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“Please,” cried Arthur. “No more.”
Merlin finished the incantation and pushed back in with a grunt. Arthur wailed brokenly but was otherwise compliant. He had lost the ability to protest somewhere between the fifth and sixth time Merlin had fucked him open and made him a receptacle for his come.
“You can do it, Arthur,” Merlin said tenderly, completely at odds with the way he was slamming into Arthur’s arse. “I know you can.”
Arthur sobbed. Merlin had kept him like this all day, kept Arthur beneath him and caged his cock and balls with magic so he could not find release, no matter how frantically he rubbed off against the sheets or tried to sneak a hand over his prick.
Instead, Merlin had opened him up with deft fingers until Arthur was a shaking mess and fucked him brutally fast, pounding into his prostrate till Arthur screamed and filling him up with his hot come. Arthur had thought that was it, panting into the sheets, and had wondered if Merlin would let him come if he begged nicely enough.
Then he’d heard Merlin incant under his breath, a familiar sound. “What are you doing?” he said, looking over his shoulder. Merlin’s palm was splayed towards his own groin, his eyes glowing gold. As Arthur watched, Merlin’s spent cock began to fill, flushing red, and grew erect. His balls visibly tightened, drawing up, ready to spend despite the evidence of his climax still leaking down Arthur’s thighs.
Merlin grinned when he saw Arthur’s slack-jawed expression. “Handy, isn’t it?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
Arthur swallowed. “Are you—are you going to—”
“Yes.” Merlin slapped his arse playfully. “Go on, get back up.”
Arthur stumbled up onto his hands and knees. He groaned when he felt Merlin pry his buttocks apart with his fingers and enter him with a hard thrust. Merlin was big, much bigger than Arthur, big enough that the first time they’d fucked Arthur had felt it for days afterward, had ached painfully while he trained with the knights and sat on the hard council chair during his father’s meetings. Arthur had taken great care not to limp or wince when Merlin was around, but he had known anyway, had fetched Gaius’s salve and massaged Arthur’s shoulders and back and arse and thighs until he was a quivering heap and stroked him to a shuddering orgasm.
Now, Merlin slid inside Arthur as easily as if he were a woman. The thought made Arthur flush. It was as though Merlin had carved out a spot for himself inside Arthur, had moulded Arthur into the shape that pleased him. He was sticky wet with Merlin’s come and the oil they’d used earlier, and Merlin’s cock made squelching noises as it plunged inside him, forcing Merlin’s come deeper inside him.
Merlin’s cock was so hard inside him, unyieldingly hard, despite having spent moments ago, and when it began battering at his prostate, Arthur screamed and thrashed about, trying desperately to jerk his hips forward. There was no point. The stranglehold of Merlin’s magic on Arthur’s orgasm was as unforgiving as Merlin’s thrusts, and Arthur knew he would not come until Merlin wanted him to.
Merlin’s hips snapped against his arse, speeding up even further, and Arthur’s arms gave out as he collapsed into a writhing heap. The only thing keeping his knees upright was Merlin’s palms clamped over his hips. The world had narrowed down to the sensation of Merlin’s cock splitting him open, and there was nothing he could do but lie there and take it. Nothing mattered, not even his own pleasure. The only thing of any consequence was Merlin’s grunts of ecstasy as he fucked Arthur’s pliant body, his long moan as he jerked inside Arthur and came for the second time, shooting his load deep inside his rectum.
He pulled out, and Arthur’s knees slid along the sweat-dampened sheet as they finally gave out. Arthur panted into the sheets, teeth clamped around the fabric he’d bitten into to muffle a scream. He lay there, unable to move, a mess of outspread limbs.
He could hear when Merlin’s breathing eventually slowed behind him, and he was unsurprised when he heard the whispered incantation. Merlin wasn’t done with him. Arthur knew he would not leave this bed until he was.
From then on, it was mostly a blur. Arthur lost consciousness after what must have been the fourth time, the interminable throb of blood in his cock and balls making him faint. Arthur hadn’t thought to look down, had mostly become a drooling, sobbing wreck at Merlin’s onslaught, but he knew that if he glanced down his cock would be alarmingly purple with unquenched arousal. Arthur wasn’t aware of much. There was Merlin’s cock, huge and hard and unrelenting. There was the red hot pain in his inflamed hole, which throbbed every time Merlin shifted inside him. There was the warm gush of Merlin’s come, filling him up over and over and over again until Arthur felt it everywhere—in his arse, his belly, his throat. With every thrust, Merlin fucked the excess of his come deeper into Arthur’s bowels, some of it trickling down the insides of Arthur’s thighs. Merlin was diligent though. Arthur could tell he was taking care not to let any of it spill, to pump Arthur chock full of it.
“You’ve been so good to me, Arthur,” Merlin said now, still ramming into him. Arthur took it, unmoving, whining helplessly into the sheets that were a mess of sweat and spit and tears. “Do you know how many times I came today?” When Arthur didn’t answer, Merlin jabbed at his prostrate punishingly. Arthur wailed.
“N-no,” he whimpered.
“Eight times.” He was smiling; Arthur could hear it in his voice. He punctuated the words with another hard thrust. “I came eight times inside you.”
Arthur made a mewling noise as Merlin’s thrusts grew more erratic, drilling into his prostrate, his overused arsehole screaming with raw pain. He was nothing, he was inconsequential, nothing but a hole for Merlin to fuck into and fill up as he pleased. There was one last jab, and then Merlin jerked inside him and came for the ninth time with a groan. They lay here, panting, for a while until Merlin pulled out with a hiss. Arthur sobbed as a fresh wave of blinding pain lanced through his opening.
“Arthur,” said Merlin, his palms flitting over Arthur’s sides soothingly. “Would you turn over for me?”
He sounded so tender, so sweetly deferential, even after the thorough devastation he’d wreaked upon Arthur’s body and his senses. Arthur knew in that moment that he would never permit anyone else to touch him for as long as he lived. Merlin had been undoing him with his smiles and his insolence and the fierceness of his loyalty from the moment they’d met, and he’d finished the job with his addictive devotion and the systematic brutality with which he claimed Arthur. He had inexorably created a space for himself within Arthur that no one else could fill, that would completely obliterate Arthur were Merlin ever to leave. The thought should have terrified him. He could not bring himself to care.
“Arthur,” Merlin prompted gently.
Arthur tried to manoeuvre his limbs into motion, but they were uncooperative, heavy, and he was as weak as a newborn babe. He felt Merlin take him into his arms and arrange him to his satisfaction. Arthur felt himself roll onto his back and blinked up at his lover blearily. Merlin looked deliciously debauched, lazy-eyed and sated, skin covered in a sheen of sweat, his quiescent cock glistening wetly against his thigh. Arthur, shockingly, felt his engorged cock give another twitch at the sight and whimpered pitifully in response, dizzied by the rush of blood to his groin.
“Look at you,” breathed Merlin. Arthur knew he must be a frightful sight, but Merlin’s voice was almost awestruck, filled with wonder and—and his palms were splayed against Arthur’s abdomen and—and—
Oh.
“Look at that, Arthur,” said Merlin, awed, stroking Arthur’s newly bloated belly. “Look how I’ve filled you up. If you were a woman you’d be with child.”
A wave of shame rushed through Arthur. He felt himself shake, shocked and horrified. To his horror, a harsh sob escaped his throat.
“Oh, Arthur,” said Merlin, still devastatingly tender. He drew Arthur’s shuddering body into his arms. “Oh, my darling.”
Arthur let himself be hauled onto his knees, Merlin’s hands gripping his armpits to hold him up. Merlin draped himself along Arthur’s back, and Arthur slumped back into the strong line of his body, nosing at his throat desolately. In the upright position, Arthur could feel come leaking out steadily along his thighs, sticky and uncomfortable.
“I’ve got you,” murmured Merlin, wrapping his arms around Arthur’s chest securely. Arthur believed him.
Merlin’s hands slid slowly down his torso to the rounded curve of Arthur’s belly.
Arthur tried weakly to bat him away, but Merlin’s arms were like iron bands around him. His palms cupped Arthur’s distended abdomen gently.
“Do you know how you look right now?” Merlin whispered into his ear. He was smiling again; Arthur could hear it. “You look just like a common bred whore.”
And then—without warning—he pushed.
Arthur gasped when he felt Merlin’s seed gush out of him, flowing freely down the insides of his thighs and pooling on the sheets. There was so much of it, a veritable reserve of it, and Merlin kept up the pressure on Arthur’s belly, massaging intermittingly, as Arthur’s abused channel fluttered to expel its contents. It was disgusting, debasing, the way Arthur’s bowels clamped down and released copious amounts of Merlin’s stale spend, the sensation peculiar and strange. His face was wet with tears. The lower half of his body was vile and almost entirely drenched in come, but Merlin was still holding him like he was something precious.
“Come on, Arthur.” Merlin was rubbing Arthur’s belly more insistently, the steady stream down his thighs having slowed to a trickle. “Give it all up.”
Arthur sobbed and clenched until come squirted out of his hole and splattered onto the bedspread. He did it again and again, until Merlin was groaning behind him, holding him tighter and whispering encouragements, his—his cock hardening…
“No,” cried Arthur, slapping at Merlin’s forearms ineffectually. He sobbed harder, almost hyperventilating. "No, please, I can’t, I can’t.”
Merlin’s grip only tightened. “Shh, darling, I’m going to get it all out.” His thumbs hooked over the rim of Arthur’s ruined hole and pulled. Arthur howled in pain. “I’m going to fuck it right out of you.”
Merlin plunged inside him, thrusting in hard and deep, different from all the other times when he’d been so careful to keep the come inside Arthur. Now he was driving deep into Arthur, the excess spend seeping out around Merlin’s cock with every thrust, while Arthur slumped over Merlin’s chest, unable to scream, unable to emit sound, barely able to breathe. He could do nothing but kneel there and be used, panting wetly into the side of Merlin’s neck while he speared into him. Merlin sat back on his haunches and manhandled Arthur onto his lap, the position propelling his cock even deeper and stirring Arthur’s guts, making more of Merlin’s seed dribble out onto the sheets.
All at once, Merlin shoved Arthur off his cock. Arthur gasped as he fell forward on his hands and knees, the cool air a sting against his inflamed, gaping hole. He heard the undoubtable wet, slapping noises of masturbation behind him and Merlin’s groans grew louder before a warm wetness spilled all over his back.
The room was thick with the rank smell of sex, the sheets a surely unsalvageable mess, and their panting the only sounds permeating the air.
Then Merlin plastered himself over Arthur’s back and slid his hands towards his swollen cock.
“Come for me, Arthur,” he whispered, and his magic finally, finally, relinquished its hold on Arthur’s long-denied release.
Arthur came almost instantly, his cock jerking uncontrollably against his belly, spurting thick white ropes of come in long pulses. Withheld so long, the sensation was mindlessly painful in its intensity. It seemed to go on for centuries, and Merlin held him while Arthur screamed and howled his orgasm into the sheets. At some point, he blacked out, and the last thing he sensed was his cock still helplessly squirting warm liquid all over his chest and stomach.
When Arthur awoke again, it was dark out. He glanced over blearily to see Merlin asleep beside him, snoring softly. Gradually, he became aware of more, like the fact that he was still naked but had been cleaned and dried—rather thoroughly—and the blankets were drawn up around his shoulders. The sheets, too, were clean, and the air reeked less like bodily fluids and more of the soap Merlin habitually used to scrub Arthur’s quarters.
Arthur tried to shift into sitting position and gasped as sharp pain immediately flared up his backside. The muscles of his legs and back, too, protested with a dull throb.
A hand rested over his sternum, stilling him. “Lie back,” came Merlin’s soft voice.
Arthur obeyed, falling back onto the plump pillows propped up by the headboard. He saw Merlin’s eyes glow gold briefly before the fireplace came to life, crackling and spitting sparks.
“Here.” Merlin was pressing a small tincture bottle into Arthur’s palm. “It will help with the pain.”
Arthur plucked the stopper and downed the potion in one swallow. “How long was I asleep?” His voice came out hoarse. From the screaming, Arthur realised, and flushed at yet another physical reminder of all they’d done, of how wantonly he had fallen apart under Merlin’s ministrations…
“A long time,” said Merlin. “Camelot’s asleep, Arthur.”
It was almost painful to look at Merlin when he was like this, both unabashed and ruinous in his tenderness. He would get that soft look in his eyes, the one that was just for Arthur, the one that made Arthur feel like something rare and cherished. It was beyond reason. Arthur did not need coddling, shouldn’t need it; he was the future king of Camelot, for heaven’s sake. But there was a part of him that yearned constantly for Merlin’s calming reassurances and gentle embrace, a part he fought every day to suppress to no avail.
Arthur looked away and plucked at a stray thread on the bedcovers. “How did you rescue the sheets?” he joked.
Merlin smiled. “Are you forgetting that I have magic?”
Arthur raised his eyebrows. “That would rather difficult, all things considering,” he pointed out. Merlin laughed softly. “So where did you learn that spell?” asked Arthur.
“Gaius’s book, if would believe it,” said Merlin, grinning crookedly. “It’s medical—it’s meant to increase circulation in case of blood loss—but quite adaptable.”
Arthur smiled back—he couldn’t not when Merlin was like this—and they just lay there grinning stupidly at one another until Arthur cleared his throat and averted his gaze.
“You must be hungry,” Merlin said at last. “I’ll get you some food and water.”
He made to clamber off the bed, but Arthur caught him by the wrist to stop him.
“Don’t,” he choked out, when Merlin looked back at him questioningly. “Don’t go.”
The thought of Merlin leaving his side right now, of leaving Arthur alone in the warm cocoon of their bed was intolerable.
Merlin visibly softened, and his eyes became so filled with warmth and adoration Arthur had to look away. “It’s only across the room,” said Merlin. “I’ll only be a moment.”
Arthur released him reluctantly. Naked in the firelight, he was achingly beautiful, all long lines of lean muscle and unblemished swathes of moonlight pale skin. It was in moments like this that Arthur felt senselessly, mindlessly consumed by dread. Merlin was a force of nature that had stormed his life without warning and wrecked all his foundations into something unrecognisable until Arthur hardly knew who he was without him. For all that Merlin blathered on about destiny, Arthur lived in fear of the day Merlin would realise the greatest sorcerer to walk the earth deserved better than to clean up after a prince.
“There,” said Merlin, setting a tray of food on the bed between them. He whispered a word and his irises gleamed gold for an instant. “Piping hot, now,” he said, smiling at Arthur. He looked charmingly pleased with himself.
Arthur blinked at the tableau, not knowing how to ask, hardly knowing what to ask for.
Luckily, Merlin knew him better than he knew himself. “Come here,” he said, eyes soft.
Arthur went, and Merlin positioned them so that he was leaning into the mound of pillows with Arthur cuddled against his chest in the vee of his legs. Merlin tore a piece off the loaf on the tray beside them and lifted it to Arthur’s lips.
“Eat,” he murmured, and Arthur shivered at the feeling of his hot breath against his ear.
Arthur ate, accepting hunks of bread and slices of ham and fruit from Merlin’s fingers, occasionally licking up crumbs and juices with his tongue. Soon, the tray was empty, and Arthur felt more content that he had been in years, belly full and warm in the circle of Merlin’s arms.
“You’re always taking care of me,” he mumbled, eyes droopy. He knew he would soon fall asleep, and it felt absurdly right to do so in Merlin’s embrace.
Merlin nuzzled into the side of his neck. “I did put you through quite an ordeal. Seems only fair.”
“Not an ordeal,” said Arthur. “’Twas nice.”
A chuckle vibrated Merlin’s chest and jostled Arthur gently. “Just nice?” he teased.
“No,” said Arthur, suddenly more awake. “It wasn’t just nice, Merlin. It was everything I could never have asked for, but everything you knew I wanted anyway. Just as you always do.”
Merlin went perfectly still behind him, and Arthur waited, heart pounding. For all that they rescued each other from mortal peril and tried to lay down their lives for one another and worshipped each other’s bodies into the waking hours, they never really spoke about their feelings. Arthur wasn’t stupid. He knew Merlin loved him, that he was loyal to him. He knew what he himself felt for Merlin was so all-encompassing it could hardly be strung into words. But knowing it was wholly different from knowing it.
“Arthur,” said Merlin. “Look at me.”
Arthur did, turning in the circle of Merlin’s arms.
Merlin took his face in his hands and kissed him.
It was soft and reverent, a kiss that spoke of promises made and kept, of devotion that had never wavered. When they parted, Merlin rested his forehead against Arthur’s, their breaths mingling in the space between them.
“You’re everything, Arthur,” Merlin said, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying the weight of a thousand truths. His hands trembled slightly where they cupped Arthur’s face, but his eyes were steady, blazing with sincerity. “Without you… I hardly know who I am.”
Arthur’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. The words struck something deep inside him, a place he had tried to keep hidden, even from himself. He had always thought it was his duty to carry the world on his shoulders alone, but Merlin—Merlin had been there, every step of the way, holding him up, piecing him together when he fell apart.
“You have no idea,” Arthur finally said, his voice rough, “how much you mean to me.” He laughed shakily, trying to steady himself. “It’s maddening, really. I don’t know how to think without you. I don’t know how to breathe without you. You’re—” His voice broke, and he closed his eyes, drawing strength from the feel of Merlin’s hands on his skin.
“You’re my everything too,” he said at last, the words spilling out like a confession, raw and unguarded. “You’re the only thing that makes all of this—any of this—worth it.”
Merlin’s expression softened, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “Arthur,” he murmured, and the way he said his name was like a prayer, a vow, a promise all in one. He kissed him again, slower this time, as if sealing the words between them.
When they broke apart, Arthur leaned his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder, hiding his face there as the enormity of it all washed over him. Merlin held him close, one hand stroking soothingly through his hair.
“I'll never leave you,” Merlin said, his voice firm and steady. “Not as long as you’ll have me.”
Arthur’s grip on him tightened, and he let out a breath that was almost a sob. “Then stay forever,” he whispered, the words muffled against Merlin’s skin.
“Forever,” Merlin agreed, without hesitation.
They stayed like that, wrapped around each other, as the fire burned low and the world outside their room faded away. Arthur felt, for the first time in his life, a sense of completeness he couldn’t explain. With Merlin, there was no need to.
The future could wait. For now, this was all that mattered.