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These past few days have been the hardest Elyan has ever had to face. The subtle power struggles of court and strange tension in the ranks of the Knights was new and trying in a way he’d never experienced before. His King was brittle and lost, lashing out at Merlin and working his men to the ground to cover his, their, loss. Gwen was gone, banished for her strange and unlikely behaviour, and the goodbye had been almost too much for Elyan to bear. He’d fallen into Arthur’s ruthless new training regime with enough fervor to work himself nearly to ruin. So it was only a matter of time before he pushed himself too far and that was how he found himself here, in a stone room designed to hold in steam and heat, fresh from a bath and laying flat on his stomach on a layered leather covered wooden bench with only a thin sheet to keep his modesty.
The room lay below ground and thus far from the noise of the castle and traffic. Once, long ago, it was used by the court butcher for surgery. Butcher, because the man who would put sick and wounded men in this dark, humid space did not deserve the title physician. Now it had a new purpose as the quiet, the heat, opulent bath, and the soothingly dim lighting provided a measure of relaxation for the body and eased the mind. It was a rather ingenious use of the old space and Gaius’s idea. The smell of cloves and camphor oil was thick in the air, it was sweet but still stung his nose and candles lit the darker corners of the room. Elyan was lucky he hadn’t torn any ligaments in the last practice session but he was still careless enough to find himself here and banished from the field until he could swing his sword again without wincing. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself now. He couldn’t train, couldn’t smith, he could only think and his mind conjured terrifying imaginings of his sister’s fate and his own future prospects.
Elyan was so caught up in his own whirling thoughts that he was almost completely unprepared for the sudden firm pressure on his back, pinning him down onto the bench. He would have seriously hurt his attacker if it weren’t for the fact that the hands felt so familiar, his shoulder ached, and the pressure was far too powerful for him to fight against. After a moment the fight or flight tension left his body with a long, shuddering breath and the hands were removed.
“Percy?”
There was no response but the smell of camphor and cloves grew stronger and firm hands carefully began to work the oil into his stressed, and overly sore back. When he could feel the oil thick and hot against his skin the hands gently worked his shoulders and neck until the muscles there unwound and melted under the firm grip. The heat soon left to be replaced by a strange cooling feeling that eased the ache. The hot and cold feeling was a special effect of the oil that made it useful for treating horses with injured muscles and, thanks to Gaius’s modifications, injured men as it could burn the skin if improperly handled. The relief it brought was unimaginable and so Elyan said nothing just watched, with half closed eyes, as Percy set the bronze flask down next to him and began to work on his shoulder blades and lower back while wearing nothing but his braies. You’d have to be mad to wear wool or leather in this room so he understood the necessity but that didn’t make the sight any less distracting for him. Elyan took another relaxing breath, ignored that train of thought, and was almost pathetically grateful for Percy’s unexpected generosity. His hands were big and calloused, but unexpectedly gentle as they mercilessly worked the tension out of his body. Going so far as to push the sheet up his legs to reach his thighs, calves, and even his feet.
Elyan lay dazed on the bench, totally relaxed for the first time in days, injured arm hanging off the bench, and just watched as Percy washed his hands at the basin across the room. Sweat ran down the planes of his back and his braies clung damply to his thighs and buttocks, it was a gloriously distracting sight and Elyan was very, very glad the room was dim and that they weren’t facing one another. There were things he wanted, unnatural desires, that snuck into his thoughts at times like these. Watching the the way candlelight flickered over Percy’s damp skin and the flex of his forearms as he wrung out a rag in another, smaller, basin was mesmerizing. He abruptly looked away and shifted in embarrassment against the bench only to have his breath catch at the feel of the sweat dampened leather sliding against his cock and belly. His face burned in embarrassment and he knew that the apple red flush of shame on his cheekbones would be clearly visible even against the rich cocoa of his skin. He managed to get a hold of himself just as Percy turned around and walked back with the basin and another metal flask of some sort.
“Relax.” He said.
Elyan took another breath and tried to, hid his face against the makeshift pile of cloth he was using as a pillow. The cloth was damp and soothing even as trickles of hot water slid along his sides and burned his skin a bit while the camphor oil was rubbed off from neck to toes. A slight breeze made its way into the room and he shivered slightly as it licked along his skin. He simultaneously hoped they were done even as he regretted the thought and sparks of adrenaline ran through his limbs. They weren’t done yet though.
Percy’s hands smoothed down his spine in firm strokes using the moisturizing oil Elyan preferred when his skin began to dry and turn ashy. He was careful of the injured shoulder but relentless on the rest of his body, gripped and massaged him into a dazed mess on the bench. He was so far gone in his sleepy contentment that it hadn’t registered exactly how high on his thighs Percival was working until the damp sheet on his hips was removed and those hot hands stroked solidly over his buttocks, kneaded into the muscles of his lower back, and tore a shocked groan of pleasure from the back of his throat. Elyan felt he should say something, but was afraid of what his voice would sound like, what it would give away.
Percival kept stroking, grasped at the meat of his thighs and ass in a way that was amazingly relaxing, utterly terrifying, and so very good. Elyan knew that sometimes, secretly, men would have relations together. That even knights and soldiers would partake of the comforting hand of a shield brother should circumstances require it but this was different, he was different. Even when a sweet smelling woman was about, flaunting an ample bosom or throaty laugh at feasts, Elyan kept finding his eye drawn instead to men’s sculpted bodies and flexing muscle. It was unnatural, and possibly even a betrayal of the comfort that men can find with one another, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes wandered or how his body would react at the most inopportune times. It’s only gotten worse since he joined the Knights of Camelot and began lusting after his fellows, even his best friend. Especially his best friend.
He was hard now and there was no way to for him to hide it without the sheet. He shifted uncomfortably against the leather, his face hot, as Percival added more oil to his lower back and worked it down. Even stroked it between his legs for a breathless moment before resuming that amazingly relaxing kneading on his thighs. Another breathless sound escaped him against his will and just when he thought things couldn’t get anymore confusing Percival leaned down and gently breathed into his ear in a dark, heavy tone he’d never heard before.
“I’m going to give you a hand. Relax.”
Then those oil slick hands were spreading him open and stroking at the tender flesh between his cheeks, dribbling it there until Elyan felt it pool on the leather underneath him. Still unbearably gentle Percival stroked at flesh there, worked his palm over the clenching pucker and down to cup his balls. Maybe it was the almost euphoric release of tension, the lighting, the heat, or even the oil that caused him to whine in an embarrassingly needy manner. Either way there was no mistaking the timid heat behind it and Percival paused just long enough for Elyan to wish he were dead. Damn his twisted desires!
Then, as if nothing happened, he continued. Palmed his ass with one hand and carefully circled the tender flesh around his entrance with the other. Teased at it and fed it oil with his fingertips until Elyan’s ragged, confused breathing started to fall into a sort of rhythm. He didn’t know why Percival was doing this, what had brought it on, he’d kept a careful distance between them so as not to give himself away. Apparently he’d not been as successful as he’d thought. Percival’s thumb circled again before slowly pressing in until it was engulfed in the wet heat of his body. Elyan jerked and gasped at the intrusion, tried to resist the urge to raise his hips up into it and failed miserably. This was different, more than just a “helping hand” and they both knew it, but he couldn’t bear to say anything in case Percival stopped.
It wasn’t until the thumb was replaced two long finger that he realized there was only one way this was going to end and that was with Elyan a soppy, wet mess on the bench. He was already clinging to the edge of it as greedy fingers worked at at his prostate, pulled embarrassingly obscene sounds from him. He shook and shivered as Percival rubbed soothing circles on his back and relentlessly pistoned his fingers against that sweet spot until the rough tension snapped and he cried out as his cock jerked and spilled underneath him.
If it weren’t for Percival’s own uneven breathing Elyan would have thought he was unaffected as it was he was so quiet, and still working those gloriously thick fingers inside him. He groaned as they shifted, whined when they began to work him at a different, deeper, angle. Then he was using three fingers and Elyna was gasping out his name, desperate to understand what was happening and far too gone to stop it.
“Percy..? Ohgod... Percy!”
The stretch and burn was hotter this time and his cock was still hard with interest, tender as it twitched against the leather. Unable to help himself Elyan shifted until he was on his knees, one hand still clutched the edge of the bench while the other grasped at the leg of it, his head sideways on the pillow and unable to resist looking back at Percival. Percival, who was looking as if he didn’t know what to do with himself. Looking as if Elyan was something amazing, something to be desired, and he couldn’t help but put his hands on it.
“Percival!”
His name was a sharp cry and the next thing Elyan knew the fingers were gone, replaced by the blunt, wet tip of his cock and it was exactly what he was too afraid to want for himself. He arched, bit his lip to keep from begging for it, and couldn’t help but keen a bit when he finally got it. Percival kneeling behind him, spearing him open as those big hands moved his hips in small circles. Elyan could feel himself ripple and contract on his rigid girth. His body too relaxed, his muscles too loose to feel anything but the sharp, hot pleasure of it. Hesitantly he moved in encouragement and Percival responded with a sharp inhalation of happy surprise. He briefly wondered if his giant of a friend had issues with previous partners. Then Percival was moving properly and Elyan wasn’t thinking at all anymore.
Snapping hips and clutching fingers were all he could focus on as he panted heavily against the bench. His abs were wet with his pleasure and he could feel it as his ass clenched and contracted on Percy’s cock in needy pulls. He couldn’t breath, it felt too good and he couldn’t breath until one of those slick hands wrapped around his dick and frantically jerked him to release and he bit and screamed hoarsely into the cloth. Then Percy was apologizing profusely as he pounded into him, almost savagely, until Elyan felt hot inside with his release and was almost immediately crushed by his weight.
After he carefully pulled out Percival collapsed onto the ground next to the bench, gasping like a dying man and staring up at him with and a fucked-out expression on his face. Elyan imagined he must have had a similar expression on his face as he lay there, thighs and belly slippery with seed. The room was silent save for their heavy breathing for a moment before it was broken by a red faced Percival who stuttered out an apology for his forceful behaviour. Elyan too wrung out to do move or think properly just gripped him by the back of his neck with his good arm and pulled him up for a kiss, damn the consequences. Percival response was immediate and ferociously hungry to Elyan’s surprise and the consequences? Severe, but pleasurably so.