Merlin lets himself be manhandled.
Gives in to it.
Let's Percival grab him from behind and draw him up against his broad muscled chest and tilts his head to the side to offer his flushed skin to Percival's rough wet kisses. He doesn't protest at all when Leon yanks his head back by the hair and takes his mouth in a bruising kiss. He just groans into it and parts his lips for the assault. Merlin lets his want show in the desperate whine that escapes him when Gwaine swaps with Percival and rubs his rough stubble over the tender skin of Merlin's neck and he makes his need known in the jerk of his hips when Elyan's slick fingers find his hole.
Merlin loves every moment. Lets it happen. Revels in it.
And keeps his eyes on Arthur.