Who Can Touch A Unicorn?

Chapter 3

Merlin, Arthur decided, was a terrible manservant. Of course, he had said as much before – but this time he really meant it. Honestly, what kind of a manservant made cleaning armour look so … erotic?!? He had returned to his chambers, expecting to find them empty and instead had been confronted with the sight of Merlin actually doing his job for once. Arthur was sure none of his other servants had ever caressed the hilt of his sword so lovingly, or run their fingers so luxuriously down the blade. Then again, he was sure none of his other servants had such pale and elegant fingers either.

It should be a crime for any servant to have such dexterous digits, Arthur told himself, as, with a twist of the wrist, Merlin flicked the cloth he had been using to polish Arthur's sword over the pommel, cupping it gently in his palm.

Since the moment at the feast, Arthur had come to terms with the fact that a spell had been cast upon him. It was a logical assumption, he assured himself, there was no way he would willingly be attracted to Merlin. The mere idea was preposterous.

Of course, there was no need to inform his father of this. As spells went, this was obviously harmless, and truth be told Arthur did not want to have to explain to his father the exact nature of the spell – let alone the feelings it had evoked.

As he watched Merlin's tongue dart out to wet his lips in concentration, Arthur resolved never to tell a living soul of this spell. He would simply have to deal with in his own way – yes, that made perfect sense.

The easiest way to deal with this problem, Arthur decided, was to remove Merlin from his presence entirely. All he needed to do was relieve Merlin of his duties until such time as the affects of the spell wore off. After all, if he could not see Merlin, he would hardly feel the need to pin his manservant against a wall and ravish him.

Unfortunately, just as Arthur reached this conclusion, Merlin happened to raise his head – finally noticing that Arthur had entered his own chambers (he really was a terrible servant) – and smiled. That smile was Arthur's undoing.

He was sure Merlin did it on purpose – smiled at him with such open adoration just to ensure Arthur would never dismiss him.

Merlin strove to keep his eyes from drifting south of Arthur's face as he smiled a welcome to the Prince. He had been aware of Arthur presence for sometime, but had delayed looking up until he was sure he could face Arthur without blatant lust plastered across his features. When he finally managed to get a grip on his raging hormones, it was to be confronted with the sight of Arthur, once again, in a sweat-soaked shirt, straight from training with his knights.

Merlin's smile tightened ever so slightly as he repeated his mantra in his head: do not molest Arthur, do not molest Arthur.

The Prince, seemed entirely unaware of Merlin's dilemma, and gave an order that sent Merlin's imagination into overdrive.

"Bath, Merlin. Now."

Bath. Water. Wet Arthur. Wet naked Arthur. Oh Lord.

Arthur gave an impatient huff, brows drawing together in irritation and Merlin stood hastily, carefully placing the sword on the table before rushing to do as he was bid.

Arthur watched as Merlin upended the final bucket of steaming water into the tub and stood back with an air of triumph. Imperiously, the Prince raised his arms and waited for his manservant to help him undress.

Arthur had been thinking, as Merlin had prepared his bath water, and he had come to the conclusion that the quickest way to rid himself of the spell, was to give it what it wanted: Merlin - sweaty and naked. As Merlin's quick fingers unlaced shirt and breeches, Arthur formed a rapid plan in his mind. The plan was rough but serviceable – he was not a master tactician for nothing.

Once he was settled into the water, and Merlin was about to leave – as was customary between them – Arthur raised one hand lazily.

"Merlin, I am far too tired to wash myself today. You're going to have to do it for me."

Merlin was sure all his fantasies had come true at once. Well maybe not all – but certainly a considerable number. There was one that involved beaten cream, summer fruits, and honey – but one could not expect to have everything in life.

Trembling with anticipation, and trying valiantly to suppress it, Merlin moved towards the edge of the tub. Taking the wash cloth from Arthur's proffered hand, Merlin dipped in into the water, letting his knuckles graze against Arthur's thigh as he did so. The Prince shuddered slightly and Merlin was not sure what to make of it.

After several minutes spent lavishing attention to Arthur's torso, Merlin once again dipped the cloth into the water. Unfortunately, he also succeeded in soaking his sleeve, which had fallen from where he had pushed it above his elbow. Arthur sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Honestly, Merlin, you are clumsy. If you're going to insist on being so careless you might as well take the shirt off – I don't want you dripping everywhere." Arthur said - and then, as an afterthought, added, "And remove those breeches while you're at it."

Obediently, Merlin divested himself of his clothing, noticing that as he did so, Arthur shivered violently. The young warlock made a mental note to ask Gaius for a draught to stave off chills once he was done here.

Returning to the task at hand, Merlin crushed some soapwort leaves and proceeded to work the rich lather over Arthur's body. The Prince groaned under the ministrations, and Merlin wondered if he had pulled a muscle whilst training. It was not until he dipped his hand lower, to wash Arthur's navel that he realised the Prince was groaning for an entirely different reason.

Frozen, Merlin paused, hand scant millimetres from Arthur's hardened length. He risked a glance at his master, blood rushing to his cheeks when the Prince merely raised an expectant eyebrow. Tentatively, Merlin stroked his fingers down the silky flesh, watching Arthur's face for any sign that he should stop.

Arthur refused to look away from Merlin's gaze. Staring his manservant straight in the eye, Arthur slipped one hand below the water and wrapped it around Merlin's, guiding his servant's fingers up and down in a sensual rhythm. Still leading Merlin's movement, the Prince swiped those long, elegant fingers over his swollen head, gasping as one of Merlin's fingers dipped into the slit.

Merlin took this as a sign of encouragement, his movements becoming bolder and more sure of themselves. Arthur realised that if he were to let this go one much longer, it would be over all too quickly. With an effort of will, he disentangled Merlin's fingers from his body, opting instead to pull the young man over the edge of the tub until his face was scant inches from Arthur's lips.

He waited only long enough to ensure Merlin would not pull away before capturing his mouth in a searing kiss. He felt Merlin moan into the contact, leaning forward and forward, until with a splash he landed in Arthur's lap.

Water sloshed heavily over the sides, and Merlin broke away to stare at it in horror – it would take ages to clean up – before Arthur forcibly dragged his head back around and engaged him in more pleasant activities. Arthur hands ghosted over Merlin's skin, nails raking lightly down his back, tongue flicking over a hardened nipple before biting gently. Merlin lent into the contact, trying to feel as much of Arthur as he could in one go. He was sure he was in heaven, Arthur slick, naked body pressed tight against his own. He knew he was rutting like an animal in heat, but he could not bring himself to do any differently – besides, Arthur was just the same.

He was so delirious with pleasure, that he did not realise the Prince had shifted – moving so that Merlin was straddling his hips and his arms were around Arthur' neck – until in a feat of strength, the Prince gripped the side of the bathtub and pushed himself upright.

Instinctively, Merlin wrapped himself tightly around his master, to prevent himself from falling; he could hear Arthur chuckling as he held Merlin to him. Merlin clung, desperate, as Arthur stepped out of the tub and walked the few short feet to the bed, where he dropped Merlin unceremoniously on to the covers.

Arthur gazed down at the long expanse of soft, pale skin laid out before him. He could see the curve of Merlin's hip bones and the swell of his rib-cage above his breast. He made a mental note to make Merlin eat more – as tall as the boy was, it should not have been that easy to lift him.

He stayed, content to stare at Merlin's naked body, until the raven-haired young man reached for him imploringly. Complying, Arthur draped himself along Merlin's body, smirking as he felt his companion squirm in pleasure.

Merlin felt as though the very blood in his veins was on fire. It was too much, it wasn't enough. His hands slid over Arthur's skin, clutching, releasing; desperate for something he could not name. He wanted to feel Arthur, on him, above him, in him. The heat radiating from the Prince was life bathing in fire.

He watched through heavy lidded eyes as Arthur licked and nipped his way down Merlin's body, reducing his servant to incoherent groans and half-formed pleading cries. Teasingly, he licked the skin of Merlin's abdomen, just above where his cock lay – thick and swollen, smearing pre-come along the skin. Merlin mewled and bucked helplessly.

Arthur pressed one hand against Merlin's hip to keep him in place and then without any preamble, swallowed Merlin to the hilt.

Merlin cried out and arched off the bed as wet heat surrounded him in a way it never had before. He wanted to say something, anything - to praise Arthur, worship him, beg him never to stop, but all his mind could come up with was: hotwetgoodyes. Arthur was sucking, tongue laving against the head of Merlin's cock and Merlin could feel himself getting close, closer.

Arthur released Merlin's cock with a wet pop, swiping his tongue once more across the length before crawling back up Merlin's body, a predatory grin plastered across his face. His eyes, already dark with lust, darkened further, as he surveyed the pink flush spreading across Merlin's cheeks – his pupils wide and dilated, mouth open and glistening. Reaching up behind the headboard, Arthur snagged his fingers around a cord and tugged. A vial tumbled into view – one of the ones Gaius used for storing muscle liniment – and Arthur wasted no time in removing the stopper and coating his fingers in the thick fluid.

Keeping his gaze locked on Merlin's, Arthur slowly slid one hand between Merlin's cheeks – gently massaging the flesh in an attempt to help Merlin relax. Murmuring reassuring words into the warlock's mouth as he kissed him, Arthur slid one finger into Merlin's tight, puckered hole.

Once he was buried in Merlin up to the knuckle, Arthur crooked his finger experimentally and light burst behind Merlin's eyelids. With a gasping cry, the warlock bucked upwards, blood surging with renewed vigour to his groin.

Arthur chuckled and set about stretching Merlin wider, gradually adding a second finger and then a third – always making sure to hit that bundle of nerves until Merlin was hissing obscenities in his ear.

"Fuck me." The whispered command was almost enough to make Arthur come right there. He pulled his fingers from Merlin – ignoring the groan of loss the resulted – and sank into the hot channel, eyes rolling back into his head as Merlin's heat surrounded him. He stilled, panting, not wishing to hurt his lover, until the young man thrust his hips brutally towards Arthur's – a silent demand to move.

Arthur did so, picking up a hard, deep rhythm that had Merlin moaning loud enough for all of Camelot to hear – head thrown back against the pillows and pale skin gleaming with sweat. Merlin met him thrust for thrust, Arthur's name spilling in a continuous cry from his lips like a prayer, until he barely had the breath to speak.

Merlin's legs instinctively wrapped around Arthur's waist as the Prince drove harder, deeper, in accordance to Merlin's demands. Catching sight of Merlin's hardened prick, Arthur slid one hand between them, the last vestiges of oil still coating his fingers, and began to pump Merlin's shaft in time to his own thrusts.

Merlin's whole body tensed, like a harp string about to snap, before he moaned Arthur's name and came – spilling his seed across his stomach and into Arthur's hand. Elsewhere in the castle, a vase in Morgana's room broke to pieces, Uther's chair collapsed beneath his weight and the stuffing exploded from Merlin's bed in Gaius' chambers.

As Merlin's muscles clenched tight around him, Arthur gave a hoarse yell and followed his lover over the edge into blissful oblivion. He collapsed, in a sated heap on top of Merlin, who whined in loss when Arthur slipped gently from him. The whine was quickly replaced by a sigh of contentment as the Prince gathered his servant into his arms, and pulled him snug against his chest.

As Merlin's breath evened out into sleep, Arthur acknowledged that there had never been an enchantment. He had wanted Merlin of his own volition. But that was okay, because apparently, Merlin also wanted him.

A/N: So there you have it - the biggest load of crack (and what basically amounts to porn) that I have ever written. Apologies for any mistakes this was unbetad. And yes, I realise it is historically inaccurate.