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“We simply cannot have blue hangings, not at a Lammas feast —”
“— and risk offending the Druids, so soon after making peace with them? It is essential that…”
Arthur sighs and looks around the council chambers, his mind wandering. Though the matter of welcoming the Druids was close to his heart, discussing the intricacies of wall-hanging colours made for a tedious council session. He scans the room, thinking of riding to the forest stream once the meeting is over, when a flicker of movement catches his attention.
Arthur hazards a glance at the wall to his right: towards the mirror, innocuously tucked away in the gloom behind the row of stone pillars that line one side of the council chambers.
He is reflected in the mirror, but not as he sat now, tight-lipped and regal. In the shadowed reflection, his mouth is open in silent pants as he bends Merlin over the council table and feeds his cock into him. Arthur shifts in his seat, his cloak suddenly too itchy and heavy, and shoots a glance at Merlin. Unsurprisingly, Merlin is already looking at him sidelong, his lips curled in the faintest smile.
More movement in his periphery draws Arthur’s attention again, and he tightens his grip on the arms of his chair until his knuckles whiten. Merlin’s mirror-self is now flat against the table, body juddering with every thrust Arthur ploughs into him. His eyes are open, boring into Arthur’s, the Court Sorcerer’s silver circlet slipping off his head and onto the table. More images flash by, and Arthur grips the arms of his chair so hard, his fingers ache.
Then, a sight that makes Arthur’s breath stutter. Merlin, eyes golden, gripping Arthur’s hips as he lays him back on the table and pushes into him. Merlin, grinning wolfishly as a golden tendril of magic snakes its way to Arthur’s open and willing entrance, slithering in alongside Merlin’s cock as mirror-Arthur gives a silent shout. Merlin, using his magic to fuck Arthur.
Before Arthur even registers it, he’s standing, everyone else immediately scrambling to follow suit. “I think that’s enough for today. The council is dismissed - not you, Merlin, stay here. There are some matters we need to discuss.”
The corner of Merlin’s mouth twitches. “Of course, Sire.”
***
“Ah, yes, right there - fuck, Merlin!”
Merlin smirks as he thrusts into Arthur again. “So, which one was it this time?” Merlin asks. “The one of you fucking me over the table -” he snaps his hips and presses his mouth to Arthur’s neck, sucking hard on the sensitive spot just below Arthur’s jaw, “or the one of me riding you?”
Arthur lets his head fall back against the table as Merlin sucks a bite into his skin. “Neither. I want you, all of you - ah!” He shudders as Merlin wraps a hand around his weeping cock, thumbing at the precome beading at the head as he fucks into Arthur. “Want your magic inside me.”
“Gods, Arthur,” Merlin closes his eyes, his expression almost pained, so great is the pleasure. “You have no idea how badly I want that.”
His eyes flash gold and suddenly they’re in front of the mirror, Merlin pressing back into Arthur and setting a punishing pace. Arthur whines at the new angle, the drag of Merlin’s cock inside him. He relishes it to the point where he almost misses Merlin’s muttered spell, his breath catching as a golden tendril of magic flares into life, sinuous and searching. It probes at his hole, gently at first, then more persistently. Arthur’s breath fogs the surface of the mirror as he pants against it, chest heaving as the magic, Merlin’s magic, finally breaches him. Arthur stares at his reflection with glassy eyes: his flushed cheeks, his weeping cock, the mark of Merlin’s teeth on his neck.
Merlin’s watching him as well, eyes dark and hungry. “Gods, look at you, Arthur. The King of Camelot, taking my magic like you were born for it. You don’t know - fuck -” Merlin swears as his hips stutter. “You don’t know half of what I want to do to you.”
Arthur moans at the words, taking in his spread legs, his flushed cock that bounces with every harsh thrust Merlin presses into his open and willing body. Watching himself be so exposed, so bare and powerless and being used by Merlin, stokes the spark tugging at his core. He turns his head to suckle on Merlin’s earlobe.
“Show me.”
Merlin grips his chin and forces his head to turn back to the mirror. The room is silent, save for their gasps and groans as they wind tighter, closer to the centre of their heady need. Finally, as Merlin’s cock stiffens inside him, he whispers, voice low and shaky in Arthur’s ear:
“
Forbearnan
.”
Merlin’s eyes flash gold, his hand wraps around Arthur’s throat, and suddenly a white-hot tongue of heat skates down Arthur’s chest, licks up inside him and against the spot that Merlin’s cockhead is hammering against, and Arthur is coming harder than he ever has in his life, spurts of come shooting up his chest, across his collarbones. His gaze drifts back towards the mirror, watching Merlin watch him, his mouth open and gasping against Arthur’s exposed neck.
Merlin groans as he comes, golden tendrils pulsing as his magic surges and floods through Arthur’s body, claiming him as if it were its first and only chance. Arthur whines at the thought, his cock twitching valiantly as wet heat shoots inside him. It isn’t as intense as the magical heat, but feels more raw.
Merlin grins, hooking his chin over Arthur’s shoulder. “Now there’s an image that won’t be leaving my head for a while.”
“Good,” Arthur says, voice cracking as the last pulse of Merlin’s come shoots inside him. “As long as it stays in your head.” Even as he says it, Arthur knows it’s a lost cause.
Merlin’s slow, sly grin is answer enough.