Title: Armor Is No Obstacle

Show: Merlin

Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur

Rating: NC-17 for sexuality

Word Count: 2,604

Spoilers: Season 1

Warnings: a bit OOC (depending on how believing you are of having dirty secrets). AU S1, unless you don't want it to be… because you never know…*winkwink*

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin or its characters. Wouldn't mind owning Arthur though… Alas!

Summary: Gwen and Arthur have a little secret tradition for the annual Camelot tournament…

*Also posted on my livejournal under same username*

A/N: The night that the merlin_rarepair Challenge 3 prompt of "kink" was posted was the same night I rewatched 1x09 on NBC. I know it's hardly the kinkiest kink out there, but I had just been thinking about how delicious Arthur was in armor a few hours previous & then my head started running away with a plot bunny… and here we go.

I present: Armor Kink. Cuz don't tell me my fellow fangirls haven't thought it at least once. Heehee.

Let's face it. This probably doesn't happen in canon. But it could. Maaaybeee ;)


Their first time together had been during Arthur's first tournament as well. He was 16. Arthur had done surprisingly well in the first rounds, especially for his young age. But there was definite speculation that he couldn't beat the reigning champion, an older and bigger man. And those sentiments were affecting Arthur's confidence.

Lady Morgana sent Gwen to his room to give him a token the night before the final challenge and that is how it had started.

Gwen couldn't be quite sure how it happened that first time. He'd been nervous about the final, she'd said something to reassure him, he'd thanked her for her comfort…. And then Gwen could not quite remember how she'd ended up in his bed from there, she only remembered that it had progressed surprisingly naturally.

And then the next morning, he won the last battle and was named champion.

The year after that, the same thing happened: Gwen went to his room with a token from Morgana for the final round and somehow fell into bed with him for the second time.

By the next year, Morgana had stopped bothering with such social obligations as giving Arthur tokens. Yet Gwen still found herself stopping by to wish him luck and was immediately embraced by him and pulled into a kiss. He never asked about the absent token; it was as if he didn't care.

It happened each year, always the night before the final match of the Camelot tournament. It progressed from the fairly awkward first encounter to the unimaginable compatibility of their fourth. Thinking back on it, they were so young when it first happened and now they were grown, both 20 in age. But time hadn't stopped their annual habit before.

It was a strange agreement. Every other day of the year, they acted no differently than they should. In fact, they rarely interacted at all. But for whatever reason it was completely different for those few hours of the night, once a year. Then the next day, they returned to perfect normality. Those were the unspoken rules.


It wasn't as if Arthur was superstitious the way many knights were, with their lucky trinkets and pointless rituals. Sleeping with Gwen was more like preparation. After which he would fall asleep soundly, tired from the exertion, instead of lying awake and worrying about the following day. Then he would wake up refreshed and relaxed, some of the euphoria from the preceding night still remaining to ward off nervousness.

The previous year Gwen had been especially useful with his extra stress over Valiant. After spending his night angry with Merlin and at his own stupidity, embarrassed by the debacle in court, and ashamed of what his father must think of him, Gwen made everything seem better for an hour. She did not say anything about it, which he was glad for. Perhaps she knew it would be better that she didn't. Instead she took his mind off everything by just making love to him so he fell asleep thinking about her beautiful figure in place of all his troubles.

But last night, he'd been wanting her to come to his room without even thinking about stress-relief. He just wanted her. It had been a whole year, after all… Yet she did not come.

He knew that day would arrive, most likely when either he had finally been arranged into a marriage or she had begun seeing a nice miller's son, an honest butcher's apprentice, or he even used to wonder about Merlin. He thought it would be because of some other relationship one of them had. But he never thought it would be because of something which had happened between them.

Months ago, something between them changed. He didn't know what or how, merely that it had changed. Perhaps it was because of the way they acted differently around each other. They didn't used to acknowledge each other at all. But then small isolated events occurred: her arrest, their cooperation to save a poisoned Merlin, their conversation at Ealdor, her father dying, him being tended by her... These little things built on top of each other until Arthur and Gwen could no longer live under the illusion that they had no other connection between them besides sex one night a year.


Gwen made her way through the grounds, navigating the maze of colored tents until she found the one she sought: red with a golden dragon.

She ducked inside, finding only Arthur among a table, a chair, and some other things.

He looked up, but said nothing. She had been afraid of him being upset, but instead he just seemed… guarded.

"I'm sorry, I never came by last night," she said quietly. "Morgana had a horrible dream last night and begged that I stay with her. I only just now have been able to get away."

"Oh." Arthur sighed heavily, as if relieved. "I thought it was… something else."

"Like what?"

He shook his head. "Just, nevermind."

There was silence between them, making them both awkwardly look away from each other.

Gwen finally wet her lips. "We could still…" At this, she raised her eyes to his, seeing him inhale and contemplate her suggestion.

Ultimately, he sighed. "There's just not enough time for me to get all my armor off and back on."

Gwen had already thought of this and shrugged one shoulder. "Then we don't take it off."


Arthur was taken aback at this. Yes, their annual tryst tended to show a bolder side of Gwen that he never saw besides then. But they never really strayed from conventional means. She even smiled wickedly at her suggestion, as if the idea of it excited her.

She held out her hand to Arthur, which he took, and led him to the table. She hopped up onto it, pulling him right in front of her and tugging up her skirt.

Her hands then went between the front slit of his knight's tunic to the bottom of his mail, lifting it and the under-layer of padding up to his stomach with her left hand. With her right, she unlaced his trousers, slipped him free, and began to rub him in her palm.

Arthur let out a strangled groan, trying to keep quiet with only the thin barrier of the tent to muffle their sounds. But he couldn't help it as he felt her hand on his arousal, now fully hard.

Gwen guided him closer, her knees catching his hips and letting his mail rest on her thighs as he came right near her entrance.

Arthur noticed how she only hitched up her skirts to her waist, but he made quick work of the ties at her front. He brought her hands away from him – despite his body's protests –and pulled the dress completely off her. Even if they didn't have to time for him to take off his armor, there was no way he was going another year without seeing her naked.

His eyes swept over her body, just as perfect as he remembered. The sunlight filtering through the red tent made her toffee skin glow a deep blush, exaggerating the flush that habitually graced her body when he took her. And Arthur liked the effect, imagining that this time Gwen was just that much hotter for him.

Gwen bit her lip in anticipation as he admired her. She rolled her hips forward, whimpering as her center brushed the head of his shaft. Arthur could feel the heat radiating from between her legs, her wetness moistening his tip from when she had grazed against him. He needed no more invitation, excitedly bracing her hips as he pushed into her.

He watched as Gwen shuddered and moaned softly. Her hand then quickly found the neck of his armor, jerking him forward into a kiss.


Arthur met her lips eagerly, wasting no time in slipping his tongue into her mouth and tilting her head back. Gwen groaned against his lips, wrapping her hand more tightly over the collar of his armor to keep him from leaving her – although she knew he wouldn't. Her other arm was slightly behind her, supporting herself as her hips met his in a steady rhythm.

He began with small thrusts, his gloved hands roving over her hips and sides up to her breasts. Gwen gasped at the exotic sensation of leather against her skin. It was strange but delicious, his ministrations making her hum in approval.

The seams of his glove proved even better when he brushed the sides of his thumbs over her nipples. She cried out, pulling her mouth from his to instinctively tilt her head back. Gwen saw as he smirked, deciding to languorously rub the seams against her nipples to see her react further. He was rewarded, Gwen biting her lip to try and keep the loud cries from escaping her mouth, resulting in desperate mewls.

Arthur pulled his right hand from her and brought it to his mouth. Their eyes locked, sharing equally lustful gazes, as he bit the tip of his middle finger and yanked the glove off. He tucked it haphazardly in the side of his belt before finding the supple skin of her thigh. Arthur growled at the contact, apparently reveling in the feel of her skin after being deprived of it from the gloves. He kneaded her thigh before traveling up to the curve of her bottom, pulling her closer against him, and plunging deeper inside her.

"Arthur," she gasped against his ear, while the arm that had steadied her on the table flew around his shoulders. He moaned lowly into her hair, although she didn't know if it was in response to her saying his name or the new intensity between their bodies.

His left, leather-clad hand traveled delectably from her hip, up her back, to between her shoulder blades and pressed her to him. She knew he was unable to feel her body through his padding and mail, so the affection of him holding her against him stirred her, although it could have easily just been done out of habit or wishing that he did not have such barriers.

Gwen, however, could still take advantage of his chest, realizing this as she rubbed eagerly against his mail. The tunic covered the mail, providing just enough protection from the roughness of the metal but not preventing her from feeling the friction of the steel links on her body. She gripped the armor plates on his shoulder tighter as she moved against him, sliding up and down to work her breasts and stomach along his chain mail.

Her thighs tightened around his hips, feeling his mail dig into her flesh. But she didn't care, she even wanted it to, to leave some mark behind, even if the pattern indented between her thighs would fade within the hour.

Her left hand ran down his armor-clad arm, urging him to pull her hips even closer and move faster, harder – which he obliged. Her fingers stayed there, skimming over the cool, smooth metal on his bicep. She listened for each dull click of the armor joints moving against each other, the metallic sound familiar to her ears.

Gwen thought of her obsession with armor. Before it had been an interest, a hobby, but this was definitely taking her love of armor to a new level. It didn't help that the days leading up to this –the only time she would allow herself to desire Arthur – he was primarily in armor. And she would watch him fight from the stands, anticipating their approaching tryst and yearning for his armor-clad body. So it did not seem so strange to her, to make love to him in his armor. It appealed to her – hell, it excited her – making her overcome with desire.

Just a little more.


Arthur knew she was close.

He always loved this part: when her body moved more feverishly against him, her breathing ragged and gasping in his ear, and she held on tighter, desperate. He liked how badly she needed him and it was up to him to appease her.

Arthur remembered their first time, when he hadn't gotten her off – something that he was still a little ashamed of. Not only had he been inexperienced, but he really hadn't thought about it. By the next year, however, he had learned a bit more and got her to come. And he made sure to each year, wanting her to get her share of pleasure considering what she was doing for him… And especially because he loved it when she did.

He watched hungrily as Gwen arched her back and tilted her chin up. Arthur took the chance to kiss and suck on her exposed neck, feeling her racing pulse and the pleasurable sounds which she held back rumbling in her throat.

Her hands went to his hair, curling fists into his locks as he drove deeper in her still. She began to twitch, right at the edge, teetering on her breaking point. He heard Gwen suck in her breath and hold it, her body stilling for just a moment before the convulsions took her. She made little yelps and growls, trying to keep her noises to a minimum, but Arthur hardly cared if someone heard them at this point.

No longer having to hold back, he fervently thrust into her, clutching at her still-quaking body, speedily finding his own release, and hoarsely calling the name his lips knew well.


Once Arthur withdrew a small distance between them, Gwen slowly fell backward to lie on the table, tired and sated. She rested her head against the arm she curled up by her ear, her other arm stretched out straight above her. Her eyes fluttered half closed, still watching him through heavy lids, as a small satisfied smile crept onto her mouth.

"Hope I didn't tire you out," she murmured.

Arthur shook his head and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his un-gloved hand. "Just warming up for the fight," he panted.

Arthur rested his fists on the table by her sides to recover. While he looked down at her he noticed how at ease she was, remembering the girl that used to be embarrassed of her nakedness at the end of the night, quickly dressing to flee his room. He met her feline smile and for the first time he knew for sure that she didn't take part in their annual trysts out of obligation, but because she genuinely took pleasure in it.

She looked so alluring stretched out before him, more than any previous year and even just minutes prior. She reminded him of a nymph, beautiful and voluptuous. Arthur wanted to have her all over again, however he knew that time wouldn't allow it… But he didn't know if he could wait another year.

"Guinevere," he whispered. "Come to my room tonight, after the banquet. Please?"

She said nothing. Instead she sat up, her hands lifting up his mail and lacing back up his trousers. Arthur nervously watched as she then righted his tunic, straightened his mail, and smoothed his hair, before finally finding his eyes again.

Her lips twitched into a smile. "Only if you win," she teased lightly, because she knew he would.

He groaned at her words, leaning in to kiss her soundly. "I've never had more incentive to," he growled before reluctantly leaving the tent, full of energy and prepared to fight a whole league of men if need be just to have Guinevere in his bed that night.


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