Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/617757.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Merlin_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Merlin/Arthur_Pendragon, Arthur_Pendragon/Other(s)
  Series:
      Part 2 of Cum-Addict!Arthur-verse
  Stats:
      Published: 2010-01-10 Words: 2641
****** In Search of Kings ******
by Lilydancer

Title:In Search of Kings
'Verse: Cum-addict!Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Possible dub-con, reference to non-con, young!Arthur (well 13),
Arthur/Other
Wordcount: 2,520
Summary: Written for the following prompt at
[http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/community.gif?v=100.1]
kinkme_merlin: Arthur/Merlin, Arthur is a cum-addict because he's been sucking
cock since he was young. Merlin tries to satisfy his cravings. Bonus points for
a scene involving Merlin jerking off into Arthur's dinner and Arthur eating it
with his fork and spoon. Would really love it if this plot remained in canon
instead of AU or modern day. Originally posted here.
Author's Notes: Thanks to those who commented on the kink meme and especially
to [http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=100.1]tarot_card_ for
hoping I would de-anon. Thanks also to the OP for the prompt!
 
Arthur had been 13 the first time he took a cock into his mouth. He and Lord
Pendlehurst’s youngest son, Peter, had been fumbling around in the stables,
hiding together to avoid training and in matching rebellious moods. Peter was
two years older than Arthur but almost famous for his sexual exploits, which
were the talk of most of the knights and all of the squires and not quite
completely concealed from those who should never have to hear of such things.
Only children under 12 managed to escape whispered rumours about Peter’s latest
conquest; his latest tutor or tutee in the midnight hour.
 
At 12, Arthur would have been grateful if he’d known what he didn’t know. At
13, he needed to prove to his father that he was a man, and a man who could
become king at that. He felt embarrassed to have missed it, to not have seen
and understood what had been going on between Peter and a number of men and
women who passed by the castle.
 
And the men – the Knights, even - seemed to look up to Peter, to admire him.
Arthur would need them to look on him as worthy, as a man and a leader, and
Peter had that. For now, Arthur was just a squire, Prince or no. But he was
determined to prove himself both on the training ground and off; today he chose
off, tomorrow he would excel on it too.
 
There had been a few quiet fumblings with Peter before now; palming at each
other, Peter teaching Arthur how to use his hand on another body, the little
tricks he was barely starting to discover he liked himself that would coax a
reaction from a partner. Arthur had asked Peter to teach him and Peter had been
thorough; and only a little gold had been needed to keep Peter from prattling
away to others about teaching the Prince how to touch a man. Arthur was
starting to feel uncomfortable with the arrangement – Peter seemed to enjoy
having power over him a little too much – but he wanted to learn and didn’t
know where else to go. He’d already taken a risk with this. Yet a desperation
burned beneath his chest; a longing to be a man, and a Prince and son his
father could be proud of. And Arthur could think of nothing else that men had
and talked about and demonstrated that children, boys, did not. So this was
what he would do; and if he needed to change the arrangement he would do so
when the time came.
 
But this time when he curled his fingers around the hot weight of Peter’s
prick, a hand curled around his wrist and Peter’s mouth was at his ear,
whispering of other things men did to each other; of how good it felt when a
mouth was wrapped around your cock.
 
Arthur jerked back, almost stumbling. He stared at Peter in shock. Put his
mouth on…? Take it between his lips?
 
His gaze moved to settle on Peter’s hard cock, taking in the length and width
of it. Arthur had felt a sharp, bitter tang of revulsion at the first mention
of the idea, but as Peter made no apology and did not admit to joking, Arthur
gathered that men probably really did do this to each other. And he wanted to
be a man. He didn’t have to do this – a few extra coins and Peter would all but
forget that the Prince had ever clapped eyes on his naked body – but he would.
Knights must have courage, after all, and kings must make decisions and take
advice from those with greater expertise.
 
As he settled on his knees in straw and hay and the general detritus of the
stables, Arthur flushed. He felt acutely aware, now, of the way this
arrangement was skewing the rightful balance of power between himself and Peter
– of the power Peter had over him. It was not a feeling Arthur liked.
 
But he would learn. He could reassert himself later.
 
Under Peter’s guidance, Arthur tentatively moved closer to flick his tongue
over the tip of Peter’s cock. He ignored Peter’s instruction to place his lips
around it with his teeth covered because that seemed complicated and this was
new and awkward and he was the Prince and could do as he pleased.
 
The salty taste of pre-cum assaulted his tongue and he drew back. It was an odd
taste; Arthur wasn’t sure he liked it much but he supposed he could tolerate
it.
 
So that was one less unknown in the situation. Now to try for what Peter had
actually instructed.
 
Arthur took a minute with his own finger in his mouth to figure out how to
cover his teeth, exactly, and was surprised to find it less difficult than it
sounded. Never let it be said that he did not give something his all and work
hard for it. Peter rolled his eyes at Arthur’s hesitation but said nothing.
 
Opening his mouth, Arthur slid his lips around Peter’s cock. It felt wider
between his lips, awkward and too big, and he pulled back again; adjusted so
that he had a better angle to open his mouth more comfortably. As Peter ground
out instructions for Arthur to relax his jaw and take Peter’s cock deeper,
Arthur quietly obeyed, blushing and quietly ashamed of taking orders in this
way but still determined. It was humiliating to service the youngest son of a
noble he’d spoken to at dinner the previous night, but he had also asked to be
taught; so he would lessen the humiliation by doing well. He had to.
 
He brought his hand up to cover where his lips couldn’t reach, took a few tries
to get it moving with his mouth but managed it, and sucked when ordered. Peter
had barely reacted beyond quietly pointing out what he wanted – what Arthur
should do – but Arthur could hear that his voice was starting to get strained
and his breath hitched when he sucked just a little harder. Experimenting,
Arthur concentrated on trying to swirl his tongue around the head, not sure if
it could work but curious. When Peter groaned, Arthur struggled not to grin too
much around the cock in his mouth and tested what would happen if he moved his
tongue just so, or sucked a little less or more, or twisted his fist below his
lips. Peter had stopped issuing instructions; above Arthur, his breath came in
pants and moans, and his fingers were clenched in Arthur’s hair.
 
And something shifted for Arthur. It didn’t seem humiliating anymore; Peter
didn’t have the power anymore. Arthur was starting to think he could be good at
this.
 
He bobbed his head faster, aware of Peter’s legs trembling on either side of
him and Peter’s heavy breathing loud between the shuffle of hooves and the
snickers of the horses. It was completely by accident that Peter’s muttered
‘God yes’ tugged a hum from Arthur’s throat, but with that hum Peter was coming
and Arthur’s mouth filled with pulses of bitter liquid that he swallowed mostly
for lack of knowing what else to do. It tasted of salt and power and
achievement and even as Arthur still couldn’t quite say he liked the taste,
exactly, he liked what it meant; that he’d succeeded in making Peter come; that
he was succeeding in learning these things; that he was closer to being a man
and not just a boy anymore. The taste made him proud.
 
As he pulled away, Peter slumped on the floor breathing harshly for long
minutes before they decided to rejoin the training session.
 
**
 
Over the next few months, the taste of cum grew on Arthur. At first it was only
Peter’s, and Arthur began to notice that if he’d had a bad day, the knowledge
that he could do this and do it well took the edge off even his father’s
criticism. He started to seek Peter out on these days, and Peter never
complained. Sometimes, if rumours reached him that Arthur’s day had not been
good, he would even seek Arthur out before Arthur could search for him.
 
But on one such day, Peter was not there. He had returned home for his father
was ailing, and Arthur was frustrated and tired and humiliated by the dressing
down his own father had given him in front of the entire court. He had felt
like a small child again, powerless and a disappointment. After an hour of
pacing his chambers, of mock fighting and of reducing a training dummy to
shreds, he felt no better. If Peter had been there, the taste of his cum would
have reminded Arthur that he was more than just the Prince; more than just his
father’s son. Would have soothed the frayed thread of his raw nerves.
 
So he sought out Adam, who he knew from Peter to be discreet and loyal enough
that he might not even want payment to keep quiet. Arthur was surprised that
even though Adam’s cum tasted different from Peter’s, it tasted every bit as
good, carried all the same associations of success and pride; and Adam was
vocal and responsive. Arthur was feeling much more confident when they parted
ways.
 
Between then and his fifteenth birthday, Arthur slowly built a network of
people to whom he could go in times of stress; people who were honoured by the
Prince’s services and from whom he tasted achievement and admiration. It became
his habit to seek out one or other of these people at least once or twice a
week, just to keep the edge off things, and more often when he felt the need.
All were discreet – losing the trust of the next king of Camelot was not a
price worth paying – and most could have easily been paid off if they had lost
interest in discretion. More importantly, Arthur started to choose people with
ties to Camelot – people who could not expose his acts to his enemies or those
at court who would disapprove. Choosing this circle of people and making
decisions involving them reassured him outside of their sexual encounters;
being able to manage them made Arthur more confident in his ability to one day
rule the kingdom.
 
But it was not until he was fifteen that he began to realise how important the
sexual aspect of the arrangement was to him. At fifteen, having received his
knighthood barely a month earlier, he was thrust into leadership and left in
charge of training the Knights of Camelot.
 
Arthur visited 3 of the people he trusted most that night, and did not feel
calmer until the cum of the third slid down his throat. In the next morning’s
training, that same person was nicked by another man’s sword. It was not a
serious injury – small cuts and bruises were part of the day-to-day routine of
training – but it settled in Arthur’s mind. Most of those people he went to for
relief were now under his command. He might one day order them to die for him.
 
Relying on them as he did now, Arthur knew he would not be able to do that. And
he knew that he could not fail Camelot because of his own needs. That was not
an option. He would be king, but before then he would lead men into battle. He
could fail Camelot without even taking the crown.
 
That night, he visited every member of his network. He thanked them all,
rewarded them as best he could, and went to his chambers with his throat
burning for cum and tears prickling at his eyes. For two weeks, he snapped and
snarled at those around him. He picked out which servants might do well to
replace his network in a lust-filled haze and in moments of desperation before
bed only to discard them in the morning without ever mentioning the idea to
them. Everyone knew of Lady Annwin, who would probably never be married after
her father’s manservant had revealed that he had given her sex only because he
feared for his job if he said no. Everyone knew of her brother, who had been
engaged until the scandal emerged. And Arthur knew the precise sum of money
paid to that manservant to stop him spreading the story, and of the futility of
that money for the story had already been well-known enough to spread without
the manservant needing to share it.
 
Most servants probably wouldn’t have the courage to expose the situation. But
in the back of his mind, Arthur thought that probably made it worse rather than
better.
 
Arthur had even tasted his own cum one night, desperate to ease the knowledge
of every small failure and every cold word from his father. It was not as good
– there was no pride in making himself come as there was in doing the same for
others – but the taste was similar, sharp and salty, and it cooled his longing
like a soothing balm on a throbbing wound.
 
He tried bedding a woman next – perhaps it was the knowledge of success he
needed, rather that the taste of another man’s cum itself? It was common
knowledge that one of the whores in town was blind, and he easily shrouded
himself in a cheaply-bought cloak and the shadows of a cloudy night. His
identity remained hidden.
 
But though Arthur learned quickly, the sweeter, softer taste was off-putting
and after returning home he resorted again to his own cum, licked from his
fingers until he couldn’t taste even a hint of it on his skin.
 
**
 
Arthur got used to using his own cum when he needed to, but he needed to often
because although the taste and thick texture reminded him of making other
people come down his throat, it just didn’t give him that lingering sense of
accomplishment, of succeeding where his father’s judgement didn’t matter, of
proving himself to himself. He’d slipped up occasionally and asked old friends
for a repeat of what they’d known before his fifteenth birthday. Those few
times and the memories of the times before kept his need smouldering beneath
his skin where he felt it should have flickered and died to cinders and
charcoal. It should have been a thing of the past; he should have been able to
control his emotions better as the years idled by.
 
Yet he continued to ache for it. He found Merlin, who didn’t understand it but
gave Arthur what he needed. Merlin, whom he trusted completely and had more
power over than any of the others he’d tasted even as Merlin held more power
than Arthur could comprehend.
 
Merlin, who had shared his secrets with Arthur at the risk of his own life.
Merlin, who had been making little blue lights dance and chase each other above
their heads when Arthur had blinked awake that morning.
 
Merlin, who accepted Arthur as he was – his weakness for cum included – and
allowed him to keep his own secrets.

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