Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/351350.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Merlin_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Arthur/Merlin
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_Canon, Underage_Sex, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism,
      Coercion, Age_Difference, Virginity
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-03-04 Words: 3855
****** In the Service of the King ******
by marguerite_26
Summary
     When Arthur looked at his new servant he wondered just who thought
     this boy’s spirit had been broken.
Notes
     Written for Kinkspiration_-_Round_4:_Underage. Thanks to
     [[info]]
novemberlite for the beta.
Additional warnings: Age Disparity has Arthur 30, Merlin 15. Brief, though
explicit moments of Arthur/OFC and Arthur/OMC
Originally posted Feb 1, 2012
King Arthur was convinced his new servant had a death wish.
He’d seen the marks on his back when he’d been dragged into the courtyard with
Lord Farland’s party. The child was stubborn as a mule, Lord Farland had
snarled to Arthur when he’d commented. Arthur had simply nodded, not needing
the details. The process of breaking a man was unseemly.
There had been a spark in the boy’s eye that was pleasing, and Arthur, in a
moment of whimsy, had requested the boy’s services for the royal household. He
might thrive out from under Lord Farland’s whip. Then again, Arthur thought as
the boy’s chin rose in defiance at his new master’s perusal, he might just find
himself in the stocks.
Now, as the servant bent at the hearth cursing and muttering to himself about
too many stairs and impossible jobs, sore knees and too many buckets to fill a
prince’s bath -- as though Arthur wasn’t soaking in said bath, well within
earshot -- he wondered just who thought this servant’s spirit had been broken.
Arthur would suggest a gag if that mouth wasn’t quite so pretty. Sinking lower
in the bath, Arthur hummed with pleasure at the steaming water sloshing up his
chest. He closed his eyes and listened with a half-smile as the servant bustled
about the room with neither grace nor care. He was … amusing. Arthur peeked one
eye open at the sound of yet another log being added to a fire that hadn’t
quite risen enough.
“Stop fiddling with the fire before you smother it.” Arthur watched the boy
school the flash of annoyance on his face, and added, “Come wash my hair.”
The servant worked the lather into Arthur’s hair, his fingers surprisingly
strong and confident for one so young. The boy couldn’t have seen sixteen
winters yet. Arthur had already been given charge of his first campaign when
this boy was at his mother’s teat.
Arthur felt his eyes flutter closed as he exhaled, letting the tingle of
pressure points on his scalp steal away the last of the day’s stress. Perhaps
this is what saved this servant’s neck: being just clever enough with his
fingers to sooth his master’s frustrations at each impertinence. The blunt tip
of the boy’s nails scratched gently behind Arthur’s ear, making him lean into
the touch and hum his approval.
Sudden stirrings of arousal sent Arthur’s thoughts wondering to Rebecca, a
pretty scullery maid. She was always eager to warm the king’s bed when the need
arose. The idea formed fully in his head and by the time he stood and stepped
out of the bath, he was more than eager for a bit of release.
As he was towelled off, Arthur watched the boy steal glances at his full cock,
and heat pooled in Arthur’s groin at the sight of the tips of the servant’s
ears and the back of his neck turning red.
Rubbing Arthur’s thighs down with a drying cloth, the servant was knelt with
his face intimately close to Arthur’s erection.
“What’s your name, boy?” Arthur’s voice came out rough, his tone sharper than
he’d intended.
Flustered, the boy looked up and needed to reach out his hand to the floor
behind him to stop from toppling over. “Merlin, Sire,” he said.
“Tell me, Merlin, are you inept at everything?”
Merlin blinked at him, mouth opening in a way that might be a seduction on
anyone else. On this boy, though, it was guileless, and somehow all the more
successful at piquing Arthur’s interest for its lack of intent.
“I’m good at... some things,” he stammered at last, flushed full red now.
“And how are you at sucking cock? You certainly have the mouth for it.”
The outraged face made Arthur laugh with delight. Merlin, still kneeling, gaped
as though unable to formulate a reply. Arthur felt the thrum of his blood
through his viens, like in the moment he’d targeted a deer and it turned to
look him in the eye, helpless as the arrow sliced the air.
He traced a finger along Merlin’s jaw, smirking. “Well, it appears to always be
open.”
Merlin’s jaw snapped shut with a click of teeth.
“Well?” Arthur asked, feeling oddly playful with this boy who seemed more full
of cheek than he’d ever seen in a servant. “Willing to prove yourself?” He
shifted his weight, jutting his hips to emphasize his point.
A shadow crossed over Merlin’s face as his head bowed, his brow marred with a
frown. He looked impossibly young. Frail.
The pull in the taut muscles in the back of the boy’s neck and the slight
tremble to his breathing were a cold splash down Arthur’s spine. An adrenaline-
induced bubble of laughter died in his chest, and his teasing smile flattened.
He was King of Camelot, and a man’s life or death could be decided over his
breakfast any given morning -- but he did not order anyone to his bed.
“You may go,” Arthur said, his voice brittle.
The boy looked him in the eye, considering him for a moment, his lips pressing
tight as if he were weighing Arthur’s sincerity or whether he’d be dragged from
his bed in the middle of the night for ten lashes.
Arthur found he couldn’t meet the boy’s gaze for long before the prickle of
shame warmed his nape. He cleared his throat, turning away and stalked toward
the pile of his night clothes left by the fire to warm.
“I said you may go,” he said pointedly, wanting the temptation removed before
he changed his mind.
The boy must have had a hidden reserve of self-preservation beneath it all
because he didn’t stay long. By the time Arthur had dressed himself, the room
was empty.
Rain pattered on the window pane, loud and lonely in the empty room. He
considered calling for Rebecca but the twist in his gut at the boy’s reaction
had dampened his interest for the night. He retired early, but sleep eluded
him.
Arthur huffed at himself for letting the situation disturb him. The boy was too
young and Arthur wasn’t one take a servant’s innocence just for the pleasure of
being the first, though given the lashes on his back and prettiness of his eyes
it was a surprise that the boy had any innocence left to take.
Arthur punched his pillow, which seemed to be full of lumps that evening, and
concluded he’d already spent more time than necessary thinking on the incident.
It had been a momentary weakness and lapse in judgement on Arthur’s part, being
taken in by a lovely pair of lips.
~o~
Two days later, Arthur finally gave in to frustration and summoned Rebecca to
his chambers. He was sitting at his desk, poring over tedious crop reports when
she entered.
She smiled sweetly as she crossed the room, sat upon his lap and asked, “How
might I please you tonight, Sire.”
Arthur grinned, dug his fingers about her waist and pulled her closer, knowing
this was how it was supposed to go.
Rebecca was a lovely woman, soft skin and full breasts. She moaned as Arthur
touched them and tugged at the laces of her dress, and squirmed as he tilted
his hips to make his intentions clear.
He’d just opened his mouth to suggest they move to his bed chambers when the
door opened and Merlin entered, arms stacked with firewood.
Their eyes met and Arthur felt the moment Merlin understood what he’d just
walked in on. He watched Merlin’s cheeks pink and rolled his hips to press up
against Rebecca’s full bottom.
Merlin was quick to break eye contact. He made for the door, head bowed, but
something made Arthur say, “Stay. I’ll need you to clean up this mess.”
Merlin’s eyes widened, focusing on Arthur, then on Rebecca whose breast was
cupped in Arthur’s hand. He didn’t look to be in such a hurry to leave any
more.
It sent a thrill down Arthur’s spine; a captive audience always did. He swept
the desk behind Rebecca’s back. Quills, ink and notes crashed to the floor in a
splattered mess. She squeaked in surprise, her eyes wide. And Arthur captured
her mouth in a kiss as he laid her out on the smooth wood. She laughed at his
eagerness and helped him as he fumbled with the layers of her dress, tugging at
her smalls, and gasped as he pressed his thumb inside to find her wet.
Arthur’s eyes flickered to Merlin. He stood frozen by the door, one hand still
on the handle and the other pressed over his breeches doing a poor job of
hiding his interest. His eyes were glazed as he stared across the room.
The angle was perfect as Arthur wrapped Rebecca’s legs around his waist and
thrust inside.
He whispered into her ear, “Should we teach the boy a thing or two?”
Rebecca arched so she could see Merlin by the door, and her breast burst free
from her unlaced dress at the movement.
Arthur flicked a rosy nipple with his tongue and felt her squeeze around his
cock. “I’m not sure if his balls have yet dropped.”
Her laughter was a soft trill. “He’s not so young as all that, your highness. I
can see it in his eyes.”
Sweat dripped down his temple. He could feel the dampness gather on his upper
lip and soak through his tunic as he rutted. He watched Merlin across the room.
“Would he be in my place, do you think, given the chance?”
Rebecca moaned, her words no more than breathy gasps. “Or mine.”
Arthur gripped her hips harder, finding himself unexpectedly close already.
“Well?” he called over to the boy. “What are you waiting for?” At Merlin’s
puzzled look, Arthur nodded towards the mess on the floor by the table.
Awkwardly, his hand still over his crotch -- hyperaware, Arthur was sure of
both eyes on him -- Merlin made his way over.
Merlin was trying to keep his head bowed. He knelt at Arthur’s feet, dabbing at
the splodge of ink, but his eyes kept flitting to the desk that was creaking
precariously and threatening to collapse.
When Arthur came, it was with his eyes fixed on the twitching muscle of
Merlin’s jaw and on Merlin’s palm, which was pressed to the bulge at his groin.
Rebecca was always discreet. She fixed herself up, blushing prettily, and left
with a soft pat to Merlin’s head and a next time, love.
Merlin stood, a wet spot obviously sweeping through at the crotch of his
breeches. “Um.” His eyes were still on the floor, presenting Arthur with little
more than the red tips of his ears to look at.
Arthur straightened his clothes and poured wine into a goblet. “Do you have
something to say, Merlin?”
Merlin shifted his weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable before
finally blurting out, “I –- I have to go,” and darting for the door.
Arthur’s laughter chased him out, loud and rich. After taking a long sip of
wine, he looked down to the floor to see the crop report he’d been making notes
on for the council meeting tomorrow covered in ink and illegible. He cursed and
decided that no matter how entertaining, young, pretty servants were too much
excitement for an old king to deal with.
Despite this conviction, over the next few weeks Arthur found himself tangled
in a sort of game his young servant. Merlin wasn’t the best servant, often late
and definitely clumsy, inarticulate with a propensity to rattle on when he
should be silent. Arthur liked him all the more for it. He was as amusing as he
was nice to look at, and Arthur’s attraction was fuelled by Merlin’s interest,
written plainly on his face. Whether it was in the brush of his hand while
removing the king’s armour, or the brightness of his smile waking him in the
mornings; it was certainly in the blush of his cheeks while watching Arthur bed
another servant.
Today when Merlin entered with Arthur’s afternoon meal, it was James, a stable
hand, who was bent over Arthur’s bed. James was tall and lanky, not much older
than Merlin. He had seemed eager enough, if a bit dull during the act itself.
The breakfast plates were set down with a clatter.
“Merlin.”
Merlin was at the door, a footstep away from escape. “Yes, Sire?”
“I’ll need you to change these sheets. They’re filthy.”
“Yes, Sire.” Merlin turned, flushed and pleading to be allowed to leave.
“Anything else?”
Arthur looked at Merlin, eyebrow raised. “Anything you would like, Merlin?”
Merlin pressed his lips tight, but that only showed off his cheekbones and the
brightness of his cheeks on his pale face. His breathing was shallow, eyes
flaring with heat.
“Come here, Merlin.”
With a whimper, Merlin moved to stand by the bed.
Arthur slowed his thrusts so Merlin could get a good look at his dick slipping
deep into James’ arse. If Merlin dared to peek -- which he would because if
there was anything Merlin had shown him in the last few weeks it was: no matter
how outraged he was at being asked to stand by and watch, he always gave in in
the end. And he always met Arthur’s eyes just before he came.
“Tell me what you brought me for breakfast.”
Merlin cleared his throat, scowled and started to list off: “Ham, bread...”
But Arthur wasn’t listening to the details, only letting the breathless,
frustrated voice wash over him. His eyes shut, the slow rhythm getting
impossible to maintain with Merlin right beside him, his voice hitching with
each of Arthur’s groans. It was too much.
Merlin remained at his side while Arthur arched over James’ body and filled his
arse with come. He quietly stepped away as the moment passed and their bodies
cooled, giving them privacy to clean up and dress.
Not another word was spoken until Arthur was tucked into his meal and Merlin
was just smoothing out the fresh sheets on bed.
Merlin walked over, wringing his hands as he stood before Arthur. “Permission
to speak frankly, Sire?” Which, Arthur assumed, meant he was hoping not to be
flogged for his boldness.
Arthur stared a minute. “Permission granted.”
“Is he the sort that you enjoy, Sire?” He motioned towards the bed.
“And you could do better?” Arthur asked, incredulous at this inexperienced
boy’s audacity. “I somehow doubt that.”
A wide grin spread on Merlin’s face, making him look young again, despite the
topic. “I could never beat James in his ability to agree with anything you
say.” He rubbed the back of his neck, as though questioning if he’d gone too
far, hen ploughed on, “He closes his eyes, bends over and thinks of which
stable ought to be mucked next while you go about your business.”
Arthur coughed, his cheeks warm. He set down his fork and rose from the table.
“And what would you be thinking of, Merlin, if you were to enter my bed?”
“I—I don’t...” His voice wavered but when his eyes met Arthur’s they were
determined. “I’ve never.”
He stepped closer so that Arthur could feel the heat radiating off him. “No, I
don’t suppose you have.” Arthur’s fingers curled at Merlin’s nape, twisting
into the fine hair at the base of his skull. Merlin’s eyes fluttered shut.
Arthur liked Merlin’s eyes defiant and his jaw proud, but when Merlin let out a
broken sigh and leaned into Arthur for the first time, his chest warmed in a
way it hadn’t in years.
“You’ll let me teach you?” he whispered, peppering kisses along the sharp jut
of Merlin’s collarbone. “You’ll let me show you how good it can feel?”
The hair on Merlin’s body was soft and sparse and Arthur couldn’t stop running
his hands over it, touching everything he could reach as he peeled away the
boy’s clothes.
“Sire,” Merlin said and the sound of it made Arthur’s teeth close on Merlin’s
neck and he sucked until the skin was angry purple and Merlin was looking at
him like he was part beast. He flashed a toothy smile and directed Merlin over
to the bed, and spread him out on the fresh linen.
Arthur’s first thought was of those lips, now red and kiss-swollen, and how
they would feel pressed to the tip of his cock, how they would look coated and
glistening with pre-come. How they would feel stretched wide around his girth,
as Merlin looked up with watery, panicked eyes, Arthur’s cock knocking the back
of his throat. He squeezed himself through his breeches just to relieve the
pressure in his aching cock at the thought.
But the sight of the boy’s nearly bare chest, the slight frame, pale skin and
ribs Arthur wanted to count with the flick of his tongue changed his mind. He
flipped Merlin onto his stomach.
Merlin muttered his confusion as Arthur’s mouth travelled everywhere. He nosed
at each bump of the boy’s spine, rubbed his stumble along the smooth expanse of
skin. Beneath him, Merlin squirmed as he pressed kisses to the long silver
strips that decorated the boy’s back.
He worked his way lower, and lower still, until the gentle rise of Merlin’s
arse brushed his chin.
The boy stilled. “What are you--”
Arthur kissed Merlin’s cleft, darting his tongue between the arse cheeks just
for a tease. Arthur whispered, “Just a finger.” He held out his middle finger
for Merlin to wet. “Just a finger this time.”
Merlin’s arse was beautiful, smooth and pert and as hairless as a woman’s. It
made Arthur’s pulse thunder in his ears. Merlin opened his mouth and let Arthur
push the finger inside. Merlin’s tongue poked at the intrusion, as blunt and
bold at anything Merlin did, then he sealed his lips around the knuckle and
sucked. Arthur’s breath hitched, his cock pressing at his laces as he rocked
into Merlin’s thigh.
“Has anyone ever done this to you, Merlin?”
Merlin opened his mouth, letting the finger slip free. “No.”
Arthur looked at the glistening finger. It would be enough. “Turn over, then. I
want to see your face.”
A blush crept down from Merlin’s neck, spreading in blotchy patches across his
chest to the spattering of hair above each nipple. His Adam’s apple bobbing
with each thick swallow, he bent his legs at first, then he laid them out
straight and then bent again.
Arthur placed a hand on his knee and smirked. “Like this,” he said, trailing
his fingernails down the sensitive skin of Merlin’s inner thigh until he
reached the wrinkled sack. He held it in his palm, rolling it in his fingers.
“Oh.” The sound came from between Merlin’s lips like a breathy moan. His face
went slack and his knees fell open.
It was all the invitation Arthur needed. He found Merlin’s hole, his wet
fingers circling the furrowed muscle. “This all right?” Arthur asked just to
force the nod the Merlin, and get that blush burning a little brighter.
He catalogued every reaction, the way Merlin’s lips parted, the tensing of
every muscle at the intensity, the newness of the sensation. And as he pushed
in, the way his nostrils flared and his hips tilted. He held Merlin’s gaze
through it all. He had a way of looking at Arthur, piercing him in a way that
went so far beyond his years. Arthur had to wonder if it was all a trick. If
this boy was nothing of the sort -- an old soul trapped in a young body.
He felt the trembling of Merlin’s leg pressed alongside his own, and he tore
his eyes from Merlin’s. He focused instead on his fingertip as it disappeared
into the tight clutch of the boy’s virgin hole. He hooked a hand under Merlin’s
knee, pushing up and forcing his arse on display.
“Don’t,” Merlin whined, trying to squirm out from under Arthur’s gaze.
“None of that.” Arthur laughed. “You are far too perfect like this to hide.”
Arthur spread him wider, moving to settle between Merlin’s knees. He was
grateful he’d kept his breeches tied or he was sure he’s just plunder him right
now, and scare this frightened little bird off forever. And this particular
catch he really wanted to keep, more than he’d wanted anything for a long time.
His free hand went to Merlin’s cock. He held him loosely, just enough of a
distraction, a slow pump up and then down, and then with a twist of his wrist
of his other hand he sunk the finger to the knuckle.
Merlin dug his heels into the bed, arching his body and crying out. He slapped
Arthur’s hand away from his cock and pumped it furiously, coating his belly
with come. Arthur cursed, his body thrumming at the sight and he pulled at his
laces until his found his cock. Leaning over Merlin, he tugged at his cock,
watching Merlin watch his hand until he spilled, adding to the mess.
He pressed his forehead to Merlin’s shoulder, dragging in ragged breaths as his
heart rate calmed. Merlin tugged at his hair until Arthur lifted his head
enough that Merlin could press his troublesome lips to Arthur’s. He kept his
eyes open, nervous, as though kissing the king might be treason if not done
properly.
Arthur collapsed on the bed beside Merlin, wiping his brow with the back of his
forearm.
The room was silent but for the bustle of the courtyard below the open window.
The candle mark told Arthur he was late for that afternoon’s council meeting.
Someone was bound to come looking for him soon. Shirking duties to bed a
fifteen year old boy was just the sort of tale to spread like wildfire through
the castle. He should get up. Instead, he turned to his side so he could trail
a hand up Merlin’s side, over the sharp angle of his hipbone and down again to
his smooth thigh, enjoying the tickle of the soft hair beneath his palm.
“You have gentle hands for a king.”
Arthur looked down at his sword-calloused fingers and imagined the rough
scratch of his fingertips on young skin and wondered if Merlin was mocking him.
Snorting, Merlin folded his hand over Arthur’s. “That’s not what I meant,
Sire.” He turned his hand so that the sunlight caught the faint jagged scars
circling his wrists.
Arthur vowed to turn down the next trade negotiation with Lord Farland,
“You do test one’s patience, Merlin,” Arthur said, his voice thick with regret
that Merlin had suffered under any other master. He cleared his throat, trying
to keep his voice light. “It’s amazing you survived at all under Lord Farland’s
hand. You’re a terrible servant.”
Merlin made a grand show of being affronted, but his eyes turned coy. “And I
suppose you are willing to teach me?”
Arthur grinned, knowing he was in over his head with this boy. “Impossible
tasks intrigue me.”
When the knock came requesting his presence in the council chambers, Arthur
ignored it.
 
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