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The sky shed the night slowly. The universe was silent, not even the birds announced the dawn as the sun finally rose over the snow. Beyond where Arthur stood, the land was still untouched by man. He stared at its vastness, enthralled by it. The mountains and the valleys were like huge folds before him, great swathes of carelessly thrown white cloth. Beyond it, visible only through a single gap between the peaks, lay the icy sea.
The wind that constantly changed the landscape had swept the snow along, arranged it like dunes on a beach. Where he stood, the bare bones of the land were visible. Did summer ever reach these parts? It was spring now, but there was no sign of it. Was there even fertile darkness infused by the tendrils of hungry roots beneath the ice? He could not imagine it.
Perhaps there was nothing beyond this point, only his own fears of stagnating. The thought of always staying in one place, of ruling his lands like a peasant ruled his little homestead, had always frightened him. He needed to be on the move; to make his kingdom grow. But there were no more worlds to conquer. Like Alexander, Arthur had expanded on the realm his father had left him until there was nothing more for him to make his. Only this, the edge of the known world, was left for him to claim.
Behind him, the snow was already pockmarked by tents and men and horses. Beyond him, it was white, smooth, virginal. And so he left the known world behind and wandered off into the void. His cloak was scarlet. Like a bullfinch on a cold morning, his own vivid colour made him bold.
It had been said that only dragons could live here, but instead Arthur saw a wolf. It stared at him. He realised that it was already aware of him. The wolf was much closer than a wild thing should dare to be, as if it was waiting to be noticed.
Arthur reached for his sword, but even when he unsheathed it, the wolf remained, observing him. It was white, like the snow around them. It was close enough that Arthur could see that its eyes were blue and that it wore a finely wrought silver collar studded with pearls and moonstones around its neck.
It would not budge. Neither did Arthur. They looked at each other. The wolf blinked. Finally, it moved; soft, white paws treading silently over the snow. It stopped, looked back at Arthur. It moved again. Stopped. Moved. Kept at it until Arthur understood. Until he sheathed his sword and followed.
The sun climbed the sky as they walked. It shone fiercely, blindingly. Arthur hid his face in his hood and followed the wolf-spoor in front of him, up into the mountains. He began to wonder whether there was a wolf at all, or whether it was just a mirage, a fantasy made flesh. Another man might have turned, but Arthur did not. He followed the beast until it disappeared into the mountainside.
It took him a few moments to locate the opening, but when he did, he found himself in a cave made entirely of crystal. It was not, of course. It was a cave of ice, of glittering facets of blue and green, as startling as the wings of dragonflies. Arthur stared like a simpleton. He craned his neck to take in the cupola of ice above him, through which the rays of the sun became an iridescent shimmer. It could have been a palace at the bottom of the sea just as easily as a cave in the mountains.
He looked further down and turned around, slowly, stunned at the riches around him. There were pelts on the floor and ivory coffers spilling with silver, gemstones and pearls. He completely forgot the wolf. It was only a sudden light that brought his attention back to it.
The beast lay upon a large bed, covered in furs as white as its own. It was shining. As Arthur stared at it, it writhed, made pitiful sounds. The light became too strong and Arthur covered his eyes with his arm. When he removed it again, there was another white pelt on the bed and a naked boy lying on top of it.
Arthur hurried to the bed.
The boy was pale, with black hair. For a moment his sculpted features were so familiar that Arthur gasped. Pained, he remembered someone with the same colouring, someone with a glimpse of a malevolent, sensual smile. But the boy opened his eyes and they were blue, not the murky, sylvan green of Arthur's memory.
Arthur leaned over him. He watched the boy's scrunched up face until the brow uncreased and the pale features smoothed out again.
"Who are you?" Arthur asked.
"I'm Merlin," the boy replied. "I already know who you are, Arthur Pendragon. You are the king of all of Albion and of the lands across the sea. And now you've come to claim my kingdom and me." He said it without a hint of neither anger nor sorrow.
"Your kingdom?" Arthur said, suddenly barely able to hold back a laugh. Merlin was lying naked on the pile of pelts on the bed. He looked whorish and strange, not regal at all. "What kingdom?"
And me. The words echoed inside Arthur's mind. Yes, Merlin was well worth claiming. Tall and lithe, but with enough lean muscle on his frame to indicate that he was not a child. He might be anywhere between fifteen and nineteen; it was only the unusual whiteness and hairlessness of his skin that made him seem younger. He was wearing nothing but a delicately crafted silver collar set with crystals and two long strands of pearls that hung all the way down to his taut stomach. His cock was soft and both it and his ballsack were quite small and delicate.
"I'm one of the guardians of this land," Merlin replied. His beautiful young face was very serious.
Arthur stopped eyeing Merlin's genitals and studied his face. "So it's your land?"
"Yes," Merlin replied. "It's also the land of the wolves and the white owls and weasels and the reindeer..."
This time, Arthur laughed.
Merlin gave him a look full of pity. "You think you can own the land, don't you? But you can't. The land owns us."
He rolled over, swift as an otter, and showed Arthur his smooth back and the surprisingly ample rounds of his buttocks. At first, Arthur thought it a dismissive gesture, but when Merlin parted his thighs slightly, to offer a glimpse of the cleft of his pert arse, Arthur realised that this was something completely different.
Merlin turned his head, stretched his long neck and gave Arthur a cool glance. "You are my guest," he said, toying with one of his pearl necklaces. His fingers were very long and tipped with the sort of talon-like nails Arthur had ever seen on daring court ladies. "And guests are holy. So I will offer you the best of my hospitality. My bed, my table, and my body are all yours to enjoy."
His lack of passion, or even interest, inflamed Arthur even more than the beautiful body did. Arthur had never taken anyone against their will. His position and looks had always ensured that there were plenty of more than willing partners. Therefore, Merlin's aloofness was something new and exciting. Arthur couldn't wait to make him moan and gasp and beg. He wanted to see Merlin shed his disdain like he had shed his pelt.
Arthur wasted no time. He tore off his cloak and the thick tunics underneath. He undid his belt, kicked off his boots, removed his socks and his layers of trousers. Despite being of ice, the cave was not cold and it was a relief to be naked.
Arthur knelt behind Merlin and dragged his palms over the smooth skin of Merlin's back and flanks. He was finely made. It was too long since Arthur had had a lover; he found that he was greedy for what Merlin had to offer.
"Spread," he said, lightly slapping Merlin's backside, testing his authority.
Merlin rolled his eyes, but did.
"Wider," Arthur said and grabbed Merlin's lean thighs and pushed them further apart, until he could seat himself between them. "That's better." He ran his hands slowly up and down along the length of Merlin's thighs. The skin was as hairless and smooth as that of a courtesan. The contrast to Arthur's own hands was very pleasing.
Merlin exhaled through his nose. Arthur could see the beginnings of a blush stain his pale features.
"Let me have a look at you," Arthur said.
Merlin sighed. He lay down his head to rest his cheek against the pelts and closed his eyes. His eyelashes were long and black, and thick enough to make it look as if he painted them.
Arthur filled his hands with Merlin's arse and dragged his thumbs along the darker skin of the cleft. The dry little pucker, tightening like a small fist as Arthur brushed it, was expected. As he explored the swollen taint, he found something that he had not expected. It was wet, and it parted at the probing touch of his fingers. He backed away with a startled sound, just as Merlin gasped.
Arthur blinked, unsettled. "Arse in the air," he said, instinctively giving orders.
When Merlin was on all fours and the light streaming in through the ice ceiling illuminated his cleft, the delicate little folds of a female sex were clearly visible, on display for Arthur.
"What the..." Arthur managed, staring at the beautiful monstrosity. "What the devil is this?" He was suddenly harder than he could remember being in a long time.
"Are you an idiot, or are you just making a very good impression of one?" Merlin asked, not so obedient now. "What do you think it is?"
"It looks like a cunt."
"It looks like a cunt because it is, stupid."
"But it can't be!"
"But of course it can. You act like you don't have one yourself."
Arthur had been kneeling, but now he fell back on his arse. "I don't," he said.
He was unprepared for Merlin's laughter. He sat, shocked, while Merlin laughed and laughed as if Arthur had said something enormously amusing. Eventually, realising that Arthur wasn't laughing, Merlin rolled over to lie on his back. He wiped the tears from his eyes and watched Arthur intently. He sat up.
"What a silly you are," he said, smiling. His eye teeth were very sharp and long, more like the fangs of a wolf than anything human. "Here, let me have a look at you."
Arthur lay back, docile with sheer surprise. He was the high king and not used to being ordered around. Merlin apparently did not know this, so he simply edged Arthur's legs apart and let his long fingers slide along Arthur's taint. What he found - or what he did not - made him frown in astonishment.
"There's nothing there." He looked desperately uneasy. "I thought you were a man. I was so certain. But you're something else, aren't you? I should have known. Just my luck. You're not a troll, are you?"
"I'm not a troll," Arthur replied, mortified. Trying to regain his dignity, he sat up, closing his legs. "I'm most certainly a man, which is why I don't have a cunt." He paused, tried to make sense out of the things that Merlin had said. "Are there more like you? Are you all like this?"
Merlin tilted his head. It made him look like a curious bird. "Are we all like what?" He shook his head, confused. "We are what we are. How else would we be?"
Arthur thought about how to put it. "Do you all have both this bit," he gestured towards Merlin's cocklet, then further down, "and that?"
Merlin smiled. "No. Some don't have cocks, of course. But we all have cunts. We're men, not wombless monsters." His eyes widened as he realised what he had said. "Not that you are, of course..."
"Don't you have any women?" Arthur asked.
"What's that?"
Arthur was beginning to feel as if he was in a very strange dream. "Like men, but smaller. With tits," here he cupped his hands in front of his chest, to Merlin's great amusement, "and no cocks."
Merlin's face lit up. "Some men are like that," he said. "Sisters."
"But other men are brothers?"
Merlin nodded.
Arthur looked around, trying not to look wary. "Are any of them nearby?"
Merlin tilted his head and smiled a weird smile that made Arthur's heart speed up. "No. Most of the time, we prefer being alone."
"Most of the time," Arthur echoed. "But not now?"
Merlin turned around to lie on his stomach. "No," he said and parted his thighs for Arthur, offering himself in a very pleasing manner. "Not now." His long eyelashes fluttered and he looked at Arthur from under heavy eyelids.
"Good," Arthur said. He grabbed Merlin's thighs and made him get up on all fours, put his arse in the air.
The small oomph knocked out of Merlin as the sudden tilt made him bury his face in the pelts made Arthur's cock harden. He slapped Merlin's bottom, sharply, just to hear it again. It left a red hand print of Merlin's arse cheek, like a mark of ownership. It drove Arthur wild. When he forced his cock inside Merlin's tiny sex, the resistance told him that the boy had been a virgin there, but Arthur was too far gone to stop.
He licked Merlin clean afterwards; licked away his own bitter spend and the iron-tinged traces of Merlin's blood.
"The first time always stings," he told Merlin as he crept up to kiss away the tears and to coax a smile unto lips bitten crimson. "The second time will be better."
And it was. The next time Merlin wept, the tears and cries were of rapture, as Arthur teased climax after climax from his increasingly languid body.
Arthur spent two days with Merlin; two days spent largely in Merlin's bed. They slept when they were tired, ate when they were hungry and satisfied themselves together. Arthur had lost his virginity more than half a life ago and he had had his fair share of partners, both male and female. He had thought that he knew most of what there was to know about carnal pleasures. Merlin showed him that this was not the case.
The boy had no shame, he was wonderfully curious and inventive, and submitted to Arthur in a variety of interesting ways. By the end of their time together, Merlin's sex was red and raw, and its folds were swollen thick. Arthur was forced to use him like boys were meant to be used.
There was no oil, but Arthur was patient when he needed to be. He spread Merlin's pliant body, had him lie on his back, splayed wide. He licked Merlin's cunt as he fingered the already relaxed little pucker of his arse. Arthur's spit and Merlin's juices running down his cleft, overflowing like nectar from a flower, made it easy to make that one finger two.
When Merlin's hole was open and squelching, gaping invitingly, Arthur rubbed his cock along the boy's wet, swollen folds, getting himself wet and slick. And then he could hold back no longer. He turned Merlin over to crouch on all fours and slowly pushed inside. Arthur had a cock worthy of a king - easily as thick as one of Merlin's wrists and a good nine inches long - and it was a tight fit. Merlin didn't protest. He was moaning helplessly, his heart beating so hard Arthur could almost hear it. His pale back was flushed.
Arthur spat at the place where their bodies were joined. The colour of his cock had deepened with the penetration, while Merlin's little pucker was white and stretched taut from the intrusion. Arthur used his thumb to spread the wetness, soothing the quivering strain as he did so.
Arthur fucked Merlin's tempting little arse roughly, clasping slender hips as he took that second virginity with the same ruthlessness that he had taken the first. He was a conqueror, first and foremost; as a king and as a lover.
When he pulled out - having claimed the once so tight channel for his own with a generous dousing of the royal seed - the hole he had vacated was wide open, mimicking the perfectly round O of Merlin's shocked mouth. Arthur admired the sweet vulgarity of Merlin's crudely opened hole, recognising a work well done when he saw it. He stuck his fingers inside and teased out a trail of white, making Merlin whimper. Arthur slicked his fingers with it, then tugged at Merlin's cock until the battered thing spilled a few, tired drops in his fist and Merlin collapsed.
He was still mostly unconscious when Arthur claimed his arse a second time, luxuriating in the feel of a wrecked hole around his cock and a pliant body underneath his own. Merlin felt gorgeous like this, like wearing a pair of worn-in boots or well-loved gloves. No edges that needed to be worn down, just easy comfort. He could almost get used to it, he thought, as he finally pulled out without having come. He was too tired for it.
On the third day, Arthur woke up sore with overmuch bed sports. He felt as if he had spent the last days in a haze of lust and only now woken up. Merlin was still asleep and Arthur knew that he should leave before Merlin came to. Arthur had never liked to say goodbye. Parting was easier when it was done quickly, with a minimum of fuss.
He dressed, then stood by the bed, staring at Merlin's sleeping form. Gods, he was a beauty. His curls were tousled and his cheeks pink with sleep. The lush, decadent mouth was slightly open. Arthur almost lay down at his side again, just to run the tip of his tongue along the little crease on the pouting lower lip.
Arthur sighed. Then, on a whim, he took Merlin's white pelt, easing it away from under Merlin's body. He rolled it into a bundle and took it with him as he left. His own cloak was still thrown over Merlin's sleeping form and Arthur left it there as he stepped out of the crystal cave and into the snowy landscape outside. It was quite warm now, at least in the sun.
He met Leon and a group of his men as he made his way down the valley.
"Arthur," Leon said, shading his eyes with his hand. "We thought we'd lost you!"
More men appeared as Leon embraced Arthur, nearly in tears. Arthur felt a stab of shame at having caused his men to worry like that. He had not spared them a thought whilst in Merlin's bed. Had he been ensorcelled?
"You haven't," Arthur replied, grabbing Leon's shoulders, smiling at him. "I left you behind to explore this land and now I have. There's nothing here for us. There are riches, but the price would be too high. No man can live here."
Leon regained his composure. "Certainly. When you have eaten and rested, we'll begin the journey back to Camelot.
No one asked him about what had happened during his absence and Arthur was grateful for it. He ate, washed, then lay down on his camp bed. He was asleep when he was roused by the sound of angry voices outside his tent. He sat up just as Merlin burst in, followed by Leon and Gwaine.
"I'm sorry," Leon said. "He insisted."
Merlin was clad in Arthur's cloak. As Arthur stared at him, he noticed Merlin's pale feet, and as Merlin shifted, a glimpse of a hairless shin. Merlin was completely naked underneath.
"Cold does not affect me," Merlin said with a shrug, when he noticed Arthur staring. "Not like it does you."
"What are you doing here, Merlin?"
"You took my pelt," Merlin replied. "Without it, I can't shift. You have to return it to me."
Forgetting the others in the room, Arthur stared intently at Merlin. "And what if I don't?"
"Then I'll have to come with you. I will be bound to you until you return it to me."
"He brought you gifts," Gwaine said, as if he needed to plead the case of this, to him, unknown boy. "Priceless gifts. You don't need one pelt when you can have all of that."
Only now did Arthur see the sledge that Merlin must have trailed behind him. It was laden with the riches that Arthur had seen in Merlin's cave: pelts, walrus ivory, silver, gemstones, pearls, red and grey amber.
"Then our expedition will not have been fruitless," Arthur announced. "I claim these lands for Camelot, and these riches, like Merlin here, will be brought back with us. Now leave us."
The men did not seem convinced, but they did what Arthur told them to do.
When they were alone again, Arthur laughed uneasily. "Really, Merlin. Following me, dressed in nothing but my cloak. Whatever will my men think?"
"That you have claimed me, probably," Merlin said and unfastened his cloak, letting it pool blood red around his white feet. On his unnaturally pale, smooth skin, the purple bruises left by Arthur's greedy hands and mouth bloomed like irises. "Which you have. Which you will again."
He closed the distance between them and wrapped his arms around Arthur, brought their mouths together. He bit Arthur's lower lip, drew blood with those fearsome teeth of his. It drove Arthur wild. He grabbed Merlin's arse and Merlin understood. His long legs were soon wrapped around Arthur's waist.
Arthur carried him to the bed. He took Merlin again, not even bothering to finger Merlin's little sex before he split it with his cock. Still just as warm, and plush, and wet as the last time, entering it was like coming home. Arthur laughed with joy as he spent himself inside it, egged on by Merlin's desperate noises and the pain as Merlin's long nails dug into his buttocks.
Afterwards, Arthur cupped Merlin's chin in his hand. They were both hot and sweaty and Arthur had had to light the lamp next to the bed.
"You're coming with me," he said. "You're mine now."
"You can't own someone," Merlin replied, but Arthur pretended not to hear him.
Dressed, Merlin was even more uncanny than when he was naked. He worried the horses and not a single one of them would accept him on their back. In the end, he had to walk at Arthur's side. Arthur did not mind. They rode slowly and every now and then Arthur would reach out to finger the collar around Merlin's neck. At times, Arthur would hold one of the strands of pearls, wind it round his gloved hand as if it had been a leash. Merlin's pelt was rolled up and tied to Arthur's saddle. Merlin would not be able to snatch it, even if he wanted to.
The journey back to Camelot felt much shorter than the journey north had been. The days were cold, but the nights were warm. The northern lights danced over them; green ribbons lacing the night as Merlin took all that Arthur had to give him. Arthur fell asleep with his cock still softening in the exquisite clasp of Merlin's little cunt.
Winter turned to spring as the army moved southwards. Barren, frozen rivers became wild and turbid with meltwater. In the sky above them, they could see the straggling lines of birds returning from the south. Arthur's heart sang with joy. He felt ten years younger, revitalised by his infatuation.
When they reached the city of Camelot, the tender haze of green leaves was turning into proper foliage. He was proud to be able to show Merlin his kingdom at its most beautiful. Camelot was his own land, the only one that was his by birthright; unconquered. He wanted Merlin to love it like he did, but instead, Merlin fell ill. Arthur installed him in the royal bed and slept on a pallet next to him. He worried that Merlin would die. Strange beasts brought from faraway lands often did.
He had Gaius, the royal physician, tend to him. One day, after Gaius had examined Merlin, he asked to have a word with Arthur. They stepped into the antechamber.
"The boy's pregnant, Sire."
Arthur stared at him, wondering if the old man had finally gone mad. "How can he be?"
The grooves on Gaius' leathery forehead deepened. "Surely you don't need me to tell you how children are conceived, Sire."
Arthur shook his head. "Gaius, you know as well as I do that I can't sire children. Never once has a woman I've lain with come away from our encounter with her womb quickened. And Guinevere... Well."
They had tried. The gods knew that they had tried. Every day, without exception: morning, noon and night; a schedule as rigid and demanding as his training schedule. She had followed him patiently wherever he went, as if she had been a camp follower and not a queen.
She had gone with him everywhere to make herself available to him, so that he could do his duty to his kingdom, and she had never once complained. He could still see her, in his mind's eye. Her lovely, curvy body spread out on his bed, with a pillow under her hips to make sure that his seed stayed inside her. Her beautiful freckled face, smiling bravely at him.
And he had failed her. Oh, how he had failed.
If he had been man enough to plant a seed in Guinevere's willing womb - giving her and the kingdom the child he owed them - she would never have cuckolded and left him. He would still have had a queen, and he would still have had the best of his knights.
From what Arthur had heard, she had borne Lancelot five children by now, all of them healthy and strong.
"He tells me that it must be yours."
Bewildered, Arthur said, "Let me talk to him in private."
Gaius left for his workshop and Arthur stepped into the bedroom. Merlin looked very small in the big bed. He wore a nightshirt that was laced all the way up to his long neck. His face was almost as pale as the linen. Arthur was unprepared for the surge of emotion he felt at the sight of him.
He sat down at Merlin's side. "Will you marry me?"
It was not what he had meant to say, but now that he had said it, he did not regret it. Merlin was fertile and he had brought a dowry. He was as good a spouse as any woman.
Arthur had never thought to marry again. He had not wanted to be fooled again. In fact, he had spent the years after Guinevere left him indiscriminately bedding everything and anything that would have him. He had only come to his senses when Gaius had intervened, telling him that he would die of the pox, rather than on the battlefield, if he didn't stop.
He had never thought to marry again, but this was different. Merlin was carrying his child. His body had been receptive to Arthur's seed, unlike any of Arthur's previous partners. Surely that must mean something?
Merlin looked at Arthur. "What do you mean?"
Arthur had no idea how things worked among Merlin's people. It was not something they had talked about. They had never talked much about anything.
"A permanent union," Arthur explained. He took Merlin's hand. "You'll be my royal consort."
Merlin nodded thoughtfully. "You want us to be one?"
"I want you to be mine."
"You can't own someone," Merlin explained, like he had before. And just as before, Arthur ignored him.
They married before the month was over. Arthur invited all the nobles and the minor kings for three days of feasting. He entertained his guests with banquets, jousting, music and dancing, but Merlin was the real attraction.
Arthur had the royal tailors dress him in beautiful clothes: robes that held the promise of nothing underneath; tight hose and elegantly cut doublets to show his ripening figure; beautiful transparent tunics that left very little to the imagination. Proud as a peacock, Arthur flaunted his treasure, well aware of the lustful gazes that Merlin drew from both men and women.
Merlin bore it all with stoicism.
The early stages of his pregnancy had him tired and worn, and after the festivities were over, he slept for nearly two days. For a while, Merlin couldn't stand Arthur in bed and banished from his own chambers. It was as if the very scent of Arthur made him sick. Then, some time later, nearing midsummer, he suddenly craved Arthur again, just as he craved a lot of other things. Arthur tried to be gentle with him, not wanting to endanger Merlin's health, or that of the child. But Merlin wouldn't have any of it.
"I no longer carry your marks," he said one night, stretching out on the bed to show his creamy, unmarred skin. There was not a single bruise on him, not a love bite; nothing. "How will others know that I'm your mate when you're ashamed to show it?"
Arthur sat up, knelt at Merlin's side.
"And you don't carry my marks, either," Merlin continued.
It was true. Merlin would always egg Arthur on, marking him with his teeth and claws. But now even the marks on Arthur's back were healed and the ones on Arthur's chest were just silvery scars.
The tears in Merlin's eyes shamed Arthur.
"You are still mine," Arthur said. "Always. I claimed you, remember?" He pointed at Merlin's pelt, decorating his throne-like chair. "I brought you back from the wilderness."
Merlin swallowed. The words had a curious effect on him. His eyes grew unfocused and his cock rose. He looked feverish. "Tell me more," he said.
Arthur leaned over him, placing his hand at Merlin's throat. He didn't press, just held his hand there, clasping the long, thin neck over the silver collar. Merlin tipped his head back, smiling. He licked his lips.
"And then I married you, in front of all of Camelot," Arthur continued. Merlin was practically purring underneath him, pressing his throat into Arthur's hand.
Arthur seated himself closer, kneeling by Merlin's belly. Keeping one hand at Merlin's throat, he let his other hand travel over Merlin's body: the collarbones, the budding breasts, the taut bump, the stiff cocklet. Merlin drew his legs up, parting them for Arthur.
"And now you carry my child," Arthur said. "How can anyone doubt that you're mine when you're so obviously pregnant by me?"
He reached between Merlin's thighs, fondled the little ballsack, then further down, finding Merlin's sopping little cleft. The lips were engorged, thick and swollen and slippery under Arthur's fingers.
Merlin let out a desperate sound. Arthur slipped his fingers along the slick folds, toyed with the little bud at the apex, then stuck his fingers inside. He fucked Merlin like that, until Merlin's body was taut as a bowstring and he was begging to be allowed to come.
That was when Arthur turned him over to lie on his side, positioned himself behind him and put his cock where it needed to go. Merlin screamed as he was taken. He sobbed and begged until he was hoarse. Arthur bit his shoulder as he fucked him, made sure to leave marks. And Merlin reached behind himself to drag his nails along Arthur's thigh.
When Arthur finally spent himself, once Merlin had reached his second climax, they were both worn out.
Later that night, when they had washed and eaten a little, Merlin was keen again. Arthur found that he was not. He wasn't old, but he certainly wasn't eighteen anymore.
"Then why don't I put my cock in you?" Merlin asked innocently, his long fingers toying with the fine down on the nape of Arthur's neck.
Arthur scowled and didn't reply. He had never been taken. The idea had never even crossed his mind.
"Are you afraid?" Merlin asked. This time, Arthur laughed. There was a smidgen of fear somewhere, but he pretended there wasn't.
"Where do you want to put it?" he asked, curious and perhaps a bit aroused. He realised that the idea of Merlin's little cock in his mouth was not an unwelcome one. He had licked Merlin's cunt, after all. How much stranger could it be to suck him?
Merlin looked at him, smiling. He looked pleased, cat-like. "In your mouth," he said, licking his lips, showing his fangs. "In your cunt."
"I don't have a cunt," Arthur replied, shocked, making Merlin's smile even wider.
He learned that he was wrong.
When he was crouching on his bed, arse up, with Merlin licking, and petting, and sucking, and coaxing, and pushing Arthur's own fingers inside, showing him how to open himself up. When he was nearly weeping into his pillow, biting into it. When he begged Merlin please.
That was when Merlin said, "But you do have a cunt, my lord. It was here all along. You should see it, it's so pretty. Wet and pink and open. Such a lovely little gash."
He made Arthur push three fingers inside himself, because two weren't enough, because Arthur was so open. He licked around them, made Arthur even wetter. And then he took them out and pushed his own cock inside Arthur's willing body. His cock was so small, so perfect. He fucked Arthur so very, very gently, his bump almost in the way, but not really.
Arthur spent himself on the sheets and felt as if he had been turned inside out. He had never let someone so close; had never let anyone do such a thing to him. He had never trusted someone like that and not have his trust be abused. He lay awake that night, still wet with Merlin's seed. He watched Merlin's sleeping face and tried to understand.
The summer had been cool so far, but then there was a heatwave and Merlin wilted. He grew tired and listless and refused to dress. After a week he was in such a bad state that he could not make it out of bed. He developed a fever and Gaius had him moved to a room in the cellars, where it was cool.
"For his sake and the child's, you should have him moved," Gaius said.
Merlin was asleep, sprawled out like a starfish on the bed. His mouth was open and there was red on his high cheekbones, as if he had painted himself.
"The hunting lodge in the White Mountains," Arthur replied. It was the only alternative that was not too far away. "I could come and stay with him." He was sitting on the bedside, holding Merlin's hand.
Gaius raised an eyebrow.
"Not all of the time, of course," Arthur said with a sigh, unable to tear his gaze from Merlin.
During summer, he usually toured various of his castles. It was years since he had spent so much time in Camelot. With Merlin installed in the hunting lodge and feeling better, Arthur would be able to devote his energy to ruling his lands again.
But Merlin refused to be moved.
"Don't send me away," he begged. "I think I'll die if I'm forced to be apart from you when I'm carrying your child," he said, so seriously that Arthur could not refuse his request. Instead, he simply prayed for colder weather and had Merlin's cellar room made as comfortable as possible.
He ruled his kingdom during the days, when Merlin slept, and during the night, he took Merlin outside to make wild love in the woods. When they were done, Arthur often had to carry a tired, happy, satisfied Merlin back to the castle. During these weeks, Arthur's back and buttocks were permanently marked from Merlin's claws, making him look as if he had been lashed.
Merlin grew livelier when the weather grew cool, in autumn. When winter came, and his bump grew into something enormous, he flourished. His appetite for all things magnified. He ate like a greedy pig, delighting Arthur with his hunger. And he was randier than a kennel full of bitches in heat. Arthur grew tired and worn, although he didn't like to admit it. When he could no longer get it up, Merlin would sometimes take him and Arthur found that he liked it. Other times, Arthur would service Merlin with his fingers and his mouth.
Merlin gave birth late in winter. Gaius brought Arthur the child as Arthur sat on his throne, in front of his council.
"Her name is Aithusa," Gaius said. "I'm sorry, Sire. Merlin was quite insistent."
Merlin didn't know that it was the king who named his children; that it was the king who decided whether the child was to be put out or raised. But Arthur did not protest. He looked at the tiny thing in Gaius' arms and she looked at him, or at least he thought she did.
He smiled. The name suited the girl and he let Gaius put her in his arms. He walked over to the round table and placed his daughter there. Gaius carefully unwrapped her.
Arthur was shocked at the bandage over the navel, until he remembered the umbilical cord he had seen when attending the births of horses. Apart from that, everything about the child seemed normal. Tiny hands and tiny feet, the normal number of fingers and toes. She was very clearly a girl. There were no signs of a second sex, for which Arthur was very grateful.
Once all the councillors had inspected her, Arthur had Gaius wrap her again. When Gaius handed her back, Arthur lifted her, holding her high above his head. She did not scream, did not seem the least intimidated. Arthur's heart swelled in his chest, deeply impressed by his daughter's innate bravery.
"This is Aithusa Pendragon," he told his men. "When I am dead, she will be your queen."
It was unheard of to pronounce a girl the heir to the throne and his words were followed by shocked gasps, but Arthur did not hear them. Anything that was not his marvellous baby seemed to have become unimportant.
He carried her back to Merlin himself, eager to see him again. He had not been allowed in the birthing chamber. This was the first time that Arthur saw Merlin in nearly two days.
Merlin seemed tired. His face was puffy and his recently washed and still damp hair was tousled.
"There you are!" he exclaimed.
He took Aithusa from Arthur's arms and unlaced the front of his nightshirt. As Arthur stared incredulously, Aithusa latched to one of Merlin's breasts and began nursing.
"We'll arrange for a nurse later," Arthur said, embarrassed.
Merlin, who had been smiling at his daughter, looked up. "A nurse?"
"A wet nurse, for Aithusa."
Merlin's confused expression became a frown. "I will not give my child to someone else," he very nearly growled. His face was flushed and Arthur could see his sharp teeth. "My body is making milk for her, why would it do that if she isn't meant to feed from me?"
Aithusa let go of the nipple and wailed. "You've upset her," Arthur complained.
"You've upset her," Merlin muttered as he shushed the baby and tried to stuff his nipple back into her mouth. "I won't give her up. It's out of the question. She's my daughter! She needs to be with her parents, not with a stranger."
And Arthur, who had never even lain at his mother's breast, relented. His own mother had died on him. Aithusa still had both of her parents. It seemed churlish to deny her what he himself had been denied.
"Whatever you say," he said and leaned forward to press a conciliatory kiss to Merlin's cheek.
Over the next few months, Merlin began to recuperate from the birth. When they coupled again, Arthur noticed that Merlin's body had changed. The changes thrilled him. The stretch marks and the still sagging belly were marks of ownership, just as the bruises and the imprints of his teeth, only more permanent. Merlin was like this because Arthur had made him carry their child. The thought made Arthur rock hard.
"This means you're mine," he whispered, sliding his hands greedily along the surplus skin on Merlin's stomach, all the way up to his sweetly leaking breasts. "Just mine and no one else's."
The words made Merlin sob, made him push back against Arthur's cock, needing to have more of it.
Merlin was not as tight as before, but tight enough that Arthur marvelled at how such a tiny orifice had been able to bring forth a baby, tight enough to give Arthur just as much pleasure as it always had. When Merlin finally clenched around him, as Arthur reached around to stroke Merlin's cock, it was certainly tight enough to bring Arthur a quick, shuddering climax.
Fatherhood suited Arthur and despite the often sleepless nights, he was happy. He couldn't wait for Merlin to get pregnant again, eager for the big family that he had always wanted and which he had once believed he would never have.
But as spring progressed, it was evident that Merlin was unwell. He grew short-tempered and very tired. His skin grew dull and his hair began to fall off. It had always been thick and dark, but now Arthur could see Merlin's scalp in places.
One evening, Arthur returned to his chamber to find Merlin naked on the bed, wearing nothing more than his collar and the pearl necklaces that Arthur had not seen him wear in ages. In front of him, was Aithusa. She was as naked as Merlin was, still drying after her evening bath, on top of Merlin's pelt.
"What are you doing?" Arthur asked.
He had never seen Merlin handle the pelt, even though it was not locked up. Arthur had started to believe that perhaps we was unable to.
"I want you to return my pelt to me," Merlin replied.
Arthur undid his cloak and hung it over a chair. He joined Merlin by the bed. Merlin's belly showed delightful rolls of flesh when he sat like this and Arthur wanted to pinch them. He did not.
"Why?" he asked.
"Because I can't shift if you don't let me. You've claimed my pelt, and I can't use it without your permission." He looked at Arthur. There was sadness in his eyes.
Arthur's heart began to beat faster. "Why do you want to shift?"
Merlin took a deep breath. "Because I want to go home."
"You want to leave me?" Arthur asked. "And you're taking my daughter?" He reached for her, but Merlin snapped her up before he could take her.
There were tears in Merlin's eyes. He held Aithusa tight, making her whimper. "It's not like that. You know I'll be back. Once summer is over I'll be back with you again."
"But how do I know you'll return? How do I know you're not leaving me?" Arthur didn't dare raise his voice, knowing it would frighten Aithusa.
The memories of Guinevere's face as he banished her and Lancelot from Camelot came rushing back to him. He should have known that he was not good enough - not man enough - to keep a spouse. He had thought that the fact that he had been able to give Merlin a child would have been enough, but apparently it wasn't.
"You'll just have to trust me," Merlin said, his eyes overflowing. "If you love someone, you trust them."
"But why do you want to go?" Arthur asked again and he could not hide the desperate note in his voice. He felt as if his world was falling apart around him.
"I can't stand another summer," Merlin confessed. "And Aithusa... Aithusa must learn what it is to be a part of my people. But we'll be back," he said. There was a pleading tone to his voice. "Arthur, you know I can't live without you, but I can't live without the other part of me, either. Please, let us go."
Arthur swallowed. "Absolutely not," he said. "What would people think? They would laugh at me! A man who can't even keep his own spouse under control is not one that others will trust as their king."
"But–" Merlin began, but Arthur silenced him with a gesture of his hand.
"No, Merlin. You will obey me."
Merlin's eyes widened in confusion and anger. "Arthur–"
Arthur folded his arms over his chest. "You are mine and so is Aithusa. I am the king and I am your lord. You will do as I tell you."
Merlin's mouth opened, then he closed it again. "You wombless beast," he said, at last. He didn't sound angry, didn't bare his teeth. He sounded terribly sad. As if Arthur had been the one to let him down. And that was much, much worse.
"I'll sleep in the antechamber," Arthur said, struggling to keep his voice from breaking. Struggling to keep himself from breaking.
"You do that," Merlin replied, his voice trembling. "Tonight and every other night." He buried his face against Aithusa's little head and rocked her, gently.
Arthur had thought that their estrangement would be over in the morning, but he was wrong. Merlin refused to talk to him. Days passed and Merlin still treated Arthur as if he was invisible.
At first, Arthur worried about what other people would think. Courtiers loved gossiping about what went on in people's bedchambers, particularly the king's. What would they say now, when Merlin wouldn't look at Arthur? When he would only communicate with him by sending messages through other people, even if Arthur was in the same room?
When nearly a fortnight had gone by in the same fashion, Arthur was no longer worried about his reputation. It was as if the pain to his pride lay on the surface, hiding something deeper. That deeper pain, Arthur realised, was the pain that kept him from letting Merlin go.
He knew then that he needed to talk to Merlin. Really talk.
That night, when he left the council chambers to go to bed, he did not walk straight past the bed in which Merlin was lying with Aithusa. Instead, he seated himself on the bedside and watched Merlin nurse Aithusa. He remained there as Merlin went about his business; changing Aithusa's nappies, putting her to sleep in her own little cot.
When he was done, and Arthur was still sitting there, he said, "What do you want, Arthur?"
"I want to talk," Arthur said. "I've behaved very badly, and I want to apologise for it. And I want to explain."
Merlin fluffed up the pillows and settled against the headboard. He was wearing loose linen trousers, and the bodice that kept his tits from moving around too much, or leaking. He was so pretty he made Arthur smile.
"What is there to explain?" Merlin asked. There was something hard in his voice, something that had not been there before.
"I am afraid," Arthur said and to say it, to admit it, was more frightening than almost anything he had ever done.
Merlin's eyebrows rose. "You're afraid?"
"I can go into battle," Arthur said, "And ride in tourneys and hunt dangerous beasts. I can overcome those fears, because that's what warriors do. I'm not afraid of dying, or of bodily pain."
Merlin was watching him intently. When Arthur moved a little closer, he didn't move away. "So what are you afraid of?" he asked.
Arthur sighed. He felt exposed, pathetic. He felt naked in a way he had never felt when undressed. He didn't quite know what to say.
Merlin waited. Even though he had to be impatient, he didn't speak. Only when the silence had stretched out for far too long, did he take Arthur's hand.
"You can tell me," he said and at last his voice was kind, without the harshness of before.
"I'm afraid you'll laugh at me," Arthur admitted. He managed a smile.
Merlin smiled back. "Never," he said.
"I'm afraid of being alone," Arthur confessed. "And I'm even more afraid of people leaving me. Of being abandoned."
Merlin blinked. "Why would I–"
"I wasn't finished," Arthur said. And then he told Merlin. He told him everything. He told him about his sister and about his wife. He told him about the mother he had never met. The words flowed from his lips and Merlin didn't interrupt, but simply listened.
When Arthur finally fell quiet, his throat parched, Merlin gave him some water.
And then he said, "I'm so sorry, Arthur. I'm so sorry they hurt you." He moved in close and hugged Arthur and Arthur let himself be held, breathing in the sweet scent of Merlin's body as Merlin pressed kisses to his hair. "But I'm not them," he added, gently rocking Arthur. "Please don't punish me, and don't punish Aithusa, for what others have done. I love you. The only thing that will take me from you is death."
"Don't say that," Arthur replied and his voice was feeble, broken. "Just... Just don't leave me. Please."
"I won't," Merlin promised. "Oh, Arthur, I won't."
Arthur didn't quite know how it happened, but somehow their words became kisses and soon they were tearing at each other's clothes, struggling on the bed.
"Not here," Merlin gasped, when Arthur finally let go of his mouth. When he was naked and Arthur was down to just his shirt, tented at the front. "I need you to be rough with me, but Aithusa–"
Arthur nodded urgently. He silenced Merlin with a kiss, then swept him up in his arms. He was still light in Arthur's arms, easy to carry. Arthur took him to the antechamber and put him on the bed. He lit the candles, then went to close the door. Aithusa would make herself heard through the door if she needed them, but they would not disturb her, as long as they were not too loud.
"Take me," Merlin begged when Arthur returned to to him. He was kneeling, with his legs splayed wide and his hands on the bed between them, pushing his swollen, leaking tits together. He was delectable. "Be rough with me," he said and licked his lips, showing the sharp, white teeth that Arthur loved.
Arthur did not wait for him to say more. He pushed Merlin onto his back and clasped at his throat, just above the collar.
"Guide me inside," he said, daring to press a little, feeling Merlin's pulse hammer against his fingers.
Merlin grabbed his cock for him, rubbed it along his sopping cleft, then using his deft fingers to coat Arthur's cock completely. Merlin smiled at him, then bit his lower lip as he lifted his hips and put Arthur's cock against his puckered rear hole. Arthur's eyes widened. He had not expected this gift.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
Merlin nodded.
Arthur entered him slowly but relentlessly. He stretched Merlin on his cock, spearing him open, impaling him. Once he had bottomed out, they were both covered in sweat.
"I'm going to fuck you hard," Arthur told Merlin. He was looming over him, still with a hand on Merlin's throat, owning him completely. And Merlin loved it. "I'm going to fuck you so hard I'll make you cry," Arthur promised, feeling drunk on the power that Merlin was giving him. "You won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow."
He could no longer stay still. He started pulling out, relishing the way in which Merlin's hugely stretched hole clung to him, as if it wanted to suck him back. And then he pushed in again, thrusting hard, making moans of pain and pleasure spill from Merlin's lips, just as Merlin's milk spilled from his tits.
He grabbed Merlin's throat with both hands and started fucking in earnest: rough and hard, just the way they both needed. Merlin grasped at his hands, clawed at Arthur's wrists, drawing blood.
He licked it away, later, when they had both come and Arthur lay spent at his side, nearly senseless from his climax. The second time, Merlin marked Arthur's back, clawing at him, bringing tears to Arthur's eyes as he pulled out of Merlin's rear hole to come all over Merlin's little cock, dripping down into the folds of his woman parts.
Merlin licked the wounds on Arthur's back, too. He did it when Arthur was crouching before him, eagerly taking Merlin's little cock: first up his arse, then in his mouth to lick it clean.
Arthur woke up alone, with his body aching from the night's activities. He sat up, panicking until he heard Merlin's voice from the other room, cooing at Aithusa. Arthur rose from the bed. He found his clothes and dressed. He winced as the fabric of his shirt touched his back.
"Do you still want to go?" he asked as he joined Merlin, sitting down at his side on the bed.
Merlin looked up from Aithusa, who was suckling at one of his breasts. "Only if you let me," he said. "I don't want to hurt you." He paused and smiled. "Well, not like that, anyway."
"I want you to," Arthur said. "I was an idiot trying to keep you from going." He only realised that he was weeping when Merlin reached for him and ran a finger along the wet track on Arthur's cheek.
"I promise you that I will come back," Merlin said. "That we will both come back. We are yours and you're ours. We belong together."
Two days later, Arthur took his little family for an outing in the forest. When they were deep in the woods, Merlin took his pelt from Arthur's hands and placed it on the ground. He kissed Arthur a last time, then undressed himself and Aithusa. Holding her tight, he lay down on the pelt.
There was a bright light and in the next moment, there was no man and no baby. Just a white wolf with a silver collar. It licked Arthur's hand, then ran.
Arthur returned alone.
And he waited.
All spring and all summer, he waited.
The first day of autumn came. It grew cold. Arthur saw lines of birds flying southwards. One morning, there was frost on the grass. That evening, Merlin was waiting for him in his chambers when Arthur returned from his council meeting.
He sat in bed, swept in a blanket, reading a book. Aithusa slept next to him, on Merlin's pelt. Arthur kissed her first, kneeling by the bed to press his lips to her soft, round little cheek. She sighed in her sleep, but did not wake.
She still smelled sweet and musky, like the milk of Merlin's breasts. But she had grown. Of course she had. Children did. His chest ached when he thought of all the days of her life that he had missed. What had she learned while they had been apart? Did she remember him at all?
He forced down the dark thoughts and kissed his daughter's father. He tossed Merlin's book to a side and kissed his mouth, then his forehead. The tussle caused the blanket around Merlin's shoulders to slip down. When Merlin leaned away, Arthur saw something that delighted him.
"I'm expecting again," Merlin whispered and folded his hands over his gravid belly. His words fell a little too gently from his lips, as if he wasn't sure of what Arthur would think.
Arthur traced the dome of Merlin's bump. It was quite big; it must have happened on their last night together. He bowed down to kiss it. Another child. A sister for Aithusa. He wondered if she would be jealous. He was overwhelmed by his feelings, by all the words bubbling up in his mind, like a spring.
"You came back," he said.
"Did you ever doubt it?" Merlin asked.
"No," Arthur replied, knowing, at last, that it was true. "In my heart of hearts, I never did."
And Merlin placed a tender hand to the lowest point of Arthur's belly, warming it even through the layers of his clothes. "You knew it here," he said and tears rose in his eyes, "you knew it in your womb. I knew you had one, the first time I saw you, and I was right."
Arthur carefully took his daughter in his arms and placed her in her cot. He was afraid she might fall out of bed if they simply left her where she was.
And then he took Merlin and carried him to the rug in front of the fireplace. There would be time for marking each other, for the sort of lovemaking that they both enjoyed, later. That night, they simply lay naked together and talked and kissed and touched, until the first light of dawn, when Aithusa woke up and demanded their attention.
*