Work Text:
"It's snowing," Nimue announces entering his chambers in the castle, smiling cheerfully.
Lancelot gets up from bed after a tiring day's work, his rough hands for the sword fights he had with Arthur and Gawain, He goes to the window and then to his wife, kisses her and caresses her on his shoulders and looks at her with her blue eyes rebuking the amusing look in his wife's crystalline eyes, thinking she was the cause of the storm. "It's really snowing."
Out there, a real gale began without them noticing, taking great gasps of white powder and ice through the forest, quickly hiding the path. The castle gardens must be buried with the intensity of the snow.
The door opens and Gawain enters the room, but quickly comes out again, but Nimue stops him.
"You may enter, Gawain"
"I'll be back tomorrow morning, I see you're ready for bed"
"Could you spend the night with us?" Nimue offers, expecting him to accept, going towards Gawain and holding his hands pulling him into the Room.
With his heart beating hard in his ears, Gawain casts a guilty look at Lancelot, but is surprised by the look on the other man's face, Lancelot has a look, that look, the one he uses when they're having a playful fight with Percival that makes Gawain wonder if he'll be devoured. He feels like he can catch fire under the heat of that look.
"I... I could sleep on the couch," Gawain offers, pointing to the couch across the room.
"Don't be silly," Nimue replies, disapproving in his tone.
Lancelot approaches his wife who's holding hands with his friend and pulls him close to the bed. "It's going to get cold here soon," he agrees. "There's no reason for you to freeze, Gawain."
Trapped, Gawain heads to Nimue, begging for help.
Instead, she smiles, gentle as ever, and says, "We don't take no for an answer. You'll sleep here."
Somehow Gawain ends up with his loose shirt, feeling naked and quite anxious. Nimue's nightgown is practically transparent, and Lancelot is already without his shirt.
It's as if these two specimens are trying to condemn him to hell.
Gawain says to himself vehemently that it's just tonight, they're just going to sleep, they're just friends.
He moves to lie on the edge of the bed, but Lancelot puts an end to it quickly, pushes him to keep the brunette between him and his wife.
"That's my side," jokes Lancelot, not to mention agreeing with his wife's miraculous idea. His lazy smile makes something burn under Gawain's ribs of desire.
Nimue pulls the heavy bedspreads over them and snuggles up beside Gawain, with his head on his shoulder, as when they were children, Gawain thinks about how this girl has grown into this beautiful woman at his side.
Nimue sighs as if this is exactly what she needed after the exhausting day at the council. She is complete with the two most important men in her life. Her husband and the man who in her youthful years made her have a huge passion for him.
Gawain feels a fire in his being, if his two friends make any movement, he is sure that this movement will be the drop of water that will take him to the Hidden and he will never be able to look at these two again, Gawain swallows dry and stays perfectly still, concentrating on not imagining things that do not exist and keeping his impulses under control.
It's hard to keep his breathing steady. He hears his pulse in his ears and feels the heat in his face and chest. He can feel the softness of Nimue's breasts and the stiffness of Lancelot's chest pressed against his arm, and he is afraid to do or say something wrong and spoil the magic of that moment. He has been waiting for years to have a chance with the real couple, but he is afraid of being wrong about their intentions.
As long as he doesn't break the spell, everything will be fine.
No matter what happens in the cozy darkness of his dearest friends' rooms, Gawain can pretend that this was a wonderful dream, that in his thoughts he knows that this powerful couple would never have let him touch them in a sinful way at a normal moment.
He may belong to the witch and her best knight for one night, if that is what they want. (Certainly that is what he wants, but he would never be able to admit it, not to be killed by the Hidden).
Tension and anticipation are singing in the air as Gawain looks up at the ceiling of the most beautiful room in the castle, controlling himself to breathe calmly, his breath pressing against his skin and lungs like a palpable touch, cunning fingers caressing the nerves and pulling the tense strings of his resolve.
There is a silent conversation going on in his chest, Nimue's eyes on Lancelot's face, which had these marks that make him part of a clan that no longer exists and Gawain was surprised when he felt Lancelot's nose pressed on his chin. He shudders at this closeness, but Lancelot lets out a little laugh with his friend's reaction.
Nimue, being the most shameless of the three in the room, extends her hand a little further on Gawain's chest, trying to calm him down, but ends up making him more excited, and starts to draw circular patterns on his skin. She gives a soft kiss on her shoulder which is closer to her as a gesture of promise.
Lancelot runs her nose to Gawain's temple, whispering against her cheek. His fingers are entwined in Gawain's free hand being held by the woman on the other side of the bed, the warmth of these two bodies on his side distracting him. "Say yes or no, Gawain," he says, looking at the green knight as if he wanted to ...
With his heart in his throat, Gawain exhales trembling and whispers, "Yes," desperate for whatever comes next.
Smiling once, sharp, bright and satisfied, Lancelot leans over him and kisses Gawain so hard, so hard, that he chokes. Nimue lets out a little laugh, quiet and affectionate, and takes Lancelot from the green knight so that he can delight himself with his friend. With his tongue he mothes Gawain's lips.
He falls on his side, his hair messy with movement, and directs a diabolical smile at his wife, causing her to be the first.
Frightened and excited, Gawain barely had a moment to think before Nimue pulled him into a much softer, yet firmer kiss, and he delights in the lips of the most important friend in his life.
She traces her hand up to his neck, testing his wrist.
Lancelot, who is tired of being ignored, takes Gawain's shirt and skillfully unties it and takes it from his sculpted body for years of training. He presses an open kiss on the hard muscle, scraping his teeth as if thinking of biting Gawain while Nimue deepens the kiss with the Green Knight.
Gawain shakes, his mouth opening silently, and casts a glance between the two. He can barely hear his own thoughts, is overwhelmed by relief and hope and this feeling of contortion in his bones. Stealing, he says, "That means... You...?"
He swallows dry, his heart beating hard in his chest, and Nimue approaches his mouth to Gawain's ear and whispers, with his eyes shining maliciously, "This is where you should be, right here, from the beginning."
(Gawain tries to control himself so that he doesn't cry, but he feels that the animal inside him is wanting to come out, and in his chest there is noise growing, something that is finally free to flourish.
Lancelot leans down to kiss his forehead tenderly, as if he agrees, and then descends these little kisses towards his navel, paying attention to the tight lines on the blacksmith's torso. Nimue runs her fingers through her husband's hair, meditatively, and looks at Gawain, observing the series of emotions passing through his face.
As if they combined what they would do, Nimue captures Gawain's lips with a passionate kiss at the same moment that Lancelot bites the other man on his stomach, close to his hip.
Gawain's half- swallowed groan vibrates in the Queen's mouth, her tongue passing through her teeth.
Gawain gets lost in the touches that the royal couple are making to him, each time breathless when they stop and kiss. They're standing now, Gawain among them with Nimue on his lap and Lancelot's knees holding his hips.
Nimue takes advantage of their position, shakes his hip at the erection that is forming in Gawain and he shakes with the friction in his pants, and almost falls with the heat of Lancelot's body pressed against his back, keeping him standing with a possessive arm around his waist.
"We want you to stay with us, forever," Nimue tells him, his eyes fixed on his rider.
"Be ours," adds Lancelot, eagerly inhaling the perfume that made him hunt for the green knight when he was still part of the paladins years ago, his nose pressed against the curve of his neck, "for the rest of our lives."
"The Feys won't like it." Gawain begins, unable to continue his thought of protest. "He fucks off," says Lancelot as he rolls his hips forward and Nimue swings at his erection again, and Gawain forgets what he was saying, hissing a suffocated "god."
Nimue leans over the knight's shoulder to steal a hungry kiss from his king, squeezing Gawain between the royal couple, in his kiss Lancelot snarls softly, the sound swinging from his chest to Gawain's back. His hips contract, pressing his tense length against Gawain's butt, and this triggers a huge but confusing pleasure in the man's stomach.
He shouldn't like that, not at all, especially on Nimue's part in that, he saw her as a sister, but in the last few years he discovered that the little girl he imagined as his little sister, had become a wonderful woman and was deep down in love with her, No, with both of them. You're wrong. It's wrong, they're the real couple of the Feys, but he's absolutely hungry for more, for every bit of them they're willing to give.
He wants the lady of the lake's soft mouth and her hot channel, the sharp teeth and the hard stick of the gray man. He wants to be ruined by them, to be destroyed and consumed.
"Gawain," whispers Nimue, urgently. She lies down wrapping the bar of her shirt and lifting it up so that her two men can have access. Lancelot pushes them forward, passing his hand over Gawain's chest, guiding him to touch his wife's breasts, and begins to trace the contracted muscles of the inner thighs.
With his chest almost gasping, Gawain leans forward and kisses her hard. He can finally have that, and no one can tell him he's wrong. He leans back as Lancelot pulls down his pants, and helps him take them off impatiently, then Lancelot presses them on Nimue, sliding his fingers into her mouth to lick and suck.
Lancelot moves his wet fingers at Gawain's entrance, massaging the tight circle until he relaxes slightly, enough to fit a finger.
Gawain moans, flexing his back as he tries to adjust to the strange sensation.
Nimue extends her hand, pulling her cheek to distract him in a warm kiss, bending seriously against him. Her hand guides one of his hands between his thighs to his humid canal, and he swears again in his mouth, seeing stars as Lancelot inserts a second finger, pushing deeper.
He follows suit, provoking his queen's folds as she twists beneath him, in search of friction. She moans, tilting her hips to a better angle.
Over his shoulder, Lancelot's breathing is losing uniformity, his composure beginning to slip. He crosses his fingers, three of them now, his free hand entangled with that of his wife, rising only with the strength of his thighs and torso.
Gawain cries out in surprise at the explosion of pleasure, bowing back, his jaw loose. Her own fingers contract, stretching the Nimue channel more widely, so she makes a loud, breathless noise.
Lancelot smiles at the other man's shoulder skin, leaning over to kiss his wife with his teeth and tongue, putting pressure on the rider between them and working Gawain's ideal spot.
The lady of the Lake bows down, breathing heavily, and says, "Now," as if she would break them if they disobeyed. Her legs are trembling, her chest gasping.
Shivering with pleasure Gawain allows his monarchs to guide him, Lancelot's hands carrying his manhood, that the king was giving pleasure, going up and down, until the head of his painfully swollen erection is supported at Nimue's entrance. He is careful to go slowly, feeling it tight around him, listening to Lancelot's quick breath and with the pleasurable expression that his companions have on their faces.
On his back, Lancelot kisses Gawain's neck, using one hand to line up and then pushing forward with great attention, watching the muscles of the other man's back, the inclination of his shoulders, in search of any undue discomfort.
Nimue holds her husband's other hand tightly when Gawain rests.
And then, carefully, a growling in his chest, Lancelot rolls his hips forward, the movement forcing Gawain deeper into his wife.
Gawain's fingers flattened on the mattress, his arms trembling as he tried to keep his thought conscious, to put in order the flood of sensations he was feeling. The queen uses her free hand to guide his mouth to hers, kissing his persistent apprehension so that all he feels is pure pleasure, flooding him on all sides, burning in his lungs and burning his intestines hot and consuming.
Slowly, Lancelot builds a steady rhythm, working them in increments until he is practically beating Gawain, pushing him forward so hard that Nimue gasps at each movement.
Gawain's hand slips on the sheets, his forehead drips with sweat, but he doesn't ask to stop. This sensation is higher than any he's ever had, flooding his senses and then leaving them naked in violent waves. Nimue is squeezing around him, squeezing his cock, and Lancelot is reaching that point, whatever it is, and he is being kissed on both sides and there are hands tracing his skin everywhere. "Lancelot" the Queen moans her husband's name, and he slowly tilts them so he can kiss her, and his fingernails are nailing into Gawain's belly, as he rolls his hips much more languidly, as if they have all the time in the world to take it off.
The movement sends another orgasm with her contorted face of pleasure, the queen is complete. Lancelot kisses her again, not far away if the curses he is snarling are any indication, and she caresses the other man's face, waving, and she says, "Gawain," as if she wants to drag him into the ocean with her sweet voice.
Gawain trembles, bowing his torso with Lancelot's movements, his head hanging between his shoulders.He can no longer.
He can no longer.
Lancelot, a thick, low voice with something dangerous, whispers, lips rubbing the ear of his man "Come to me, Gawain, fill my wife with your hot seed" as a provocation as he swings one last time, a low groaning buzzing around his words.
Gawain, the sight turning white, sees stars, shouting something that sounds like a hiccup, the noise coming from inside. His stomach contracts, pouring into Nimue, and the ash man is doing the same in him, and his muscles contract, and his bones seem liquid, and the world spins and spins and spins.
The couple are careful in withdrawing after their climax, nesting the knight between them, with his head on Nimue's chest and Lancelot's arm wrapped protectively around the two. They kiss sweetly over their head and then Nimue kisses their almost black brown hair. He naps in the warmth of their embrace, plunging so immediately into the darkness of a dreamless sleep that he has to struggle to wake up in the morning.
The abyss, it seems, was not frightening, but promising.
Gawain becomes their second husband, he does what they ask, moving into their chambers, staying and never leaving, the Feys are strange at first, but they get used to it, Percival being the first to accept that their three parental figures love each other more than anything. Merlin who had made a bet with Pym that when the three of them would assume they loved each other for years, the queen's best friend is very happy for her friends. Soon the Queen discovers that she is waiting and her kingdom becomes happier with the news of a royal heir. Her world is bright.
Then it turns out that the witch and her Feys knights have their well-deserved rest.