Title: A Lesson in Dynamics: Merlin's Re-education
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Edwin/Gaius/Uther/Merlin/Arthur
Warnings: Non-con, incestuous undertones, PWP, AU take on ep 6
Spoilers: for episode 6 'A Remedy To Cure All Ills'
Summary: I think the pairing says it all, really.
A/N: I'd just like to get one thing straight before we start: this is all wickednotevil 's fault. She provoked me; we have since learnt that this is a bad, bad idea that can only end in madness, MADNESS I SAY! And once this got into my head, well, I was determined not to suffer alone!
*runs away and weeps in a corner*

 

A Lesson in Dynamics: Merlin’s Re-education

 

Merlin kneels over Uther on the bed, the thick, sumptuous sheets giving softly beneath his knees. His blood races as he leans down and lays his long-fingered hands on Uther’s face, body thrilling with illicit magic. Merlin takes a deep breath, cursing softly; aware of Gaius’ comforting presence at his back he begins, the words falling from his tongue, power spilling resonant from his lips.

 He’s so intently focussed on his task that at first he doesn’t notice when Uther’s eyes open.  He does notice, however, when Uther’s hand clamps vice-like round his wrist. Merlin’s mind goes utterly blank, his magic trickling instantly from his grasp as Uther stares at him, cold-eyed and intense, until finally his mouth curls upwards in a vicious sneer and the moment breaks. Regaining control of himself, Merlin tries to bolt – it is, he thinks, a little late for simple denials; Uther is faster.  

Before he knows what’s happening Merlin finds himself pinned on the bed, hands trapped above his head in an iron grip as Uther’s weight presses him down.

‘Uh, I – we... that is- I can explain!’ he babbles desperately, eyes darting frantically around for an escape route.

‘Oh can you now?’ Uther asks, voice low and dangerous. There’s an odd light in his eyes that just might be murder.

‘Oh, absolutely!’ Merlin nods emphatically. ‘You see...erm...Gaius?’ He casts around in search of his mentor for some help, voice cracking on the last syllable.

‘Calm down, Merlin,’ Gaius murmurs soothingly as he appears at the bed-side by Merlin’s head. He smiles strangely. ‘Everything’s going to be alright.’

‘Yes, yes it will!’ Merlin agrees, forcing his most dazzling lopsided smile onto his face. ‘Because we didn’t do anything wrong, you see... er, Gaius?’ The grin melts into a look of utter confusion, in turn giving way to a kind of detached horror as Gaius trails one careful forefinger down the side of his exposed wrist, his other hand tenderly brushing Merlin’s hair back from his forehead and moving to stroke his cheek.

Merlin swallows and is profoundly disturbed to note Uther’s eyes following the movement, that vicious grin looking more than a little wicked, and that light in his eyes, oh, that is definitely not murder. Merlin makes an entirely involuntary high-pitched noise in the back of his throat, screwing his eyes shut and praying to God that this is just an extremely twisted dream.  He has almost convinced himself that someone has slipped him some sort of bizarre hallucinogenic when he feels Uther flex his surprisingly muscular body against him and oh god he does not want to think about what that bulge might be.

‘No,’ he begins, eyes wide and fearful, ‘no, you don’t want to do this, really you don’t, trust me. Really, this- it’s Edwin! It’s the magic – it’s all the beetles’ fault!’ he exclaims, seizing on a sudden idea. ‘That’s all, so just let me go and then we’ll –‘

‘Silence!’ Uther commands, an odd purr in his voice. He pulls back for a moment and glances up at Gaius, who immediately grabs Merlin’s wrists, freeing up Uther’s hands to be put to better uses. He slips one cool hand up under Merlin’s shirt and the young warlock shivers at the sensation of Uther’s signet ring, scraping cold and heavy against his skin. Before he can protest, Uther buries his free hand in Merlin’s hair, yanks his head back and kisses him, his mouth moving hungrily on Merlin’s own, tongue shoving roughly past Merlin’s lips. Merlin tries to struggle, choking out a groan, but Gaius is holding him down, watching intently. Panicking now he bites at Uther’s lip, drawing blood; the king eases away and backhands him casually across the face before stroking a callused finger over Merlin’s lips.

‘Naughty boy,’ he smirks, ‘you should learn to obey your superiors.’ He moves in so close that Merlin can feel his breath hot on his neck. ‘Does Arthur allow such impertinence from you when you’re together like this?’ he asks and grinds his erection into Merlin’s hip.

Merlin thinks he might have passed out, just for a moment; it is then, of course, that Edwin appears, removing his cloak with a flourish as he slinks through the doorway and letting it fall to pool on the cold stone of the chamber’s floor. Merlin can do nothing but stare at the man he last saw lying in a pool of his own blood with an axe in his head, an axe that Merlin had put there himself. Gaius and Uther don’t even seem mildly shocked; Uther gives Edwin a companionable nod.

‘This can’t be real,’ Merlin whispers thickly through swollen lips. Edwin smiles beatifically.

‘But Merlin, why are you so surprised?’ he asks lightly. ‘You didn’t really think you could kill me so easily did you? I’ve been practising my art for my entire life – I have been trained. Your power is impressive, wild, untamed,’ he says with suggestive relish, ‘but ultimately lacking in fine control. It was a matter of no consequence to deceive you with a simple spell that would have been obvious to an experienced practitioner such as Gaius.’

‘Gaius?’ Merlin can barely form the words through the shock and confusion pounding in his head. He twists to look up at his trusted mentor. ‘You – you knew? But that- you... that can’t be true. Please,’ he begs, ‘please tell me he’s lying.  Tell me he’s lying and let me go and-’

Gaius cuts off Merlin’s babbling with a solemn shake of his head. ‘I’m sorry Merlin,’ he says, ‘but you have to learn; this is the way things are.’ Merlin swallows audibly and turns back to pin his last drowning hope on Uther. ‘He’s a sorcerer!’ he points out helpfully. ‘You hate magic – it’s evil, that’s what you’re always saying, right? You think anyone who uses it should die!’

‘And of course that is the image I must maintain in public,’ Uther replies smoothly, shifting his weight where he’s straddling Merlin, grinding down against him in the process. ‘I simply cannot allow the use of sorcery to spread unchecked amongst the populace, but behind closed doors, properly monitored, it is a valuable asset for a king.’ His voice turns low and suggestive. ‘ Gaius has been aiding me as more than a physician for years. And as for Edwin, well,’ Uther grins at the scarred sorcerer, ‘once Gaius discovered his true identity it was clear that he could be a very valuable asset indeed.’

The king rises, giving Merlin some much-needed space, and for a moment the young warlock harbours a spark of hope, but Gaius’ hands are like iron on his wrists and it’s clear he’s not going anywhere; all he can do is watch as Uther moves over to Edwin and begins undressing him, still in mid-explanation.

‘I made Edwin an offer,’ he murmurs, sliding the sorcerer’s shirt over his head. He allows himself an indulgent smile. ‘It was a very good one.’ He glances briefly back at Merlin. ‘You were part of it.’

Edwin chuckles, tilting his head back as Uther mouths at his throat, hands busy at the tie holding the king’s bed-robe closed. ‘It was a hard decision, but the rewards were worth it.’ He locks gazes with Merlin as he slides the king’s robe from his shoulders, leaving Uther naked in the dimly lit chamber, the candlelight gilding the network of old battle scars working their way across his strong back. ‘More than worth it,’ Edwin whispers as he runs his hands over broad shoulders and turns his head into Uther’s kiss.

Edwin’s belt drops to the floor with a clang, followed shortly by his trousers and underclothes. He toes off his shoes and steps out of the pile of clothing, never breaking contact with Uther’s lips as they devour each other, warring for dominance. Uther has one hand on Edwin’s face, fingers stroking over his scars. He nips at Edwin’s lip and pulls away to follow the path of his fingers with his tongue, licking across the raised flesh. Edwin closes his eyes and shudders, runs his nails down Uther’s torso. They press close together, groaning in tandem at the friction as their cocks grind against each other.

Gaius’ breath catches as he watches them, so caught up that he doesn’t notice as his hold on Merlin starts to slip. Merlin seizes the opportunity, twisting out of his grip with a surprising flexibility, and raises one hand, the words of a hasty spell bubbling to his lips. Edwin looks up over Uther’s shoulder and gestures lazily, dropping a single curt syllable into the taut atmosphere of the room and Merlin goes rigid, unable to move, unable to speak. He can feel the magic trapped behind his eyes and on the tip of his tongue, bursting for release, but he can’t give it form.

Edwin moves over to the bed. ‘There’s no call for that, Merlin,’ he says with an expression of mock hurt.

Paralysed, Merlin can do nothing but glare at him with frustrated bewilderment; even so Edwin reads the question in his eyes. He smiles.

‘You forget – you are still so... inexperienced.’ Uther chuckles at this, and it is not a nice sound. Edwin nods at him conspiratorially. ‘We’ll change that for you,’ he promises and steps forward, leaning down over Merlin, pressing one hand over his mouth. His lip quirks, savouring the moment, and then he speaks.

Merlin feels the weight of Edwin’s voice slithering over his skin and he arches, gasping, helpless against the exhilarated power igniting suddenly in his veins. The incantation is like a thing alive, rich, thick syllables caressing him, slipping through him, rousing him to ecstasy. Merlin’s eyes are so busy trying to roll back into his head that he barely even notices Gaius when he appears at the other side of the bed and begins stripping him. His mentor’s hands glide teasingly over the smooth flesh of his stomach and Merlin bites back a groan at the unnaturally heightened sensation, the muscles of his abdomen tightening.

Edwin strokes his cheek with the back of his hand as Gaius removes his trousers. ‘Tell me what you want,’ he whispers. Merlin’s eyes flutter shut as he arches, turning his face away.

‘Arthur!’ he moans throatily.

Edwin smiles. ‘What would you do,’ he asks, ‘if the prince were here?’ He runs his tongue along Merlin’s jaw. ‘What if he were watching?’ He reaches down and takes hold of Merlin’s cock, fully exposed to the cool but quickly heating air, and squeezes lightly as Merlin shouts and thrusts up into his hand. ‘What if he could see you like this?’ he hisses into Merlin’s ear before he slips his tongue into his mouth, tasting his own magic on the warlock’s breath. Edwin’s touch is scorching through him and Merlin’s finding it hard to even remember where he is. He’s on the brink of losing his mind to the pleasure spiking through him when Uther intervenes with a hand on Edwin’s shoulder, pulling him firmly back; Merlin moans involuntarily at the loss of contact.

‘Careful now,’ Uther says, ‘we wouldn’t want this to be over so soon. And remember,’ his voice turns dangerous and heavy with unspoken threat, ‘the first turn is mine.’ Edwin stares at him, and the moment deepens, tenses as the challenge hangs and then breaks as he acquiesces, bows his head, and moves away.

Uther takes his place, pressing himself down to rub against Merlin, wringing a tortured gasp from his throat. Merlin’s eyes are clouded and unfocused, but seeing Uther settled between his legs, cock hard and leaking, he finds the presence of mind to struggle; Gaius is on him before he can do more than thrash weakly about, pinning his arms above his head.

‘You don’t want to do this,’ Merlin pants, breathless with arousal despite himself. He closes his eyes tightly. ‘You really, really don’t want to do this.’

‘No,’ Uther smirks, parting Merlin’s legs, hands sure and torturously slow, ‘I really think I do.’ Without warning Uther enters him with a violent thrust. Merlin gasps and his eyes fly open; Uther is fully seated inside him, and it hurts, but Edwin’s magic still writhes ecstatic in his body so that even the pain is unbearably sweet. He can’t contain a whimper.

The bed dips as Edwin joins them properly, running his hands up and over Uther’s sides in a teasing caress as he positions himself behind the king, cock nudging against his ass. This, it seems, Uther will allow in his passion, and he spreads his legs obligingly. Edwin grasps him by the shoulders, whispers a spell into his neck to ease the passage as he thrusts inside. Merlin feels the movement as the king groans, his weight shifting over him; the three of them are so intimately intertwined that Merlin can’t tell who starts first, Uther or Edwin, can’t differentiate one thrust from another, but he feels them both pounding and driving, moving as one.

It’s awful and incredible and wrong and nothing has ever felt so good. Merlin bucks helplessly into each thrust, biting his lip to keep from screaming, the taste of blood sharp and salty in his mouth. Gaius’ grip chafes against his wrists as he arches up into Uther’s hard, tight body, and he knows he’ll have bruises in the morning from where the king’s hands are digging into his hips, but most of all he’s aware of Edwin’s spell building inside him, invading him, raging in his veins and setting his body alight. It jolts though him, more and more forceful with each thrust from the men pinning him down, Uther and the magic both inside him, driving out the last shreds of sanity and self-control until he’s begging and moaning; his eyes burn molten gold, and it is Arthur’s name breaking on his lips.

Swept away by the tide of searing pleasure, Merlin does not notice when the prince himself arrives in the doorway, come to see a father he thinks is dying. The shock hits Arthur hard. The creaking bed and heaving bodies – for a long minute he cannot process the scene before him, but then he hears Merlin moaning his name while his father fucks him, and he can't hold back his gasp; Uther turns, even as Edwin thrusts into him, and meets Arthur's gaze; holds it, challenging; licks his lips. Merlin moans again and Arthur's knees go weak as he sags against the wall.

Arthur is finding it increasingly difficult to think. He feels he should be revolted, appalled; he knows he should leave, now. He doesn’t. Instead his hand begins to creep slowly down towards his hardening erection, seemingly of its own accord; he couldn’t stop it even if he wanted to. For a moment he pauses, but then Uther lowers his head on the bed and punctuates a vicious thrust by sinking his teeth into the junction between Merlin’s neck and shoulder. Merlin’s choked-out cry forces his hand to close that last inch and he fists his cock harshly. He can barely make out what’s happening in the writhing mass of sweat-slick bodies but he can hear Merlin and catch brief glimpses of pale flesh, and that is more than enough.

‘Harder!’ he hears Merlin gasp, voice broken and desperate, and Arthur can’t tear his eyes from the bed: Edwin digs his fingers into Uther’s hips harder with each thrust and drops his head to mouth along the king’s spine, nipping at the old, half-faded scars there; Uther groans and bucks, Merlin writhing helplessly beneath him; Gaius stands by, panting, his hands on Merlin’s wrists a mere formality now that the boy is no longer even thinking of trying to struggle.

Arthur matches their rhythm without conscious thought; he is at this moment incapable of having a conscious thought about anything. He pumps his cock as his head drops back against the wall, exposing the strong column of his throat. His eyes are half-closed and heavy with barely suppressed desire as he watches, gasping in shallow, stuttering breaths. The noises Merlin’s making, sharp and pleading, force him straight to the edge almost instantly, and it’s all he can do to stave off the piercing rush of free-fall release. 

He’s been dancing around his attraction to Merlin for weeks now, unable to confront it, and this is entirely more than he can handle. The air in the room is hot and tight, filled with groaning and the slap of flesh on flesh; the sight of Merlin pinned and spread is branded into his mind every time he closes his eyes; aggressive hunger sparks in his blood. Arthur’s focus narrows until he almost believes that he can taste the sweat on Merlin’s skin, touch him, feel him. As Merlin begins to push back into Uther’s thrusts frantically in onrushing climax, Arthur is with him in every gasping breath; Merlin stiffens and arches, and Arthur hisses his name as they come.

The ecstasy is infectious, and Uther and Edwin can’t hold out much longer, not with Merlin spent and fragile beneath them.  Edwin drops his forehead to Uther’s shoulder, his movements becoming brutal and uncontrolled. Uther growls low in his throat, urging him on as they drive, hurtling, into release. All three of them lie tangled together, panting until their breathing evens and their hearts slow.

Finally Gaius releases Merlin and takes a step back, achingly hard as he takes in the debauched scene before him – Uther, spread out and lounging on the velvet covers next to Merlin, one hand curled around the back of his neck in casual ownership, radiating smugness; Edwin , half-collapsed on top of them, exhausted and content. Merlin looks wrung-out and barely conscious, dark hair plastered to his forehead, but he manages the strength to look up and across the room to where Arthur is leaning against the wall, eyes screwed tightly shut.

‘Arthur,’ he rasps hoarsely into a silence redolent with sated lust, realising for the first time that the prince has been there all along.  Arthur’s eyes fly open and he starts guiltily, yanking his hand out of his trousers. His mouth works silently as he meets Merlin’s confused gaze until he drops his head, mumbling something inaudible. He stumbles from the room so quickly that he nearly trips over his own feet in his haste to be gone. Merlin stretches a hand after him, instinctively wanting to follow, heart in his mouth, but Uther leans in and grips his wrist firmly.

‘Give him some time,’ he murmurs huskily, lips unexpectedly soft as they whisper against the sensitive skin just under Merlin’s ear; Merlin shivers and lets himself be pressed back against the sheets, too tired and lost to fight.  

Gaius allows himself a private smile and excuses himself with a bow and murmured ‘Sire’. Uther waves an imperious hand and smirks; he knows after all these years that his physician prefers to take care of himself alone, and after this he should have ample material for reflection.  His gaze shifts from the old man’s retreating form to the young body draped limply on the bed beside him; his smirk turns private and predatory and he leans down for a last invasive kiss. Even now Merlin tastes of untamed power and an unbroken will, and Uther yearns to rectify this. ‘Sleep,’ he murmurs as he pulls back, eyes lit with possibility. He lies back, satisfied, relishing the prospect of the days to come.

Beside him, Merlin sleeps, and dreams of Arthur.