NOTE that this fic has been censored to fit in with requirements. For unedited read the version of it on LiveJournal.
It would surprise people to know that despite being the most admired and desired boy in the kingdom, Prince Arthur was a late-bloomer when it came to the fairer-sex.
At thirteen he had begun to notice them but he never really bothered with them. He found them complicated and annoying. All they ever did was brush their hair and talk nonsense. They said one thing but meant another. They were nasty, cruel and belittled both him and each other. They got his father on their side and convinced him that he should go in the box-room because the largest room should go to the eldest child... or maybe that was all just his mean-spirited foster sister?
Either way he usually lost interest in any girl past two days. If his infatuation lasted a week that was an achievement but it never took long for him to go off the air-headed, mouthy and pampered ladies that surrounded him.
He realised that once he got past the beauty (If you could call lots of makeup and fluffy hair actual beauty) there was very little to these girls. The only practical purpose a woman could serve him as far as he could see was to provide an heir to the throne. They were all brainless and boring as far as Arthur could tell and he didn't want to be in the company of people that either irritated him or bored him, and most did one or the other.
Arthur preferred training to girls any day. From a young age he took his role as prince and future king very seriously. He wanted to be better than not just the knights but everyone. He hoped one day no one in Albion no matter who they were would be able to defeat him.
That wasn't easy when he was thirteen. Although he had trained to kill since he was old enough to stand alone puberty had been slow coming for him. Then finally during the summer he turned sixteen he hit a growth spurt; shot up eight inches and finally got some muscle. If the young girls of Camelot had a crush on him before their hormones were sent into overdrive now.
The thirteen-year-old Gwen was no exception although she would never admit it out loud. Besides she was too busy waiting for her chest to develop to dare look at any boy let alone the prince!
Arthur had troubles of his own.
Initially he had been thrilled to have finally grown into a more masculine figure as he finally had the physical strength to combine with years of training. Naturally his father was very impressed after he had won his first tournament and that pleased Arthur even more. However his new attractiveness had a down side too.
Since he had 'finished puberty' the men tried to encourage him to take what they considered to be his 'rite of passage' into manhood – to have coitus with a girl, or at least penetrate her in some shape or form.
Gwen would constantly analyse how she was 'coming along' in her development compared to other girls. She would look up to the older maids at around sixteen or seventeen and wonder if her breasts and curves would grow a nicely as theirs seemed to have done.
It was difficult to imagine it would when every night when she measured herself there was little or no change.
When she had done measuring she would get into bed and try not to think about it, but her curiosity wouldn't leave her alone. She was embarrassed to admit she would feel the small nubs and play with the two petite breasts that were sore in their development. She noted how her nipples were larger and more profound than a few years ago. Then she would feel down her body to scrutinize the curve between her rib cage and her hip bone, checking to see whether it was softer than her childish bony figure...
She would quickly stop and pretend to be asleep when her father came in from work. Her cheeks would be red with shame as he blissfully tiptoed around the house trying not to 'wake' her.
The poor man didn't even seem to have noticed the difficult changes his little girl was going through. She still looked like a baby to him.
Gwen hated that too.
It wasn't so much that she wanted to grow up quickly (Not that it would have made a difference because her childhood had ended years ago when he mother died and she went to work in the castle – she was six-years-old.) It was just fear that she would be different to other girls.
There was also her irrational fear that no man would ever notice her and then she would die an old maid.
"If it isn't up to the job then there are always your fingers," Sir Lamorak laughed with typical vulgarity.
Arthur's head shot around to star at him. He had just turned eighteen when Lamorak came up to him and said that. He was four years older than Arthur and not an accomplished warrior. He hadn't suffered the same stunted puberty that Arthur had and spent more time screwing around with maids than on the training field.
"Excuse me?" was all the prince replied.
He had avoided talks like this since the harassing began around the time he turned seventeen. Now the men were starting to notice his lack of interest in carnal matters. Arthur knew they mocked his inexperience behind his back but he didn't care. However he also knew Lamorak would not approach him unless he had 'backing'. Uther was probably 'following his progress' in more ways than one.
"Look, if you can't get it going try rubbing it... or get her to do it," Lamorak replied patronisingly.
"Get who to do what?" Arthur gasped. His cheeks were red with embarrassment. "Does it really matter?"
Did it really matter? Yes, there were times when Arthur was curious about the female form but it didn't exactly plague his thoughts. He felt he would be better off without it as it would interfere with his training. He didn't understand what all the fuss was about; he had stimulated himself from time to time but while it was a nice release it wasn't anything special.
Lamorak laughed again. "Get yourself one of the palace maids. There are professional women in town but you can be never sure where they've been. It's better to stay at home and save your money. A nice clean maid is always best."
"Thank you for your advice," Arthur sneered. "But I have more important things to do than waste my time dallying with servant-girls."
The older knight sniggered loudly, "Don't underestimate palace maids. Some of them are very good."
Arthur rolled his eyes. He then noticed Morgana's fifteen-year-old maid Guinevere walking along the side-path carrying sheets and blankets. He didn't like the idea of maids like her getting harassed by the knights. It didn't seem ethical to have sex with the comely wenches in the palace when they couldn't say no.
"Not that one," Lamorak suddenly said.
The prince turned around. "Sorry?"
"Not her," he said again, indicating Gwen. "Too prudish – it'd be like humping a plank of wood."
Arthur recoiled in offense. Like humping a plank of wood? Did he really need to be so crude?
"Tried yourself, have you?" the prince scoffed.
"What you mean 'Little Miss Prim and Proper'?" Lamorak asked. "If you knew anything about the maids you'd know she is frigid as iron. You'd get nowhere. She's lovely and fresh but too reserved so she's no good for nice shag."
The prince had had enough.
"Will you stop talking like that?" Arthur scolded. He was embarrassed standing with Lamorak at the best of times but now he was positively mortified. "She's just a girl – she probably isn't ready for someone of your 'expertise'."
"Maybe you're right," the older man said with a grin, "maybe someone like that is better for someone like you."
He didn't have to guess what that meant. Arthur made a mental note to beat Lamorak into next week upon during tomorrow's training.
"Look," Lamorak said, almost sounding serious, "Trust me when I say that you won't understand why everyone makes such a fuss about it until you've had it yourself."
The prince was certain that was true, but he was still in no hurry to have it. He still had better things to do than a maid.
Arthur was sent to the dungeons by his father for 'drunk and disorderly behaviour'.
He hadn't expected to spend the last hours of his birthday in the dungeons but he was so drunk he hadn't noticed. In fact he was pleased – he had punched stupid Lamorak in the face.
Uther said to treat a Knight of Camelot like that meant Arthur had to be punished. He had been led from the hall laughing.
So he spent the evening alone in the cell and waiting for the eleventh bell tolled. That was his official birthday.
The cell door opened.
He looked up and saw Gwen return with a plate of food and goblet of water. He immediately remembered all the things Lamorak had said about her. He might have been able to keep it to himself when he sober in a drunken state he laughed, clapped his hands and addressed her directly.
"Well, well, well..." he said with a bright smile, "If it isn't Guinevere?"
She curtsied politely and smiled. "My lord, I've been sent to bring you something to eat and drink."
Gwen wasn't too fazed by the expression on Arthur's face. It was not one she recognised with him but she knew he was drunk and not in the right state of mind.
She placed down the tray in front of him and stepped back. Arthur picked up a piece of bread and took a great chunk out of it. She almost giggled; it was like he was putting on a show for anyone watching. It was just her.
"Wow," he chuckled. "This might be the best bread I have ever had, ever. It's really lovely."
"It's fresh," she said with a smile.
He tilted his head. "Lovely and fresh, just like you."
Gwen was confused, "My lord?"
Arthur picked up the goblet and slurped the water thirstily, ignoring her confusion. "Ah!" he said delightedly. "Fresh and lovely water too. The kitchens are spoiling me!"
"It is your birthday, my lord" she said ironically. The prince was probably entitled to something better than bread and water.
He lifted a finger. "Not yet! It is not officially my birthday until just past eleven tonight."
"You've not got long to go, my lord. It's half past now."
"Stop saying 'my lord' over and over" he groaned. "It's getting annoying."
"I'm sorry, my l—" she stopped. "I'm sorry."
Arthur patted the space next to him on the hay. She still stood still, staring at him. He patted it more fiercely and beckoned her over, "Sit down!"
Gwen obeyed immediately and sat down next to him. Her entire body felt tense. He moved to put the goblet down and his shirt brushed against her smock. She took a deep breath. Arthur noticed this and looked at her.
"Do you know what Sir Lamorak says about you behind your back?"
"I can't imagine."
"The same thing he says about me behind my back," Arthur told her. He then leaned closer, making Gwen's skin tingle. "He thinks we're frigid."
Gwen blushed. "Does he, sire?"
"Yes he does" the prince confirmed. "That's why I punched him."
"Because he said you were...?"
"No, I got annoyed about the words he used to describe the act. You know what I mean by that?"
"Yes, sire" she replied with a smile. "I know what you mean."
Frigid she may be but she did at least know about sex and what it entailed. The cook in the kitchens made sure that all the maids knew about 'The Act' as it was common knowledge that the knights went to them often. They had never propositioned her although Lamorak had given it a go once. Gwen had pretended she didn't know what he had been talking about and ran away at the earliest convenience.
Arthur picked up the goblet and handed it to her. After brief reluctance Gwen took it; he gestured for her to drink from it, which she did. She even smiled.
"We are of one mind, Guinevere" Arthur said conclusively.
She took a slip from the goblet.
"Did you have a drink tonight?" he asked.
Gwen looked up from the cup, finished and handed it back for him to take
"Just one" she replied guiltily. "My lady said I should. I didn't..." she paused and smiled bravely, "...I didn't drink as much as you sire."
Arthur chuckled and turned to take the goblet.
They sat frozen as their faces were inches away from each other. Instead of taking the chalice from her he just stared into her dark eyes, which stared dazedly back at him. The warmth of their breaths blew against their skin. It was warm, distracting and driving their hormones wild!
Without thinking Arthur lurched forward and kissed her.
It took all of two seconds for Gwen to kiss him back. She had stared wide eyes at him before her eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her head for him to kiss deeper. She could hardly push him but she didn't want to. His breath was hot and tingly with wine but she quite liked it.
She didn't know what to do other than to continue kissing. She did stop for a few breaths but he kept blindly re-connecting them.
Arthur cupped her left breast, and she liked that too. He played with nipple over the smock of her dress, rubbing and twirling his finger around until it was hard. He had never examined a breast as closely as this before. He could feel her heart hammering with anticipation beneath his hand. It made him all the more curious.
She was not especially proud of them. She thought they were still a bit too small and that they hadn't reached their 'full potential' yet. Not that Arthur seemed to mind. He just liked the feel of them; warm, soft and quivering from her heartbeat.
"You know," he said, breaking the kiss, "you can touch me if you want to."
Gwen bit her lip.
Where could she touch him, though? Up until that point her hands had been propping herself up from behind as he leaned against her. Nervously she brought them around and rested them on his shoulders.
He leaned forward to kiss her again and resume caressing her breasts. Her own hands gently stroked down his arms. They were a lot stronger than a few years ago. It made her blush to think she had thought of touching them then. It was odd because she didn't particularly like Arthur most of the time but she had admired him putting Lamorak in his place.
She could feel one of his hands journey further down, so she did the same to him. He had said she was allowed to.
Arthur was surprised at himself.
It was still mainly curiosity that was driving him although the burning sensation in his stomach was starting to take hold. He knew what that sensation meant and it surprised him. Vulgar as Lamorak was he was starting to understand what he was talking about.
Despite her own doubts about her still-maturing figure Arthur had no complaints. She wasn't frigid and cold at all, but warm and pleasant. Her dress was shapeless and downright unflattering but her sweet little figure was in the making under there. It would be even better when she was older. Arthur briefly likened Guinevere to a butterfly; that one day she would cast aside her cocoon and select a more fitting dress.
Maybe she was a bit too shy to do that now and didn't realise that despite being a bit plain in her dress, she was actually very nice...
"I think—" Arthur began but stopped. One hand was resting on her hip while the other lay in her lap. He blushed slightly.
The eleventh hour bells started to toll from the tower. They both looked up at the high window and then back at each other.
He tried again to say it. "I think you're—"
Gwen shifted. As she moved she felt something hard brush up against her knee. It made her and Arthur gasp, one with surprise and the other with embarrassment.
Arthur immediately pulled himself away from her. He sat hunched up and tried to hide what she already knew was there. She was still surprised not least because she knew exactly what it was.
"Is there anything... I can do?" Gwen asked, nervously.
His cheeks burned even more.
In truth he wondered what it would be like to have someone else to touch him there. God knew he was wanted to touch her... but somehow it didn't seem right. It felt too sudden, too cheap and too much like what other men would do. More specifically like what Lamorak would do.
"No," Arthur said after brief contemplation. "No, actually, maybe you should get on home now."
"Are you sure you're... alright?" she asked, unable to stop looking between his legs. She was certain that now she was blushing too. "I don't mind..."
"Really," he snapped firmly, "I'm fine. Just go."
Gwen quickly got to her feet, picked up the tray (Only then remembering that was why she had originally come to see Arthur in the cells) and scurried away as fast as she could, not looking back. He reluctantly watched her leave. Then he turned his back to the cell door, untied his trousers and proceeded to finish himself off.
The last bell tolled.
Gwen bumped into two of the guards at the bottom of the stairs leading to the dungeons. They both chuckled as she walked past, saying that the prince had 'kept her a while'. She muttered something about having to make sure he drank the water and ate the food before she ran up the stairs to escape.
She reflected on what had happened as she walked home.
What had just happened back there?
Arthur was a prince. He had kissed and touched her. She had touched him. How did it all come about? He was a bit drunk. Yet he had the presence of mind to stop what they were doing just when he needed her the most. Gwen couldn't understand why. He must have wanted to, to have grown hard like that. If it had been any other man he'd have had her on her back before she knew where she was, but he didn't.
There was a part of her that wished he had.
Gwen knew that was just her emotional running on a high. If something had happened she knew she would have regretted it. She had always imagined something better than to lose her virginity on a bed of straw in Camelot's dungeons.
He had done her a favour by stopping it.
She also knew that after tonight Arthur would probably never look in her direction again. He had played with her because he was drunk and she happened to be there. If it hadn't been her, it would have probably been some other servant girl.
No, nothing would change.
The two lovers collapsed against the bed exhausted from their exertions and blissfully content as the aftershocks of pleasure ebbed through them. Gwen snuggled against Arthur's chest, completely satisfied. Her lips caressed his collarbone. He stroked her back as they waited to catch their breaths and for calm to return to the room.
It was dark outside. The eleventh bell tolled out across the city.
Gwen waited for the bell to finish before she sat up, straddling Arthur's stomach and reached over to the table where a goblet of wine stood. She picked it up and raised it in a toast.
"Congratulations," she smiled down at him. "Twenty-four years old. How do you feel?"
Arthur smirked. "Not all that different to be honest."
She smiled before taking a large gulp and a parched sigh.
He sat up and she allowed him to drink from cup also. When he was done she placed it back on the bedside. Arthur then lay back against the pillows and rested his hands on Gwen's hips.
Gwen watched him for a moment before she spoke again.
His eyes were closed and his expression relaxed. She brushed his wet fringe from his forehead.
"Do you remember your nineteenth birthday?"
A small smile appeared on his lips. "Yes. I was a bit drunk but yes."
"So you remember feeling me up in the dungeons?"
Arthur opened one of his eyes.
"You've waited five years to bring that up?"
"Well, it is your birthday" Gwen said, sitting up to look down on him again. "The eleventh hour has just sounded like it did that night too, and we've just had sex... which we didn't do that night."
He closed his eye again and grinned.
"I hope you're not still disappointed" Arthur joked.
"Who said I was disappointed?"
He chuckled. "I remember that night very well. You were prepared to get me off yourself if I'd asked you to."
"I was hardly going to say no to the prince," she said in a mock protest. "I mean had you asked me, I'd have done it."
"I know you would," he replied simply, still smiling. "I could tell you wanted to touch me as much as I wanted to touch you. It wasn't just excitement over your breasts that got me going..."
"I admit I wanted to touch you," she replied. "You're a very good-looking man, a prince no less. I was... curious."
"Well" Arthur began, and took one of her hands to below his abdomen. "You know now. I hope it lived up to your expectations."
"Surpassed them," Gwen corrected him. She leaned down to kiss him, speaking in between breaks. "That said. I've always. Wondered. Why?"
He responded pleasantly, "Why what...?"
"Why you stopped when you were in need of," Gwen paused, twirling her free hand as she tried to find the right word, "relief."
Arthur opened both his eyes. He thought it was strange that after all these years – even after they fell in love and began their relationship – Gwen had never asked him about that night before now.
"It didn't feel right," he replied thoughtfully. "I wanted to but it didn't feel like our time, if that makes sense."
It was almost like even then he knew they were destined for better things than to have a quick shag in the dungeons on his birthday. "If we had done it," he added, "You'd never have been able to look me in the eye again."
She knew he was right.
Then in one swift moment Arthur rolled Gwen onto her back. She chuckled as he leaned over her now with a seductive smile. It sent a rush through her, preparing her for their second time tonight. His twitch became more profound as he became aroused again.
"Much more comfortable to do it in a bed than on a cell floor," he said, kissing her again.
"True," Gwen said before their lips touched. She lifted her head to take his kiss in deeper, causing him to groan and his excitement to sharpen dramatically. "Although I don't know – now we've got past the awkward first-time sex the chains in the cells might make an interesting game."
"Oh really?" he asked, pushing her legs apart.
He placed his fingers against that particular point that on that night in the cells he had wanted to touch. He hadn't then but their relationship had since made up for that loss. Despite being naive to the workings of the female form then, he was now well-versed in the points that made Gwen scream.
Gwen sighed pleasantly, and reached down to take hold of him. Again that was another part that had missed out on being touched that night. The next time Gwen came to feel it – when she was older and better prepared – she made sure she didn't leave him half-satisfied.
He pushed into her once again, causing a loud moan to escape both of them. This was always the moment when excitement over took them. For Gwen the feeling of being filled to the brim and for Arthur the feeling of being buried in wet heat was a sensation all too rich and intoxicating to have been 'handled maturely' by their younger selves.
"Maybe we should pay the dungeons a visit some time?" Arthur suggested, withdrawing slowly. He swiftly slid back in, inducing an "ah" from both of them. "Relive old times."
They both grinned.
Gwen curled her leg around his waist and tugged him in deeper with his next thrust. "That sounds like a very good idea."