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Arthur had known this day would come eventually, though he’d always secretly hoped against it.
It was his duty as crown prince to secure peace through whatever means necessary. Still, when his father had announced the marriage pact with the druids, Arthur had felt the ground drop out from beneath him.
Marriage was one thing. It wasn’t too difficult to imagine the rest of his life with a regal but distant princess on his arm. But a druid? The same people that Uther had spent years condemning and hunting? That was an entirely different matter. They were a strange people, foreign in speech and behavior.
But both their peoples had worn thin. A truce had to be reached, and Arthur was the chosen seal.
The wedding itself had been brief, but unfamiliar. The druids had insisted on their strange rituals. Arthur’s skin still stunk with the smoke of burned herbs, and his wrists bore the reddened impressions of the ribbon that had been tied there by a druid elder. He’d held hands with his cloaked husband, bound together as the druids chanted their way through an almost songlike ritual. The whole thing had been unsettling.
Not to mention, he still hadn’t even seen his husband. Not really.
Sure, the man had stood beside him, but he’d been cloaked the whole time and never once lowered his hood. Not even when the vows were spoken. Arthur had tried not to think of what lay beneath the cloth, but his imagination betrayed him.
Perhaps his new husband would be a stooped old man with greasy hair and sagging skin.
Maybe he was like the druid leader, Iseldir, with sharp eyes and a stern face.
The druids had called his husband ‘Emrys’, and if they were to be believed, the man was incredibly magically powerful. Surely he would at least be middle-aged then. He probably had glowing eyes and pulsating runes carved into his skin.
He had no idea what to expect, but he dreaded it all nonetheless.
When the ceremony ended, he’d escaped as soon as politeness allowed. He needed air. He needed time. He needed— something.
He retreated to the chilled air of the turrets, sitting on the rough stone parapet and watching as the light drained from the horizon. The wind tugged at his cloak, cold enough to sting, but he welcomed the sharpness.
Of course, Morgana was the one to find him, slippers tapping quietly on stone as she climbed the last of the steps.
She came to stand slightly behind him, shoulder to shoulder, and watched the sky with him for a while.
Finally, though, she tired of the stewing and broke the silence, “You know,” her voice was infuriatingly amused, “most grooms spend their wedding nights in their chambers. With their spouse.”
Arthur scowled, but didn’t look back at her. He felt incapable of summoning his usual bite. “I know. I'll be there. I just… I needed space.”
“Space?” He could hear the smirk on Morgan's lips, “whatever from? Your husband? But you’ve hardly even met yet. I'm quite certain you haven’t even seen his face.”
Arthur grimaced. Yes, that was exactly the problem, though he wasn’t about to hand her the satisfaction of saying it aloud.
But of course, it was Morgana. She probably already knew exactly what was going through Arthur’s mind. She was creepy like that.
She moved to stand directly behind Arthur, bending down to lean her elbows on his shoulder and drop her chin onto the top of his head.
“You know, you might not be so upset once you actually see him. In fact, I’m quite sure you’ll find him perfect.”
Arthur frowned. “What does that mean?”
Morgana shifted her arms so she was hugging him, though it more resembled a chokehold than an embrace. “You’ll find out soon enough.” Her words took on a songlike lilt, and then she squeezed him slightly before letting go and stepping back. “He’s waiting for you in your chambers. Don’t make him wait too long, dear brother.” And then she was leaving, quietly slipping down the tower stairs.
Arthur stayed on the turret long after her footsteps faded, dread and curiosity coiling into a sickening ball in his chest. Finally, the evening faded into true night, stars scattered their light above him, and he could hide no longer.
Every step towards his chamber felt as though it grew heavier. He knew what was expected of him next, and he dreaded it. He was no virgin. Not by any means. But before, he had always chosen his partner. Had always been in control.
The sight of his chamber doors had a rock dropping in his belly. Still, though, he must push on. He nodded to the guards outside his door, jerking his head in dismissal. His hand tightened on the latch. He pushed it open.
The fire in his hearth had burned low, shadows dancing across the edges of the room. Arthur stripped out of his ceremonial wear, dropping it carelessly on the table, his back kept stubbornly turned to the bed where he could sense a figure waiting. He unbuckled his belt, fingers moving slowly, as though stalling could change what waited for him.
At last, with nothing left to occupy himself with, he forced himself to turn and meet his fate.
He froze.
His first thought was full of sheer relief. Thank God he isn’t old
His second was shocked. He’s… beautiful.
The man was kneeling on the bed, pale skin almost glowing in the low firelight. His hair curled in soft tufts, falling around endearingly large ears. Gold and blue swirl in his irises, bright and strange but somehow all the more breathtaking for it. Painted markings traced lines over his chest and arms, the same kind of symbols Arthur had always found harsh on druids — but here, on this man, they somehow looked elegant and artful.
And he was completely naked.
Arthur’s mouth went dry.
The man shifted uncomfortably at his staring, as though only then realizing his state of undress. His hands twitched to cover himself, his shoulders curling inwards in self-consciousness.
Arthur found his shoulders drooping in relief, a grin rising to his lips in response to the alleviation of some of his worst fears. At least he could find his husband physically attractive, even if their personalities clashed. Though he was beginning to suspect their match had been well made.
He stepped closer, intentionally pitching his voice lower than usual. “Hello, Emrys. It’s good to finally see you.” Then, for some reason, he couldn’t resist teasing the man a little, pointedly flicking his eyes down to the man’s barely covered groin, “This is an interesting first impression to choose.”
He watched in fascination as color bloomed across the man’s pale skin, red staining across his cheeks and ears. Arthur had the sudden, unbidden urge to trace it with his tongue.
“Ah— I apologize,” Emrys ducked his head and kneeled down lower as if he could recover some of his modesty, “I am…unfamiliar with your people's customs. I thought— Your men led me here and you didn’t come—” He cut himself off, sucking in a breath, “I apologize, I meant no offense.”
Arthur crept over to his bed, coming to stand in front of his husband. “No apology necessary. You have done nothing wrong. I, on the other hand, have. It was cruel of me to keep you waiting. That was my mistake.” He paused for just a moment and gestured at his husband's naked form and the bed he rested on, “Customs aside, I take it you understand what is expected of me? Of us?”
Emrys flushed impossibly deeper, shifting uncomfortably, and nodded.
“Good.” Arthur rose and finally lifted himself onto his bed, knee walking until he was just in front of his husband. He kept his eyes trained on the man’s face, cataloging the nervous flick of a tongue across pale pink lips. “May I kiss you, then?”
Emrys’ pupils blew wide, and Arthur watched his adams apple bob up and down. Still, the man nodded.
Arthur closed the last of the distance, cupped the back of his neck, and kissed him.
Emrys jolted under the contact, lips pressed stiffly shut. Arthur teased at the seam, licking gently, urging him to open. Only, he didn’t seem to understand, eyes screwed tightly shut and breaths puffing shallowly from his nose.
Arthur pulled back to kiss at the corners of his mouth, trying to coax the man into relaxing. He waited until Emrys’ eyes peeled open, blue-gold wide and a little startled.
“Emrys, have you never done this before?” Arthur murmured softly into his jaw. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer. This was not how an experienced person reacted to being kissed. And if he’d never even kissed someone, what were the chances his husband had ever had sex?
Low, Arthur guessed.
He was right.
Emrys’ throat bobbed again, and he jerked his head in the negative. “N—No. I’ve never— Sorry, I don’t know— and my name isn’t— it isn’t Emrys.” That had Arthur’s eyebrows pinching. He pulled back so he could see (not) Emrys’ face.
“No?” Arthur was careful to keep his tone away from accusative. He trusted his knights couldn’t possibly have lost the man he’d done his vows without informing him.
“Ah— no. It’s a title. Emrys. Like how you are ‘Prince’, but also Arthur. I am— I am ‘Emrys’, but I am more Merlin. That’s the— the name my Mother called me.”
Merlin.
That’s a nice name. He liked it better than Emrys.
Arthur smiled at him, brushing his thumb over Merlin’s jaw. “Alright. Thank you for telling me.”
He kissed him again, slower this time, and let his hands wander across pale skin. Over his shoulders, down his chest—
Merlin jolted when Arthur’s fingertips brushed across something unexpected. He glanced down— and his brows shot up.
Two small bars of silver gleamed slightly in the firelight, one through each of Merlin’s nipples. Somehow, they’d escaped his notice during his initial inspection of his new husband.
Arthur blinked, then, unable to resist, dragged his thumb across one. Merlin gasped, whole body jerking forward.
Fascinating.
Then he managed to get control of himself. He didn’t want to scare off his new husband on their very first night. “Do they hurt?”
“N-No,” Merlin was trembling under his hands, holding himself rigid as every muscle lightly shook. “They are ful— fully healed. It’s a coming-of-age tradition. The piercings.”
Perfect.
“Can I play with them, then?” Merlin’s eyes were wide as a startled deer, but he still tentatively nodded.
Arthur tugged lightly, then rolled the metal between finger and thumb, watching the way Merlin's lips parted in a soft whimper. He teased both, stroking and pinching until the buds flushed darker, standing firm on his husband's flushed chest.
Merlin clutched at his wrists but didn’t push him away, panting, eyes glassy.
Arthur leaned in close, smirking against his ear. “Sensitive, are we?”
A broken sound escaped Merlin’s throat, half-protest, half-plea.
Arthur decided it was time for more.
He pressed gently until Merlin toppled backwards on the bed. He was truly gorgeous, his limbs sprawled askew beneath Arthur as his painted skin caught the firelight in a mesmerizing pattern.
To think, he’d been dreading this a mere hour ago.
Now it would take all the knights in his army to drag him away.
Arthur hovered over his husband for several long moments, drinking in the sight.
“Are you ready for more?”
Merlin’s eyes didn’t lose that glazed look, but his nod came quick and without hesitation.
Arthur retreated from the bed for just a moment, eager to remove his last layer of clothing.
His shirt landed on the floor with a soft thud, followed by his breeches and boots. When he was at last bare, he glanced up at Merlin and his mouth twisted in a smirk. Merlin was staring at him with wide eyes, gaze flicking over him and then darting away, clearly shy and a little overwhelmed.
He’d closed off a bit in the time Arthur wasn’t touching him, sat up, and crossed a thigh over his groin, hiding again.
Arthur grinned, crawling back onto the bed and taking hold of Merlin’s thighs, pressing them apart until he could settle in the space between his husband’s legs.
Merlin collapsed back flat on the bed, throwing his arms across his eyes, adorably shy.
Arthur crawled up his body until he could brace his arms on either side of his head. He was content to let Merlin hide for now, but hopefully by the end of this, his husband would feel no need. “You’ll tell me if I go too fast?”
He got a tiny hum of agreement and a little jerky nod. The thin chest under him rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths. Arthur leaned in to kiss him despite the awkward angle required by the arms covering Merlin’s eyes. He kept the kiss gentle, letting their lips move together until Merlin’s body eased beneath him, the stiffness melting from his shoulders.
Only then did Arthur trail his lips down Merlin's jaw, tracing his throat to the painted skin of his chest. He paused at one pierced nipple, licking at it gently before taking the bud into his mouth and biting down. Merlin cried out, hips arching helplessly.
Arthur teased with his tongue and teeth, tugging the little bar with the edge of his lips until Merlin’s hands flew to his hair, clutching tight.
He pulled back, lips slick with his own saliva, to look up at his husband. “Beautiful,” he whispered, and Gods, he was so thankful to mean it.
Merlin’s answer was less of a word and more of a broken little noise.
Arthur kissed lower, tracing over the soft lines of his stomach, until he could take the tip of Merlin’s cock into his mouth, suckling gently. Merlin keened, hips jerking up against him and thighs beginning to shake anew.
Arthur gently held him down with one hand, rolling his soft sack in the other. He kept his touches gentle, just slowly memorizing the shape of him.
He licked and suckled gently until Merlin’s movements began to edge more into desperation territory. Not wanting to make his husband come too soon and be unable to continue, he released him from his mouth, stroking softly against Merlin’s hip when he let out a whine of loss.
Arthur stretched over to reach into his bedside table, plucking up the vial of oil there. He popped the cork open, and Merlin went tense at the sound, staring down at him with wide eyes.
“Easy, Merlin.” Arthur tried to soothe him, quickly slicking several of his fingers, “I'll be gentle.”
“I’ve— I’ve never—” Merlin’s voice came out rough and a little too high-pitched.
Arthur's chest clenched. He kissed the hollow on Merlin’s hip, “I know. I’ll take care of you.”
Merlin twitched when he pressed his slick fingers to his hole. He pressed gently, not trying to shove in, just working the muscle until his fingertip was able to dip in, sliding past the tight ring until he met resistance. Merlin’s body fluttered and clenched around him, and Arthur waited it out, waited until Merlin’s ragged breathing steadied and he eased back into the sheets.
He pushed in a little further, curling his finger and prodding it around, searching until Merlin yelped and twisted, muscles clamping down on his finger.
“There we go,” Arthur murmured to him and crooked his finger again, making sure to rub his calloused fingertip directly into that spot that made Merlin whine. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
Merlin could only nod, breathless, his whole body shivering.
Arthur carefully added another finger, stretching his husband carefully, scissoring until his muscles loosened around him. Merlin’s whimpers grew needier, his hips beginning to rock down onto Arthur’s hand. By the time Arthur slid a third finger inside, Merlin was panting out broken half words, clutching at the sheets with white fingers.
Arthur withdrew at last, slicking himself thoroughly. He crawled up Merlin’s body until he could press their mouths together again, taking a minute to swallow Merlin’s whines.
His cockhead bumped into Merlin’s entrance, but he didn’t push in yet. “This might hurt a bit at first, but I promise it will feel good after a few moments, ok?”
He waited for Merlin to murmur his acknowledgement before he pressed forward, slowly, carefully. The tight heat swallowed him inch by inch, and sure enough, Merlin went tense around him, clamping down and whimpering not in pleasure but in pain.
Arthur stilled, pressing kisses to the corner of Merlin’s mouth until the man turned his head away, face pinched with pain. “Relax, it’s okay. You have to relax.”
“I’m trying!” Merlin hissed at him through clenched teeth.
“Okay, Okay, I know.” Arthur held as still as he could, wincing through the almost painful clamp that Merlin’s core had on his cock. He wanted to wait until Merlin was comfortable, but the man couldn’t seem to get his body under control, and Arthur knew that at this point he was just prolonging the discomfort.
He shifted his weight to one elbow, reaching down with the other hand to grasp Merlin’s half-softened cock, coaxing it back into the erect state it had been in before Arthur had begun pushing. Merlin shuddered around him but still didn’t release his tightly clenched muscles.
“You’re not going to like this. I’m sorry, but I promise it’ll get better.” Merlin’s brow pinched in confusion, and he opened his mouth, but Arthur just leaned in, pressing their lips together as he pushed again, stopping only when his hips were flush to Merlin’s ass.
He swallowed Merlin’s cry and kept stroking his cock, trying to counterpoint the pain. He murmured apologies against Merlin's lips, only pausing on occasion to kiss away the tears that dripped from his eyes.
Merlin clung to his shoulders, trembling as Arthur stroked him through the pain. Thankfully, the sharpness of his face quickly began to melt away, and his breathless sounds turned more towards pleasured than pained. Relief flooded Arthur when Merlin finally relaxed back into the bed, tension melting away and tightness easing.
“That’s it,” Arthur murmured against his lips. “You’re doing so well. God, you feel incredible.”
Merlin whipmered again, but Arthur could tell by the way his hips gave a tentative little roll that the worst had passed. He carefully retreated just a fraction of an inch before pressing back in.
Merlin jolted against him, gasping. Arthur froze again, fearful he’d hurt him, but Merlin pressed back harder, managing to shove Arthur just a little bit deeper.
His husband blinked up at him, eyes wide and lips parted, “Full,” he whispered, astonished.
Arthur laughed softly, though it was slightly rough with his own restraint. “Yes, I imagine you are.”
He kissed him again, then drew back slowly, pushing forward just as gently. Arthur built his rhythm with care, each movement smooth and matched with a kiss or word of praise.
Soon, Merlin was meeting him thrust for thrust, hips rocking back and sounds spilling freely from his lips. Arthur bent down until he could take one of Merlin’s pierced nipples into his mouth again, biting and tugging at the metal until Merlin cried out, body arching beautifully.
Arthur's restraint broke.
His pace grew faster, need rapidly overtaking caution. He pressed deeper, moved harder until Merlin was shaking apart beneath him, even nerve alight.
Arthur tightened the hand around Merlin’s cock, stroking his fingers up the vein and rubbing at the head. It took only moments before Merlin convulsed, hot release spilling into Arthur’s hand and onto Merlin’s belly. His core clamped down on Arthur almost as tight as before, and it was enough to drive Arthur over the edge, spilling inside with a groan that tore through his chest.
He collapsed against Merlin, only barely catching himself to prevent squishing the smaller man.
Arthur stayed there until the last of the aftershocks faded, and both their breathing had slowed. He dropped his head to Merlin’s, pressing their foreheads together.
“I can’t believe I got so lucky. I thought I’d end up in some miserable political marriage, but… you’re perfect.”
Merlin blushed deeply in embarrassment, squirming under Arthur's weight. This close, the gold swirling in his eyes seemed to glow, twisting in fascinating patterns.
“I don’t think it had anything to do with luck,” Merlin murmured and then tentatively tilted his head up to kiss Arthur.
He allowed it for a moment, but confusion overtook his desire to keep kissing. “What do you mean? If not luck, then what?”
“It was your seer.”
Huh?
“My seer?”
“Yes. Your seer. The Lady Morgana. She came to my druid camp and proposed our bond to my elders.”
“...Morgana isn’t a seer.”
“...Tall, long dark hair, looks like she’d slit a man's throat for breathing at her? That Lady Morgana?”
“That… sounds like her.”
“Then yes. She’s a seer. She had visions of us, my elders verified it. That’s why they allowed the bond.”
“...”
“...”
“... that Bitch!”