finding Gwen bouncing up and down on his cock. He let her set the pace, but as soon as he felt he could predict her movements, he began rocking his pelvis up to meet her. He liked watching her breasts move as she fucked him, and the way her hair spilled onto her shoulders. Soon he felt the urge to plant his feet flat on the bed and thrust hard. He must have closed his eyes, because the next thing he knew, Gwen was calling his name.
“Merlin. Merlin.”
He looked up at her in surprise, halting his thrusts in case he was hurting her.
“Is it time to -- ” Gwen looked at him questioningly, and wiggled her fingers in front of her.
“Oh! Sorry!” Merlin moved his hands from where they had been resting on Gwen’s hips and reached up for her breasts to thumb her nipples. “Is that -- ?”
Gwen caught his wrists. “Um. No. I mean, that’s lovely but that’s not what I meant. I thought perhaps you were about to reach your release?”
Yes, of course. The spell. Merlin had practiced it, and he’d been pleased with the results he’d seen in the potted medicinal plants he was able to grow indoors. But he hadn’t previously tried it when he was on the brink of orgasm. And now this break in his rhythm had taken the edge off.
“Um. Not right this moment, no.” Gwen looked disappointed. But then she was leaning back against his bent legs, squirming a bit to readjust her weight. Merlin felt her crotch grind against his. “Mmmm. Oh, that’s nice, could you --?”
Gwen circled her hips, squeezing him lightly, and Merlin felt his orgasm approach from where it had retreated, just out of reach. He felt a sudden desperation, not wanting it to elude him again.
“Stroke me,” he whispered. Merlin grabbed Gwen’s wrist, tried to direct her hand behind her, hoping she’d understand. She did. Gwen leaned back and reached between Merlin’s legs, cupping his balls and rubbing his hole as she continued to grind and squeeze.
All it took was a moment and Merlin felt his body tense. It was time. “Paratoi pridd i dderbyn hadau. Gadewch y bydd yn cymryd gwraidd a thyfu.” Merlin was just able to gasp out the last words as he felt his seed shoot out of him and into the warmth of Gwen’s body. In his mind’s eye, he could see the fluid coursing toward her womb, pulsing with magic and life.
But he had only a moment to collect himself. As quickly as he could manage, he rolled Gwen onto her back, stuffed a pillow under her buttocks, and closed her dressing gown around her as best he could. Then he looked over to the candle he had brought in earlier. He whispered a quick spell, and watched as the flame turned bright red and began to blink.
“There. They should see that in a moment. Just try to stay still.” Merlin hiked up his breeches and sat on the bed at Gwen’s side, waiting for Arthur.
***
Arthur was sweating. He was braced on his elbows, his head hanging down, perspiration pooling at the nape of his neck and the small of his back. Behind him, Lancelot was relentless, pounding into him in a rhythm both punishing and rewarding. A minute ago, Lancelot had grabbed Arthur’s hips and hauled them up high, thrusting down hard to hit the spot that Merlin had told them would increase Arthur’s seed. On every thrust Arthur could feel Lancelot’s balls swing and slap against his own, which felt tight and ready to burst at any moment. Arthur was desperate to come, but Merlin’s bindings were holding fast, and no matter how close Arthur thought he was getting, his orgasm stayed just out of reach. He didn’t know how much more he could take and, from the sound of it, Lancelot was struggling to hold off as well. The uh-uh-uh sounds that Lancelot made with each thrust were becoming increasingly ragged and breathy.
Arthur lifted his head to try to wipe his brow. Behind his closed eyelids, Arthur saw red, and then the red began to pulse.
“Lancelot! Lancelot, stop!” Arthur looked at the red flame of the candle with alarm.
“Unh. Sire, no, please. Just -- ”
“No, they’re ready.” Arthur bucked his hips forcefully to dislodge Lancelot, who was squatting rather precariously over Arthur’s arse. “Quickly. Cover yourself, and assist me to Guinevere’s chambers.”
Lancelot untangled his breeches from where they had wrapped themselves around one of his ankles and quickly tied the laces in a loose knot. The tip of his erection was poking up above his waistband, smearing oil across his abdomen, but there was no time to spare. His tunic was long enough to cover his arousal, and his own release would have to wait.
Arthur had belted his dressing gown, but seemed unaware that his cock was jutting out of the opening. He was swaying slightly and seemed unsteady on his feet. Lancelot pulled Arthur’s arm over his shoulder and guided him into the hallway.
***
After what seemed to Merlin like an eternity, he heard shuffling footsteps in the hall.
When Arthur first appeared in the doorway he looked like something out of Merlin’s worst nightmares -- a battlefield casualty, ragged, beyond exhaustion, supported by one of his knights. But then Merlin’s gaze shifted and he took in the high color on Arthur’s cheeks, the sweat dampened hair, the glazed eyes, and the angry red cock poking defiantly out of Arthur’s dressing gown. Merlin smiled to himself and rose quickly from Gwen’s side to meet Arthur and Lancelot halfway across the room. Once Lancelot was certain Arthur wouldn’t collapse, he hurried over to the bed to sit near Gwen’s shoulder.
“Arthur, Arthur. Are you all right?” Merlin tried to support some of Arthur’s weight, but Arthur now seemed determined to walk on his own, if a bit gingerly.
“Yes, yes, Merlin. Aside from the fact that my prick is about to fall off, I’m fine.” Arthur was pulling at his dressing gown to keep the fabric from rubbing against his cock. His skin was so sensitive there he thought it was about to split right open.
“Will you,” Arthur waved in front of him, “get this off me.”
Arthur knelt at the foot of Guinevere’s bed. Merlin came to his side, while Lancelot sat beside Gwen, stroking her hair and murmuring to her.
“Not yet, Arthur. Here, scoot up some more -- we don’t want to let you loose too soon.” Merlin coaxed Arthur up the bed, motioning to Lancelot, who placed a hand at Gwen’s knee, hiking her dressing gown up and drawing her legs apart to reveal where the moisture still glistened on her inner thighs. Merlin gaped for a moment, getting his first good look at where he had just been. Arthur cleared his throat, and Merlin schooled his expression.
“Come forward a bit. Good.”
Arthur positioned himself so that he was just in front of the pillows Merlin had placed under Gwen’s hips.
“Now brace your hands here.” Merlin guided Arthur forward and down so that he was leaning on his forearms, his hands just under Gwen’s armpits.
“Hello Guinevere,” Arthur grimaced. He turned his head to the side, not wanting to intrude on her and Lancelot any more than was necessary.
“Hello Arthur.” Gwen touched his cheek briefly.
“I’m going to put it in now. Just breathe.” Merlin reached under, guiding Arthur’s shaft so that just the tip was inside Gwen’s cunt. He had seen the royal stable master do something similar years ago when one of prize stallions was injured and needed help breeding. Merlin could not resist running a hand soothingly down Arthur’s flank.
“All right. Now, Lance, would you please, um -- ” They had previously discussed the need for this, and Lancelot kindly did not require Merlin to finish his sentence. Instead, Lancelot sat up, reached between Gwen and Arthur, and began petting gently at Gwen’s mound, slowly working his middle finger into her slit.
“How is that Gwen? Remember, we need those muscles to help conduct the seed.” Merlin didn’t want to leave anything to chance. Loosening the bindings before Gwen’s inner muscles could assist Arthur’s seed in reaching her womb would decrease their chance of success. He really didn’t want to have to try this again.
Merlin couldn’t see Gwen’s face, obscured by Arthur’s head and shoulders looming over her. But Lancelot looked at him with his eyebrows raised and his meaning was clear. Shut up please.
Lancelot kept his hand moving rhythmically as he shifted to lie down on his side, pressed up against Gwen. Arthur held himself still, willing himself not to notice the back of Lancelot’s hand pressing into his abdomen, or the way Lancelot rolled his hips against Gwen’s thigh. Soon, Lancelot was swallowing Gwen’s moans with his kisses, and Merlin could see her rocking against Lancelot’s hand.
“Mmm. Yes. I’m getting close.” Merlin found Gwen’s throaty whisper unexpectedly arousing.
“Hold on Arthur. I’m going to untie this now.” Arthur was now grunting with the effort of holding himself suspended over Guinevere as she rubbed against Lancelot’s hand. Merlin felt around at the base of Arthur’s cock, finally locating the loose end of the leather thong and working it free. Arthur sighed as the pressure on his cock and balls was finally relieved, and Merlin pushed firmly on Arthur’s hips to push him all the way into Gwen.
Merlin had not even removed his hand when he felt Arthur’s buttocks tense and he heard Arthur’s low groan. “Unh. UNH. Gods.” Merlin watched as the muscles of Arthur’s hips flexed again and again as his orgasm tore through him and he pumped his seed into Gwen. A moment later, he saw Gwen tense and arch.
And then, suddenly, it was over and Arthur, despite his best efforts, collapsed heavily onto Guinevere, as Lancelot sat up at her side and continued to soothe her.
Merlin had his hands on Arthur’s shoulders in a flash. “Come on Arthur. Up you go. Lance, more pillows please.” Merlin busied himself elevating Gwen’s hips even further as Arthur crawled backwards towards the foot of the bed, closing his dressing gown around him.
“All right, Gwen. You need to stay still for at least another hour or, really, as long as you can manage.” Merlin glanced over to the bed and snatched up the oily length of leather, stuffing it in his pocket.
“We’ll leave you two.” Merlin walked over to the bedside and took Guinevere’s hand. “Good night, Gwen.”
She squeezed his hand briefly. “Good night, Merlin. Thank you.”
Arthur leaned down to kiss his wife on the cheek. “Guinevere.”
“Good night, Arthur.”
Lancelot, ever the gentleman, came around the bed to shake hands with them both.
As Merlin closed the door to Gwen’s chambers behind them, he saw Lancelot adjust the pillows around Gwen, and saw her smile brilliantly at him.
***
“I’d never done that before.”
They had both washed up, and Merlin had magicked the oil slick from the middle of the bed. Now they were lying together under a light blanket, Arthur sprawled on his back as usual, and Merlin curled against Arthur’s side, with one arm thrown across Arthur’s chest and one leg hiked across Arthur’s thigh.
“Mmmm?” Arthur sounded drowsy.
“I wanted to tell you. When we were planning this all out. But it seemed silly to mention it.” Merlin paused. “And I guess I wasn’t sure what you would think.”
Arthur picked up his head a bit to look more closely at Merlin, but the room was very dark. “What I would think?”
“You know. A man my age. Still inexperienced with women.” Merlin was glad for the darkness. It was much easier to say these things while he was touching Arthur, but not actually looking at him.
Arthur rolled to his side, gathering Merlin close to his chest. “You do know that Guinevere is the only woman I’ve ever known, don’t you?”
“Mm. I suppose.”
“So why is this any different? Merlin, you were practically a boy when you came to Camelot. Anyone could tell you were an innocent. And you were hardly out of my sight those first few years -- I hadn’t imagined you were off tumbling bar maids.”
“So you knew.” Merlin wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or annoyed.
“Well, I can’t say I thought about it, but I suppose I did.”
Merlin burrowed a little further into Arthur’s chest, rubbing his nose and cheek into the hair that had grown thicker over the years. Arthur rumbled in appreciation; he liked being petted there. Merlin decided his relief was greater than his annoyance. After a moment’s silence, Arthur spoke again.
“So what did you think?”
“I liked it.” Merlin felt his face heat up, even though he was speaking into Arthur’s armpit. “It was nice, being inside like that.” Arthur grunted affirmatively, which Merlin took as encouragement to continue. “She rode me, so she was able to control it, I guess. But, yeah. It was good. Wetter than I expected.” Merlin wasn’t really sure how much more to say to Arthur about the relative merits of fucking his wife. He trailed off.
“How did it go with you and Lance?” Merlin wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer, but he felt it was only polite to ask.
“It was fine, Merlin.”
Long moments passed, and they both settled into their usual positions for falling asleep. Arthur was breathing evenly, but Merlin knew he couldn’t be under yet. And here, in the dark and quiet warmth of their own bed, after all that had happened this evening, he thought that maybe he could ask.
“Do…? Um…? Do you think we could try it again? With me inside?”
“Yes, Merlin.”
* * *
Somehow, Gwen had fallen asleep with three pillows propped under her bottom and Lance’s head resting on her arm. She woke with a start in the middle of the night. And it wasn’t the fact that she had lost feeling entirely from the shoulder down that woke her, nor was it the rasp of Lance’s whiskers on her skin, or even the fact that she desperately needed to empty her bladder.
No. What woke her was the pulsing blue light emanating from her abdomen and the accompanying certainty that new life had taken root.