"Thank you, they're lovely," Guinevere says, accepting the vase of flowers from a page. He must be new. The queen knows all of the servants, but new ones arrive every week or so. Still, she makes a mental note to learn the name of this young man.
"Who was that?" Arthur asks.
"A page with some flowers," she declares, holding the vase aloft for a moment before setting it on the table.
"Who from?" He walks over to join her at the table. It seems to be a perfectly nice arrangement of flowers.
"They're not from you?"
"No, I... I don't think so anyway. I may have offhandedly said something to Merlin which he took as an order. Probably not, with the way he listens, but that doesn't mean it's not possible," Arthur reasons.
"Well, they're beautiful regardless," Guinevere decides, leaning over to inhale their scent. "Sweet."
He leans over as well, takes a sniff, and makes a noncommittal grunt. "If you are happy, then I am happy," he says, pulling her into his arms.
"I am happy," she replies, lifting her face to his and meeting him in a kiss.
He wraps his arms around her, pulling her against him and lingering over her lips longer than either of them were expecting, surrendering to the sudden wave of desire that swept over him.
They almost don't hear the knock at the door. "Arthur," Guinevere says, freeing her lips only long enough to say the words, fighting against her growing arousal. "Door."
"Mmm-hmm," Arthur absently responds, then the words seem to sink in. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. "Oh. What is it, Merlin?" he calls, and the door opens.
Merlin is unfazed at seeing the queen in the king's arms, as it is nearly an everyday occurrence. "Round Table meeting," he says. "You're late," he adds, his voice tinged with the slightest hint of reproach. He glances at the flowers and makes a puzzled face for just a moment before schooling his features again. Probably nothing. You're just jumpy because it's been too quiet around here.
"Merlin," Arthur replies, loosening his hold on his wife, "I am the king. I am not late. Everyone else is... early."
"Whatever you say, Sire," Merlin answers. "But everyone else is already there."
"We were just heading down," Guinevere answers, taking her husband's arm. He places his hand over hers and she feels a jolt of desire course through her. She blinks in surprise, looking up at Arthur. He seems to be clenching his jaw and breathing a bit more heavily than usual. When he looks down at her, the pupils of his blue eyes are blown wide with lust.
"We should have feigned illness and stayed in," he murmurs.
"We have responsibilities... tempting though that thought is..." she quietly replies, her voice a trifle huskier than usual.
Arthur is surprised at her agreement. Usually she is quite insistent on following protocol and adhering to the rules, likely due to the fact that she still feels she needs to prove herself as queen. Not to the commoners, but to the court, who have been far more critical and slower to accept her.
"I seem to only have one thing on my mind right now... and it is definitely not this meeting," he whispers outside the doors to the great hall, his lips brushing her ear as he does so, his tongue flicking out against her skin for a fraction of a second.
She bites her lower lip, closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. She feels hot – more so in some places than others – and distracted. Gather your wits, Guinevere.
Merlin opens the doors and they walk in. He pulls the queen's chair out for her and she sits, followed by the king.
"I presume we are ready to begin?" Arthur asks, pre-empting any comments or questions about their tardiness. He shifts in his seat, attempting to get comfortable. There is a very slight draft in the room, and he is downwind of his wife. He is finding her scent to be quite distracting.
"Yes, Sire," Sir Leon answers, picking up a rather large sheaf of parchment. Gwaine doesn't bother to muffle his groan, and the senior knight shoots him a glare before launching into his lengthy – and mind-numbingly dry – reports on the state of the kingdom.
Guinevere glances at Arthur, slowly licking her lips. I want you so badly right now.
Arthur bites his lower lip, then gradually releases it. If this room were empty I would have you on this table.
"...if that is all right with you, of course. My lord?" Leon's voice drifts into Arthur's consciousness.
"Yes, that's fine," Arthur answers, not knowing to what he's just agreed, but he trusts Leon, so it's likely fine. He coughs, shifting his chair a couple of inches closer to his wife at the same time. Next, he thoughtfully rubs his chin, then drops his hand onto his lap. What is wrong with me? I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't. I'm going to, but I shouldn't. I just... need...
Despite his conflicting thoughts, his hand creeps over to Guinevere's knee, where he begins crawling his fingers into her skirts, gradually pulling them up.
He expects her to stop him. She doesn't. In fact, she scoots her chair closer to the table to give them more cover. Then she moves her left knee closer to him.
Guinevere clasps her hands in front of her on the table, her fingers clenching so tightly that her knuckles pale a bit. I shouldn't be encouraging him. We are in the middle of a meeting and we are going to get caught. When his fingers make contact with her knee, she holds her breath. When they move higher, above the top edge of her stocking, she bites the insides of her cheeks. We are going to get caught... yet that somehow makes it seem more exciting. The thought surprises her. She's never been daring or promiscuous or even slightly disobedient. I just... need...
Leon drones on. Arthur's fingers creep higher, callused pads skimming up her inner thigh beneath the table. Gwaine yawns. The king's hand reaches its target, so hot and so wet he nearly comes in his trousers. Merlin quietly slips from the room, something prickling at the back of his mind. Arthur slides a single finger along his wife's folds, biting his lip to maintain control. Percival leans back in his chair and nudges Elyan, who nods his thanks to the other knight. Guinevere's eyes close for a moment and she wills her breathing to be steady.
Across the table, one of the older lords watches the king and queen with more interest than strictly necessary, but he cannot tell for certain if the enchanted flowers he arranged to be brought to the royal chambers are having any effect. He forgot to account for how dreadfully boring this particular meeting – a monthly joint meeting of the Council and the senior knights – usually is, and many of the attendees, including their rulers, have adopted various methods to keep themselves appearing interested. Or, in Gwaine's case, awake.
It seems his plan to expose the base, vulgar nature of the king's association with the handmaiden may not come to fruition. He yawns behind his hand, trying to keep his eyes open and on his targets.
"Now on to issues from the outlying villages," Leon continues, pausing only a moment for a drink of water to freshen his throat.
Arthur's long, dextrous fingers slide in and out, up and down, teasing and caressing the soft, pliant flesh between Guinevere's legs. He notices the First Knight looking towards him, and he manages a nod.
"Are you all right, my lady?" Leon asks, brows furrowed with concern.
The king has the presence of mind to stop his ministrations so his wife can speak. "Yes... thank you, Sir Leon," she answers.
The knight nods, returns to his parchments, and Arthur's fingers begin moving again. Guinevere wishes her arms were longer so she could reach beneath the table and return the favor, to wrap her strong, slender fingers around her husband's shaft and stroke him, give him the pleasure he is giving her. She briefly (for that is all she can manage) contemplates dropping something on the floor so she could climb under the table and take him in her mouth, but knows she would be down there far longer than necessary or proper. Not to mention the queen should not be crawling beneath tables at all.
Instead, she clenches her hands, knowing she's leaving marks on the backs with her fingernails, which have been allowed to grow a bit now that she is not doing manual labor. She wants to rake those longer fingernails down her husband's back and make him groan.
She wants him to fill her again and again until she is sore and no longer able to walk. I want... I need...
She clenches her jaw as she climaxes, hot and pulsing, around Arthur's fingers, slamming her knees together as gracefully as she can to stop his relentless fingers.
He drags the wet digits across her thigh, leaving a cool trail as the moisture dries. He wants to bring them to his lips and lick off every drop of her. He wants to slide below the table and bury his face between her thighs and drink every drop of her.
He wants to have her on the table, under the table, against the wall, in the alcove, on the throne, on every imaginable surface and in every imaginable way. I want... I need...
Leon pauses, and Arthur glances at his wife. She is still flushed, and squirms a little in her seat, obviously (to him) still aroused and needy. "Sir Leon, I believe you are right. Queen Guinevere does not seem to be feeling well at all," he says, turning his eyes to his wife and giving her a very pointed look.
"Yes, I am sorry," she agrees, playing along. "I did not wish to interrupt the proceedings or disrupt this very important meeting."
"No, no; your health is much more important," Leon says, setting his remaining parchments on the table. His comments are met with murmurs of general agreement, many simply agreeing out of a desire to be done with the meeting.
"We will adjourn then, and if there are any pressing matters, Leon, please... leave the appropriate parchments with Merlin and he will..." Arthur pauses, looking around. "Merlin? Where is he?"
"I will find him, Sire," Leon says. "Please, see to the queen."
The king nods and slyly adjusts his trousers so as not to embarrass himself on standing. Even so, he stands and quickly turns, holding his hand out to Guinevere.
When she stands, she wavers a bit, and the others perceive this to be a symptom of her illness. She takes Arthur's arm and heavily leans on him.
"Thank you," she breathes once they are out of earshot. "I do not know what has come over me, but all I want to do is..."
"I feel the same way. All I can think about is being with you... alone," he agrees, now moving swiftly through the corridor. They burst into the royal chambers to find Merlin studying the flowers. "Out!" he orders.
Merlin, wide-eyed with surprise, nods and scurries from the room, leaving them alone. He takes the flowers with him, fairly certain the king and queen won't notice the disappearance of the dubious gift. "They are not to be disturbed for the rest of the day. King's orders," he says to the guards posted outside. Grateful the flowers are enchanted specifically for Arthur and Guinevere, he carries them into Gaius' quarters.
"Now, Arthur, now," Guinevere pants, hopping up onto the table and hoisting her skirts up as he frees himself from his trousers.
"Yes," he agrees, delving into her as soon as he can, still mostly dressed. "Ohhhh, yes..." he groans, eyes blissfully closed as he finally is able to quench the thirst that has been plaguing him for the last hour.
"Harder," she commands, grabbing the front of his shirt, trusting him to keep her from falling off of the table. "More."
He grunts and complies, pounding furiously into her, using much more force than normal. He needs this and knows she does as well.
"Oh!" Guinevere gasps, and they both reach their peak quite quickly. "Oh, mmm..."
"Guinevere," Arthur mumbles, wrapping his arms around her and dropping his head on her shoulder. "What was that?"
"I don't know," she answers. He slides out of her and she immediately misses him. She wants – needs – him back inside of her. "Oh, but—"
"It's not done yet," he finishes, turning his head to suck on her neck, his hands moving to the laces on the back of her dress. "I need to get this dress off of you. Now."
xXx
"What kind of spell?" Gaius asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.
"Some kind of... love spell," Merlin answers, flipping through a book.
"Why would someone put a love spell on Arthur and Gwen? Everyone knows they already love each other?"
Merlin looks up. "Not that kind of love," he drily states, staring hard at Gaius with a very definite don't-make-me-spell-it-out-for-you look on his face.
Gaius' eyes widen. "Oh," he says, understanding. "Goodness. But... why?"
"I don't know. I need to find the source of the magic."
"Morgana is the most likely candidate," the older man suggests.
"Yes, but she would be working with someone inside the castle," Merlin replies. "All I know is Arthur and Gwen will be very... busy for a while."
"Don't these sort of spells usually wear off after... you know?"
"There are six flowers in this vase, Gaius," Merlin answers. "From what I can tell, that means one flower per... um... encounter."
"Oh, my."
Merlin grunts a response, then closes the book with a thud before stomping up to his room for his other book.
xXx
"Oh, yes!" Guinevere cries out, no longer caring if anyone outside the doors to their chambers hears her. This is her fourth orgasm since they returned to their chambers.
After the interlude on the table, they very nearly tore one another's clothes off, impatient to begin anew. Arthur bent his wife over a bench and took her from behind, another new experience for them. Three minutes after they finished there he lifted her into his arms and braced her back against a wall, delving into her while standing. They finally made it to the bed after that, where Queen Guinevere of Camelot rode King Arthur like he was a stallion needing to be broken.
She collapses on his chest, both breathing heavy and covered in sweat. "Oh, I'm tired," she breathes.
"Yes," he concurs. "I mean... this is all very enjoyable and all, but... a nap might be nice."
"Mmm," she hums her agreement, unconsciously nuzzling his chest. "Mmm," she hums again as her lips begin kissing his chest. "I don't think we're done yet." She licks, bites, and again licks his nipple, drawing a groan from him.
"No, we aren't," he rumbles. "Where are you going?" he asks, lifting his head as she works her way down his chest instead of up.
"I need... a break..." she says between kisses. "Getting sore... in a good way... but sore."
He gropes for her. "Oh, at least flip around so I can... yes, that's it, come here," he says, smiling as she swings her backside around towards his face, once again lying on top of him, her legs on either side of his head. "Oh, yes," he purrs when her lips slide over his shaft, sucking him into her mouth. "Just like that, Guinevere."
She's only done this for him one other time, and was rather shy about it. Not so this time. She devours him, licking, sucking, and even biting lightly, delving one hand down to cup and squeeze below. She falters when she feels him spread her lips and slide his tongue into her folds.
"Arthur," she whispers, then returns her mouth to his manhood, unable to stop now that she's started.
Arthur hums against her swollen, over-sensitized flesh, adding another sensation. He alternates swirling his tongue around her sensitive button and slipping it inside her. He can taste both of them and he is vaguely aware that his face is getting very wet, but none of that matters. The only thing that matters right now is her, bringing her as much pleasure as she is bringing him.
"Oh," Guinevere gasps, pulling her lips away as she feels herself coming close to her peak again, and she pushes her hips back, chasing the sensation as her husband circles her nub with his tongue, then reaches up and slips two fingers inside of her. "Ohhhmmmmm..." she moans as she takes him in again, sucking harder, more urgently, wanting to feel the throbbing of his release in her mouth.
Arthur falls first this time, his hips bucking up into her as his release rushes forth and down the queen's throat. His fingers and tongue stop only momentarily, then resume with renewed vigor as he licks and strokes her to completion a very short time later.
xXx
"Lord Brentley," Merlin says, returning to Gaius' chambers. "I got confirmation from Myla, Upton, and Breena, who all saw the lord talking to a page they had never seen before," he explains. The kitchen maid, the stable boy, and the laundress' middle daughter are three of the most trustworthy servants in the castle, and with Gaius confirming the use of magic, they may have enough evidence. "And yes, Gwaine and Percival are already looking for this mysterious page," Merlin adds, knowing he is the missing piece of the puzzle.
"Good. Where is Lord Brentley now?" Gaius asks.
"Sir Leon is on his way to his house," Merlin answers.
xXx
"I feel..."
"Better."
"Yes. The... burning need isn't there."
Arthur and Guinevere are lying bonelessly on the bed, sprawled, tangled, and completely exhausted after their sixth encounter. He is still on top of her, still inside her, but neither of them feels the need to move.
"I may not be able to walk tomorrow," Guinevere comments. Arthur is growing heavy, but she cannot summon the energy to tell him.
"You're the queen. You don't have to walk if you don't want to," he replies, kissing the nearest patch of skin.
"Good." She lifts one hand and lets it fall against his head, her fingers toying with his damp hair. "So you think this was some kind of enchantment? The... neediness; the complete, um, uninhibitedness?"
He nods. "I am not sure if we should punish the person responsible or thank him. Or her."
She huffs a small laugh, knowing exactly what he means. Despite the soreness, the exhaustion, the desperation, it was kind of... fun. "You don't think less of me for how I behaved?" she asks.
He lifts his head, which takes a remarkable effort. "Why on earth would I?" he asks.
She bites her lower lip. "Because I... I enjoyed myself. Rather a lot," she admits. "I... I liked being that free with you. Not worrying about what is proper behavior because... because I couldn't worry about that." She averts her eyes. "I don't know any queens, but I do not think my behavior—"
"Guinevere," he interrupts her, his voice soft and tender, "I do not think less of you in any way. Even if we weren't under a spell, you... you may be as free as you like with me. I want you to. I want you to enjoy this as much as I do. And if you want to be a little... daring... from time to time, well, then I want that, too."
"Thank you, Arthur," she replies. "But right now, all I want to do is sleep."
"That is a very good idea." He finally moves off of her and onto his own pillow, pulling the blankets up over them. The light is growing dim outside, and he knows they should probably summon Merlin and have him bring them dinner soon, but like his wife, all he wants to do is sleep. He spoons behind her and whispers, "I love you, Guinevere."
"I love you, Arthur," she answers, and in moments, they are both asleep.
xXx
After a few hours of much-needed slumber, Arthur wakes in a confused stupor. He carefully climbs out of bed so as not to wake Guinevere and sees night has fallen. He uses the chamber pot, then something catches his eye on the floor near the door, where a shaft of light from the corridor illuminates the stones. He staggers over and picks it up.
Arthur and Gwen, the flowers were enchanted. The culprit has been locked in the dungeons and will be waiting for you whenever you are ready to deal with him. You have probably already figured out what you need to do to lift the enchantment, but it will take six times to completely undo it. No one will disturb you until morning. -Merlin.
Arthur reads the note twice, then sets it on the table so he remembers to show it to Guinevere. He shuffles back to bed, deciding everything will wait until tomorrow, pulls his wife into his arms, and falls back into an exhausted sleep.