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The new slave is inadequate.
Arthur wants to never stop fucking him.
“What’s your name?” he says, nuzzling behind his ear where damp, dark hair curls. The slave smells good, like perfume and come. Like the fragrant oil Arthur had used to open him up—three fingers deep and so loose, pinky finger catching on the rim, wanting in. He’s all wet and slippery between his thighs, shiny in the flickering light of the candles as it clings to his skin, runs down into the sheets.
Arthur tightens his arms around the shuddering body, come-sticky fingers splayed over the flat stomach.
“Mer—Merlin.”
“Well, Merlin. That was quite fast, wasn’t it? We’ll have to work on that.” Arthur traces a finger along the softening length of Merlin’s cock and smiles at his whimper, the way his body jolts like it doesn’t know if it wants to get away from the touch—cock too sensitive—or push into it for more even though it’s only just come. He brings his hand up for Merlin to suck at his own mess, kisses the knob at the top of his spine with a smile when Merlin’s lips latches to his fingers with lazy greediness. “Rule number one: unless he orders you differently, King Uther must always come first.”
Merlin’s pale chest is red and splotchy. He squirms in Arthur’s grip.
“I’m sorry, Sire. I don’t—”
“Shhh, it’s okay.” Arthur soothes him with a hand to his ribs, down his thigh to between his legs, where he can’t help teasing the rim of Merlin’s hole with his nail; he makes such pleasing sounds. “That’s why you’re with me, see? We’ll get you there.”
They don’t.
Merlin is sensitive everywhere.
He gets hard and leaking before Arthur has even touched his cock. He shivers and moans at every brush of Arthur’s hands, and can’t help rubbing his dick on anything he can, like an overeager pup, as Arthur kisses him, makes him ride his cock, fucks him from behind. His hips constantly seek friction. Even when Arthur orders him to stay still, he can only manage it for a few brief moments before he’s back to thrashing into Arthur’s hold.
He just can’t help it.
He humps the bed or Arthur’s thigh. He whimpers around Arthur’s cock, lips stretched wide and mouth so, so hungry. Like he can’t contain any of it, can’t make his body just take it, but has to seek and take in return.
Arthur ties him up just to see how long it’ll take for Merlin to come untouched while Arthur licks and mouths at his balls. Or fingers him open and wet. Or spanks him into a red, crying mess.
It takes no time at all.
It’s the most beautiful thing Arthur’s ever seen.
Arthur’s father likes his slaves well trained and efficient. Likes them to last for hours, to know every way there is to suck a cock, to fuck and get fucked. Likes them to be good at it.
Arthur likes them new and sloppy. Likes to be the one to show them how to take a cock in their arses or cunts, to grip their hips and guide them. Likes to get his mouth on them to demonstrate, to teach. He relishes their shy smiles and embarrassed blushes, the way their bodies jerk and shiver, the way they moan and writhe and cry out in surprise before they’ve learned how to control themselves, how to fake it.
Merlin doesn’t learn.
Arthur drags him into his lap, back to chest, and opens Merlin’s legs with his knees. Merlin’s hands flutter in the air in front of them, go to his cock—blood-full and shiny from Arthur’s spit—then stop when Arthur tuts in his ear. He fists them in the sheets instead, and grinds his arse on Arthur’s lap. Arthur tips Merlin’s head back on his shoulder with a hand on his throat without squeezing—just there, feeling the way he swallows, the vibrations of his whimpers, the rabbit-skitter of his heartbeat.
“We’re going to take this slow,” Arthur says as he runs his other hand over Merlin’s chest, already sweaty and warm. Arthur flicks at Merlin’s nipples and smiles in the crook of his neck when Merlin jolts and thrusts his hips out.
Arthur spreads his legs wider.
He skims Merlin’s hard cock with his fingertips and Merlin twitches and moans in his arms—always so responsive, so eager to please. Arthur muffles a groan against Merlin’s throat, takes a deep breath to stop himself from throwing Merlin face down on the bed and fuck into him in a long, hot glide.
He’d take it so easy.
Instead, he grabs Merlin’s cock in a tight fist and tugs—once, twice—rubs the palm of his hand over the leaking head. He takes a second to taste the wetness on his skin, the saltiness of Merlin so good on his tongue.
“Wish I had a third hand or—something. Something to push inside you right now,” Arthur says, nosing along Merlin’s jaw, behind his ear. Merlin’s throat moves under his fingers as he swallows, then pants harsh little breaths between his teeth. Arthur swallows drily along with him, and brings back his hand to Merlin’s cock, keeps on tugging at it—strong, long pulls that Merlin will feel, he knows, all the way down his spread thighs, to the base of his spine. “I’d make you so full with it.”
“Sire, I—I’m—” Merlin thrusts into Arthur’s fist and Arthur knows he’s close to coming already, the beautiful red of his shame and pleasure spreading over his pale skin.
Arthur gets a punishing grip on the base of Merlin’s cock—tight, painful—and lets him thrash desperately into his hold, orgasm flaring under his skin without release. Arthur waits until he’s calmed down, gasping wet and loud as he turns his head to lick at Arthur’s face, always needing to fill his mouth with something.
“Sire,” he says, hoarse and broken. “Again.”
Arthur moans—involuntarily and loud even to his own ears—and bites at the hinge of Merlin’s jaw.
Arthur does it again. And again. His grip on Merlin gets tighter as Merlin loses control more and more, cries out every time Arthur stops him from coming. And every time he says, “again,” not even begging, but demanding.
On the fifth try Merlin stops Arthur, sweaty fingers on his wrist, and comes—comes for what feels like forever with a raw sound of relief—pleasure and pain ripped from his throat—that nearly makes Arthur come along with him.
“You’re the worst slave I’ve ever had,” he says, delighted at Merlin’s impudence. His cock is so stiff between Merlin’s cheeks, rubbed tight and warm. He holds Merlin to his chest, drags his lips over Merlin’s cheek to lick at the corner of his opened mouth. “I’m keeping you.”