Chapter 25

Chapter Twenty-Five

ARTHUR

Never in my life have I been so utterly sated.

I drifted in and out of consciousness, my body languid and exhausted in the most delicious way possible. The silk sheets were cool against my heated skin, the plush mattress cradling my aching muscles.

Around me, my knights and sorcerer lounged in various states of undress, their skin glistening with the sheen of sweat. Galahad lay stretched out beside me, his fingers idly tracing patterns on my stomach. I loved looking at him. His body was a work of art. He wasn’t overly hard and muscular, but he was powerful, thick, and massive. I’d never felt so safe as I did in his arms.

Tristan sat at the edge of the bed, his silver hair mussed and his eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. Lancelot leaned against one of the crumbling stone walls as he watched me with a strange, contemplative look that I couldn’t decipher. Gawain and Percival were sprawled on the soft, mossy floor, passing the nearly empty bottle of faerie wine back and forth.

Merlin stood by the arched window, the twilight filtering in and casting his face in a glow. As if sensing my gaze, he turned to me, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "As much as I'd love to just stay here forever, we should probably head back to the palace. The celebration will be winding down soon, and we wouldn't want to cause a panic.”

I moved, stretching languidly as I made my way to where my dress lay pooled on the floor. But before I could reach for it, Merlin intercepted me. "Allow me," he purred, his fingers dancing through the air.

Tendrils of golden magic swirled around me. In the blink of an eye, I was fully dressed in my gown, and my body felt fresh and clean, not even the slightest hint of what we’d just done left on my skin.

With a wave of his hand, Merlin conjured a shimmering portal that swirled with golden light. It pulsed and hummed with magic, cutting the room in half. On the other side, I could barely make out a long corridor. I gaped at him, then narrowed my eyes. “You’ve been able to portal this entire time, and we’ve been on horseback instead?”

Merlin shook his head. “We’re not allowed to portal you or fly you to your next trial. I thought we’d established that when your knights decided to show off their fancy wings?”

I grumbled, not wanting to admit he was right. But it did explain how he’d been appearing in random places. I never questioned him before, but knowing how deep his level of training had to be to conjure portals was staggering. Sometimes I felt like there was still so much I didn’t know about my best friend.

One by one, the knights stepped through, their wings unfurling as they disappeared into the luminous vortex. I took a deep breath, glancing back at the enchanted grotto one last time. The delicate blossoms seemed to glow in the twilight, the silvery orbs of light casting an ethereal shimmer across the moss-covered stones. It was a place out of a dream, and I knew someday I’d come back here.

Merlin's hand found the small of my back, gently guiding me towards the portal. Together, we stepped into the swirling light, the world around us dissolving into a kaleidoscope of color and magic.

We emerged from the portal into a secluded alcove just off the main palace courtyard. The air was still thick with the heady scent of magic and revelry, but the wild energy from earlier had settled into a more languid, dreamlike haze.

Merlin's hand remained a comforting presence at the small of my back as my knights fell into formation around us, their wings tucking away seamlessly until they once again resembled the knights of the round table again. Only the faint sheen of sweat on their skin and the satisfied glint in their eyes hinted at what they’d just done to me.

Galahad was the first to step forward as we reached my door, a roguish smile playing at his lips as he lifted my hand to his mouth. His kiss was feather-light against my knuckles, but it sent a shiver racing down my spine, nonetheless. "Until tomorrow, beautiful faerie."

One by one, my knights bid me goodnight before heading off to their own rooms. Percival's shadows caressed my skin, his dark eyes smoldering. Gawain's fingers trailed icy patterns down my spine as he pressed a kiss to my cheek. Tristan placed a gentle kiss on my forehead, and Merlin simply winked.

Finally, only Lancelot remained. Impulsively, I reached out and took his hand in mine, marveling at the contrast of my pale, unblemished skin against his battle-worn palm. His fingers tightened around mine instinctively, and the thrum of barely contained power emanated from his touch.

"Stay with me tonight," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the distant strains of faerie music. "I don't want to be alone."

His eyes widened fractionally, a flicker of surprise and something deeper, more vulnerable, flashing across his face. Then, his shoulders relaxed, the tension bleeding out of his powerful frame as he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

We slipped into my chambers, the heavy oak door swinging shut behind us with a soft click. Silently, reverently, Lancelot's hands found the delicate laces that held the straps of my dress together. With deft, practiced movements, he loosened the ties, his fingertips grazing the bare skin of my shoulders. The gauzy fabric whispered over my skin as it pooled at my feet.

He undressed too, and we made our way to the bed. Not as large as the one in the grotto, but had plenty of room for the two of us. We slipped beneath the cool silken sheets, and immediately, Lancelot pulled me towards him.

He rolled on top of me, his strong, muscular body settling between my parted thighs. The heat of his skin seeped into mine, igniting a slow-burning fire deep in my core. His golden hair fell around his face like a halo, the soft strands brushing against my cheeks as he leaned down.

Slowly, reverently, he captured my lips in a deep, sensual kiss. It was different from the frenzied, passionate kisses we'd shared earlier. This was languid, exploratory, as if we had all the time in the world. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, tasting, teasing, before delving inside to dance with mine.

I melted into him, my fingers threading through his silken hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp. Lancelot groaned into my mouth. His hand skimmed down my side, calluses rasping deliciously against my sensitive skin.

Lancelot settled more firmly between my thighs, his hardening length nestling against my wetness. He rocked gently against me, coating himself in my arousal. My head fell back against the pillows, a breathy moan escaping my kiss-swollen lips.

His mouth trailed down the column of my throat, letting his teeth scrape against my racing pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue. He braced himself on one powerful forearm. The muscles flexed and rippled as he reached between our bodies to grasp his cock. The broad head nudged against my entrance, hot and insistent, sending sparks of anticipation skittering along my nerve endings.

Slowly, inch by tortuous inch, he pushed forward. I could feel every ridge and vein of his thick length as he sank deeper, stretching me, filling me so completely that I saw stars.

Lancelot stilled, his forehead pressing against mine as we both adjusted to the exquisite sensation. His breath mingled with mine, warm and ragged, his heart thundering against my chest in perfect sync with my own racing pulse.

Then Lancelot kissed me slowly as he began to move. He took his time, savoring every ounce of pleasure. His lips moved with a tender reverence that had tears pricking my eyes. He kissed me deeply, thoroughly, as if trying to force all of his need into that single point of connection. I clung to him, my fingers digging into the corded muscles of his back, feeling them flex and ripple beneath my touch with every roll of his hips.

Lancelot's hand skimmed up my side, calluses igniting sparks of sensation in its wake. He cupped my breast, kneading the soft flesh before rolling the pebbled nipple between his fingers. I arched into his touch with a breathy moan, my nails raking down his spine as pleasure jolted through me like lightning.

He tore his mouth away from mine, trailing scorching kisses along the column of my throat, to the sharp edge of my collarbone. His tongue laved at the hollow at the base of my neck before dipping lower to swirl around the rosy peak of my breast.

His mouth closed around my nipple, suckling hard as his hips snapped forward, driving his cock deeper into my aching core. I cried out, my back bowing off the bed as pleasure seared through my veins like molten fire. He lavished attention on my breasts, licking, nipping, suckling, until I was writhing beneath him, incoherent with need.

"Lance," I gasped, my voice ragged and desperate. "Please..."

He lifted his head, his golden eyes molten with desire as they locked onto mine. With a fluid grace and strength, he spread me wider, pinning my knees, opening me fully to him. The new angle allowed him to sink even deeper, hitting that spot inside me that made my thighs tremble.

Lancelot's thrusts grew harder, faster, and more demanding. The bed frame creaked in protest as the headboard slammed against the stone wall with every powerful snap of his hips.

I could feel my climax building, coiling tighter and tighter in my core like a spring wound to the point of breaking. Lancelot's hand snaked between our sweat-slicked bodies until his fingers found my clit. He rubbed tight, focused circles around the swollen nub.

"Come for me," he growled, his voice rough and strained with the effort of holding back his own climax. "I want to feel you shatter around me, Arthur."

With a sharp cry, I came undone. Ecstasy ripped through me. Wave after wave of intense, mind-numbing pleasure crashed over me, stealing my breath and robbing me of all rational thought. The world fell away until there was nothing but Lancelot—his body surging into mine, his skin sliding against my own, his harsh breaths mingling with my broken moans.

I felt his rhythm falter, his thrusts growing erratic and desperate. His fingers dug into my hips hard enough to bruise as he chased his own end. With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt one final time, his body going rigid above me as he spilled himself deep inside me, cursing as he moaned.

We lay there for a long moment, our chests heaving, hearts pounding in sync as we drifted down from the dizzying heights of pleasure. Lancelot's arms tightened around me, cradling me close as he rolled onto his side, pulling me with him.

I tucked my head under his chin, my cheek resting against the solid wall of his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat was a soothing lullaby.

The room was quiet except for our slowing breaths and the distant melodies of faerie music floating on the breeze. The gossamer curtains drifted lazily on the balmy air, like delicate wisps of mist.

My fingers followed the swirling paths of the runes painted on his golden skin, tracing idle patterns on Lancelot’s chest. His hand came up to cup my cheek, tilting my face up to meet his gaze.

"I think I might have been wrong," he murmured, his voice low and rough. My breath caught and my heart lurched, and a slow, sated smile stretched his lips. “I was wrong about so many things.”