It had been easy for Gwaine to track the two men through the forest. Merlin's passage, desperate as it was, had been less than stealthy, with no care given to concealing his path or direction.

The glade he found them in was beautiful, almost unearthly; magical. He gasped.

It was an open grassy space, encircled by trees of Beech and Yew, Oak and Hawthorne. Centrally a majestic oak stood proud, thick and gnarled with age. So thick that six Knights could have linked arms around it. Some of its twisting, meandering branches wove their way to touch the ground. The grass of the clearing was like a lake of silver, burnished by the moon, and rippling under a breeze which Gwaine couldn't feel.

He frowned, why can't I feel the breeze? he wondered. He could see the lovers under the oak, locked together, but their movements appeared languid as if they were moving in slow motion. "What the..?" Gwaine muttered to himself. He noticed that the air seemed thicker inside the circle of trees than in the rest of the forest. Tentatively he stretched out a hand, passing it through the invisible barrier, up to his elbow. He experienced a light tingling sensation prickle his skin, almost pleasant, slightly warm. His frown deepened as he moved his arm experimentally - it left a trail in the air behind itself; and the air seemed full of little sparks.

"Merlin, trust you to stumble into an enchanted bloody glade" he murmured. Then he exclaimed "Ah well! In for a Florin, in for a Groat!" and shrugging, stared to remove his clothes.

Once naked, he stepped through into the clearing, stopping once inside, and exhaled (releasing a breath he hadn't realised he was holding) when nothing untoward had happened to him. He wiggled his toes in the grass experimentally, luxuriating in the feeling, as it was uncommonly soft and thick. He stretched his arms over his head, arching his back, and then set off towards Arthur and Merlin.


"Oh. Oh!" Merlin opened his mouth in a silent cry as he felt Arthur's member stretch the delicate flesh and muscle of his hole. Despite his fingers preceding his cock it still burned as he pushed, past the rings of muscle at the entrance, and on into the space beyond, catching and snagging as he moved in him.

The mixture of pain and pleasure sent sparks dancing though his body, coalescing in his abdomen; making him grit his teeth and pant. He could feel Arthur trying to control himself, for Merlin's sake, to prevent himself from thrusting too hard or too fast. Merlin gave a mewl of annoyance. He didn't want slow, or quiet, or gentle. He didn't want to wait. He wanted hard and fast and now. Part of him was still angry with Arthur and on some level he wanted the sex to reflect that.

He rocked his hips back, hard, impatiently, driving Arthur further into him and causing him to cry out, an incoherent growl that may have been Merlin's name, "Agmarrghha!" and then again, more controlled, "Merlin!" growled and gravelly and mildly annoyed.

"Shut up Arthur. Just shut up. Stop complaining and just take me!" Merlin smiled and drove his hips back again, enjoying the grunt of pleasure from the Prince. The sensation of the man filling him was divine, despite the lingering burn, as he dragged back out.


The crown Prince of Camelot (on his knees and buried to the root in his manservant) was quite a sight to behold.

The perfect musculature; so perfect in fact that he could be used for teaching an anatomy lesson. No death or dissection would be necessary to learn the muscles; Pectoralis major, biceps, triceps, trapezius, scalenes, intercostals, erector spinae; all perfectly defined. It was a class Gwaine would be happy to attend. Strong thighs, sculpted abdomen, the slight bulge of muscle where hip met torso, the trail of hair – more brown than blond – showing the way down to where his body joined with Merlin's. The blond hair on Arthur's head, tosseled and sweat streaked, eye's lidded, lips parted. Gwaine felt himself swallow, his throat suddenly dry.

Now he was inside the clearing, having crossed the invisible barrier, time seem to have almost reached a normal speed; he noted though, that as he moved across the glade he left a fading trail in the air, like degrading images of himself. He shrugged. Apart from the light tingle over his skin, which was nice in its way, the experience of being in the glade was good, joyful, even. He shrugged again. He was a fighter. Strength. No need to worry about what was going on. This was more Merlin's kind of puzzle to unravel – he was unsure why he felt that but it seemed to ring true to him (another thing not to worry over).

He was nearly at the Oak now, the two men had shown no sign they knew of his approach. His plan (as far as he had one) was to try to curb Arthur's jealousy by giving him the same experience he'd given Merlin.

Gwaine was now standing directly behind Arthur, watching his fine body move, muscles rippling and trembling as he thrust, moaning, again and again into the ivory skinned man on his knees before him.

Gwaine had brought his small skein of oil in with him. He unstoppered it and poured an ample amount into his cupped palm. Expertly he resealed it without spilling a drop of the precious oil and let the skein fall to the floor. He was hard already from the sight and sounds of the lovers. His sex stood proudly; he turned his cupped palm and allowed the oil to drip down on to the tip, sucking in a breath as the viscous fluid trickled over the sensitive skin. He placed the hollow of his palm over the glans and stroked over it before making a fist and sliding it along his length, coating himself with the oil, he moaned, and stroked a little harder, a little faster, his eyes never leaving the tantalising sight before him. Once satisfied he was well lubricated, he stooped and retrieved the skein, and tipped a little more oil into the palm of his right hand.

It was a shame; he thought idly, that he had left his oil in the saddle bag the night he'd spent with Merlin. He didn't like to cause unnecessary pain.

Whatever the magic of this place, its affect seemed to make Gwaine totally relaxed, he felt as if he had all the time in the world, nor a care in it. He hoped (without much real worry) that as Merlin and Arthur hadn't sensed his presence yet, then the affect was the same on them. Else his plan might back fire and he would find himself at the wrong end of Arthur's fists.

He knelt behind and to the side of Arthur. Leaning forward tentatively placed his hands on the beautiful torso and his lips to the blonds' neck.