Archive of Our Own ^beta

Merlin tries to keep her face expressionless as she stands next to Gwen and George in the great hall. The three of them stand behind their masters and await the order to serve more wine or food. On a normal feast day Merlin would be talking with Gwen, and even George would chime in eventually. It hasn’t been a normal anything since Sir Breunor arrived from his father’s lands to visit with the prince and give his assessment from the fort.

Sir Breunor raises his hand and eyes her sideways, a come hither if she’s ever seen one. She feels dirty as she steps in between the knight and Arthur, refilling his glass and not being able to do anything about the overly familiar hand resting on her back. As quickly as she can she steps back to the wall and stands next to George. “Knights are meant to follow the code of chivalry.” He says sadly. He’ll never speak more openly in the presence of his master, or any other nobles, but she feels his sympathy regardless.

“The good ones do.” She says simply and smiles when Morgana and Gwen look over at her from their side of the table. Lunch passes with frequent trips to both Arthur and Sir Breunor’s side, and Merlin is genuinely tired when Uther finally excuses himself, allowing Arthur to do the same without disrespect. She can feel the beginnings of tension building from grinding her teeth together, her wound up muscles, and she just needs to relax. There’s no time for her to take a bath right now though, Arthur will need to be down on the training field in an hour or so and Merlin must be with him.

“Are you ok?” Arthur immediately speaks up when she closes the door behind them and she sighs, falling into his waiting arms.

“What a fucking creep. I can’t wait til he leaves.”

“I’m sorry, Merlin. The knight’s code tells us to help women of all status, not to take advantage. If I could take away his title for such deplorable behavior I would.”

“I know.” Arthur holds her tight and suddenly Merlin knows what would help her relax after all. Arthur is every inch the respectable, noble, chivalrous knight. She knows that at heart. But according to the laws of the land, so was Sir Breunor. “Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“I want you to have me.”

He’s silent and she looks over at him. There’s no sign of misunderstanding in his eyes, she needs only to wait and see what he decides to do next. “We don’t have a lot of time right now.” It’s not a ‘no’. Not even a ‘we shouldn’t’.

“I know. I want you to take me over your desk or against the window, I don’t care. I want you to not even fully undress either of us, to just get so carried away that you can think of nothing else. I want you to mark me in a way no one else ever will, because no one ever can.”

“Oh, love.” He kisses her once more before he abruptly pulls away, his body stiff like when he’s in front of the court. He pushes her towards his large wooden desk and spins her around facing away. She plants her hands, her fingers splayed as her breathing quickens and her cunt pulses. She hears him loosen his belt and drop his breeches before reaching out and pulling her skirts up harshly, hiking them over the small of her back. She shivers at the rush of cold air across her ass when he pushes her braies down. “Spread your legs more than that if you don’t want this to hurt.” He almost sounds like a stranger, his voice is so harsh, and without seeing him she can imagine she’s being taken against a desk by an overwhelming stranger. She walks her legs out, stretching her hands out across the face of the desk as she presses her front to the smooth wood. Her knees are spread and her ass is sticking up high, and she feels the rush of humiliation flood through her like a fire. She’s never felt quite so exposed, so able to be used and it's just Arthur. He runs his hands along her ass, slapping her once to her shock, before taking himself in one hand and spreading her cheeks, pushing into her sopping wet entrance in one quick movement, not even bothering to stretch her at all or make sure she was ready.

His hands slide up to the small of her back underneath the fabric of her dress as he immediately sets his own pace, and it’s not slow. She feels each breath pushed out of her roughly when his hips meet hers and she can’t help but moan brokenly. “Arthur-” Merlin tries to spread her legs even further, to push back against his thrusts and take him deeper. Her braies only allow her to spread so far though so she digs in with her palms and arches her spine, gasping sharply as he hits that spot within her repeatedly. “More, please-” Firm hands grip her shoulders and Arthur fucks her harder, faster. He’s panting behind her, worked up far quicker than usual and without any warning, without even reaching for her clit to help her finish he spills inside her. She only notices abstractly because he never actually stops pressing into her, his pace getting wilder, less consistent as he keeps going. Merlin whines at the overwhelming sensation throughout her, building up differently than her usual climaxes, less of smoothe satisfaction and more harshly being dragged over the edge. When Merlin feels the mess of her slick and his cum starting to trickle down her thighs she clenches around him hard, instinct to keep everything inside her, to make him spill more. He hisses as he rams his hips against hers, spilling inside her for a second time. “Fuck-”

Arthur pulls out as Merlin rests her weight against the table, breathing deeply for the first time in days. She doesn’t move as she hears him shuffling behind her to redress himself, just keeps her ass right where he wanted it and admires the feeling of cooling wetness surrounding her. She clenches on air a few times to push more of the slick out and he groans behind her, rubbing her ass again. “Are you ok, darling? Not hurt anywhere are you?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever felt more relaxed Cariad.” He presses her legs closer together and refastens her braies before dropping her skirts over her lower body.

“Stand up, Merlin.” She does, and turns to face him. His face is even, not a smile line in sight, but his eyes reveal him as they always do. “I don’t want you to clean yourself until I have my bath later. If you want to be fucked like a harlot you’re going to wear the mess with pride.”

“Gladly, sire.” His face softens then, smiling proudly at her.

“I love you.”

“Thank you for doing that for me. Though I don’t think it made you uncomfortable.”

“To claim you privately, if I can't speak publicly? No, Merlin, for once we seemed to be on the same page. It eases my heart to know there can be no competition for your gaze.”

“Never, Arthur.”