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As a child, Arthur grew up with tales of the hero Cú Chulainn. Tales of fury, tales of love, tales of tragedy. He fell in love with the stories in time, growing to admire the warrior and stoke a fire to become something just as great. He doesn't expect to ever meet the demigod. He lived in a time before his own and was something of a bedtime story. A wistful dream he would fall asleep to. He'd ask Merlin to tell him the stories when he would sneak away with his friend to ignore the duties of King. He doesn't think that there is one he has not heard. At least, he thought that there hadn't been until he'd joined the Battleground of the Gods and met the man in person. As it would turn out, the stories were much better from Cú Chulainn's lips.

He's starstruck and there's no way around it the first time he catches a glimpse of him. Tongue-tied and flustered, he'd watched the literal man of his dreams bully his way down Solo lane and dominate his foes. He doesn't know how to approach him, doesn't know how to explain that he'd only become the warrior he is because he'd wanted to be him so badly. He continues to watch and fight against and with him and those are the fights he longs to live in for eternity. It's less of a fight and more of a contest of brute strength. He's fought many a foe in his lifetime and on the Battlegrounds, but nothing was quite like boxing against Cú Chulainn. He learns quickly that Cú Chulainn doesn't like to rely on dodging and weaving through his opponent's attacks, but instead eats up the damage and spits it back out like Hellfire. He learns that there is more than a surprising amount of strength woven into muscle and learns that heat radiates off of him in scalding proportions. He is a blinding star and King Arthur is helpless to do anything but watch him burn.

When Merlin finally joins him after what feels like a millennium, his mouth cannot remain shut any longer. "He's even more brilliant in person, Merlin!"

"It seems you're even more hopeless than I would have imagined," he ignores Merlin's exasperated comments. What does he know, after all? This was Cú Chulainn who had dominated much of his fondest childhood memories. He was enraptured by the existence of his hero.

"I just- Merlin, how best do I speak with him?"

"By opening your mouth Arthur, you seem to be doing a fine job of speaking now."

"But... He's him and I'm me." He can't wrap his brain around what Merlin is implying. A man who could take on an entire army on his own? How was he supposed to compare to that?

"What, a beast and a king?" Oh. Well, when he put it that way, Arthur supposed the old wizard had a point. He catches Aphrodite overhearing them and he turns a bright shade of red before she's dashing away with a giggle. He doesn't like the sound of it. "Well then Arthur, I don't think you need to worry about how you'll talk to him anymore. I think Aphrodite will do just that for you. She seems rather friendly with the Celtics."

Merlin was right- he spies Aphrodite whispering away to an amused looking Cú Chulainn in the next match that he is on their team. They're both staring at him and the woman has a look in her eyes that he doesn't quite know how to place. One raised brow from the blonde male has him turning scarlet and rushing out of the fountain rather quickly. He'd forgotten his potions in his haste.

It's a rather fast battle. Aphrodite keeps both him and Cú Chulainn rather healthy the whole game even if she does take a beating in return and the enemy team doesn't stand a chance in the small Joust lane. Beads of sweat run down his face and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels a large hand drop onto his shoulder and a husky voice whisper, "Join me in my room when ya have a moment, laddie." He can't refuse even if he'd wanted to (and Arthur has a hard time imagining that he ever would). He hears his teammates talking rather loudly as he turns away from the debris of the Chaos titan and catches Aphrodite's voice as he passes.

"He's so cute when he's blushing! Like a newlywed bride, isn’t he Cú Chu?" He makes a hasty retreat back to the chambers he'd been provided with.


It takes him a while to build up the courage to seek out the Celt after discarding his armor and taking a well-deserved bath. He's ashamed to admit it- he's the most glorious king to walk the Earth and he's afraid to face conversation with one man? It's ridiculous thinking about it, but the deed is done and he arrives outside of the room that Artio had kindly directed him to when he'd arrived to the Celtic pantheon's rooms. He finds that she's been one of the friendliest gods he's had the pleasure to meet since joining the Battlegrounds, but perhaps that was just because she was a self-proclaimed "mother bear."

Taking a breath, he raps his knuckles against the wood and waits a moment before he hears movement on the other side. He was not prepared for the door swinging open to reveal a very shirtless Cú Chulainn standing in nothing but a pair of dark trousers. He tries to pay attention to what the blonde was saying, he really does, it’s just difficult to focus on a single word coming from his lips when he was being stared in the face by a very nice pair of pecs. Well. Now he knew what to expect out of the berserker if he ever were to seek him out during his down time at least.

“Ya look as if ya have seen a ghost,” he can’t help but to huff at the laugh directed at him but doesn’t protest when the other man steps aside to allow him space to cross into his lodgings. It’s not empty or lacking in trinkets- there are banners with the Celtic pantheon’s symbol on the walls, furs and horns from big hunts. There are pressed flowers on one corner of his dresser with a note in fancy handwriting sitting next to it. An ornate braided rope lays across the top of the large mirror that sits on top of the dresser as well and he briefly wonders what the significance of it could be. It’s lived in and comfortable and Arthur suddenly feels a little less nervous despite how intimate it feels to be able to see any of this.

“Flowers?” He finds himself asking before he can stop himself. He goes to correct himself or dismiss the question altogether when Cú Chulainn already goes to answer without turning from the door he’s closing.

“Aphrodite. She gives them to her friends and tells us- what was it, again?” He’s facing Arthur now with a sly look on his features. It’s an incredibly handsome expression. “Oh yes, that we need all the help getting laid that we can get. Supposedly aphrodisiacs.”

Arthur chokes on his spit and splutters and there is that damnable laugh again but he really can’t help it. He’s not even angry at the clear jab at his ‘easy-to-fluster’ attitude. “T-That’s… nice of her.” It must work if it’s from the Goddess of Lust and Beauty. He watches the fall and rise of broad shoulders with a keener eye than he’ll ever admit to.

“Only if it’s workin’,” Arthur didn’t realize he could choke on his own spit this many times in one conversation, “Otherwise, I may well be makin’ a fool of myself.” Cú Chulainn comes closer at that, stalking forward with all the grace of a warrior of his caliber, “Correct me if I’m wrong laddie… but ya’ve been starin’ and runnin’ skittish like a newborn foal.” His breath catches in his throat when a hand slips under his thin nightshirt and rests on his bare hip. “What are ya scared of, Arthur Pendragon?” His face is close, close, close and Arthur wants so badly in that moment.

“I’m not scared,” He manages to have a stern tone, but it really falls flat when he feels like he’s melting just at the way his thumb rubs circles into his hipbone. A raised brow beckons him to continue. “I-“ He doesn’t know what he wants to say, but he knows that he needs to say everything and nothing. It’s all a mess in his head and he’s always been so terrible when it comes to interpersonal relationships- especially ones where sex is concerned.

“Do ya want me, Arthur?”

“More than anything,” He doesn’t have time to question if that was too forward or too much before there’s a hand on his cheek pulling his lips down into a warm kiss. Kissing Cú Chulainn is nothing like he thought a kiss should be- he’s just as aggressive in his intimacy as he is in anything else in his life it would seem. A soft peck quickly turned into hands steadying his face and pulling him into a deep and intense press of lips against his own. There’s a sense of urgency there in the way his tongue invades his mouth and he’s helpless to do anything but moan in appreciation. Everything is hot, hot, hot, and his head is having trouble catching up to everything happening at the moment. There are hands snaking up his shirt, burning a path up his sides, lips kissing down his jawline and leaving a bruise where his neck and jaw meet. It’s good, but something about it seems too rushed, too hurried- desperate, in a way. It’s almost as if the Celt expects him to leave. To push him away and tell him “never mind.” Almost as if the man needs to touch and feel and kiss as much as he can before he’s denied.

He doesn’t want the other man to feel that way, so he brings up his hands to cup soft cheeks and pull his head away from his neck. Everything stills for a moment and he can see the anticipation in dark eyes. “Slow down,” He murmurs before pulling him into another kiss- slow, tender, unhurried. Damn the Battlegrounds for all he cares- they have all the time that they want and Arthur would kill anyone who dares to interrupt. “We have time, Cú Chulainn,” he manages to make out between soft, sweet kisses.

“Should’a known you were the sweet type,” he hears him laugh when they pull away, a smile tugging at the corners of lips that were normally set in a stern frown. It’s a good luck on him and Arthur wonders just what else he can do to pull more expressions out of the blonde.

The world flips on its back in the next moment with Cú Chulainn’s hands all over his body as they pull and rip at fabric. He writhes against the soft furs of the bed, back arching into greedy touches and battle worn callouses. By the time his clothing either lays on the ground or hangs off of his body in tatters, he’s already achingly hard and staring up into hungry copper eyes. Sensations blend together and he can’t quite keep track of where Cú Chulainn’s mouth is before it’s found a new place to explore on his body. He’s so wound up and he just wants to touch- and he realizes belatedly that he’s allowed to touch. Finally, he thinks to himself as he pulls the blonde up and flips their positions, hands holding strong hips down against the bed. He’s kissing over and memorizing the shape of blue tattoos as his hands pull away what little clothing Cú Chulainn had been wearing before he’d entered the room. He takes it slowly, tongue running over hard muscles earned through years of war and combat, and feels his ministrations rewarded with an impatient groan and a harsh tug on his hair. He doesn’t mind- he’ll still take it slow. He wants to make this last.

“Ya don’t have to be so gentle,” Cú Chulainn huffs above him through slightly panted breaths of air, “I won’t break.”

“And if I want to be?” He knows there has to be a reverent look on his face, staring up into copper eyes and gold hair from between parted thighs. He doesn’t know what kind of look passes over those stern features (shock, surprise, maybe thoughtfulness?), but he can’t help but to feel as if no one shows this man enough affection if he can’t comprehend the thought of someone wanting to be gentle with him. “Let me make love to you,” Arthur doesn’t know if he’s pleading or not, but he’s desperate to show this creature love and affection.

“… yer different, aren’t ya?” He feels legs come up and wrap around his shoulders, thighs not quite squeezing, but resting on either side of his head. “Alrigh’, Arthur. Show me how kings make love.” It’s all the permission he needs to rest his hands around broad thighs and lay wet kisses and licks to the shaft of the cock in front of him. Soft moans and a strong grip in his hair encourage him to keep going. He doesn’t pull his dick into his mouth yet, instead choosing to tease and rile up the Celt. It’s almost cute how petulant it makes the older demigod. He can tell how impatient he is in the way he pulls and pushes his head where he wants him and the muscles in his legs flex and relax against his back and shoulders. He knows it’s far too slow for the berserker- he’s always going full speed; he couldn’t expect him to know the virtues of a little bit of patience.

Still, Arthur is nothing if not an attentive lover despite his general lack of experience with different partners (he can thank Merlin for that). He continues to take his time, before he finally relents on a particularly harsh yank to his hair and pulls the full length of him into his throat without any preamble. The loud moan of shock is enough to cause Arthur to buck his hips into the bed below him and he’s reminded of how painfully he aroused he is. There’s harsh panting from somewhere above him as he relaxes his throat and swallows, pulling his head up to have just the tip between his lips before sliding back down to brush his nose against a pale pelvis. He takes his time, bobbing his head up and down, up and down, and he knows he’s driving the Celt insane by the way he has a death grip on his hair. He loses his sense of time down there, pressing wet kisses all over his inner thighs and cock, leaving a mess of spittle behind.

He’s not expecting it when Cú Chulainn drags him up by the hair and presses his lips harshly against his. It’s a contrast to everything he’s been doing, but he loves the way he sucks on his tongue and grips his ass tightly in strong hands. Where Arthur is gentle and slow affection, Cú Chulainn is harsh and definitive in his own, taking what he wants and giving so much that Arthur’s head feels like it’s spinning. “My turn,” He hears a husky voice breathe and then he’s flipped onto his back with a beautiful man down between his thighs and his toes are curling into the bed when he feels a tongue run from his hole to the tip of his cock. He was right to assume that filthy mouth would do even filthier things to his body.

A ragged moan is torn from his throat when he feels hands pull apart his cheeks and the flat of a tongue press against his hole. No one’s ever done this to him before and that, he thinks, is criminal with how good he makes him feel. He feels the tip of that wet muscle press up and inside him and he desperately wants more, pressing his hips back against Cú Chulainn’s face. “Oh-“ He breathes when a hand circles around his length and pulls, not enough for any real satisfaction, but it’s enough to relieve the pressure that’s been building there since the first kiss. He’s closes his eyes to lose himself in these sensations, holding on to soft furs as warm lips and tongue work him over and he’s certain there’s saliva everywhere. He opens his eyes when he suddenly feels a hand missing from his skin and has to immediately close them again when he sees dark copper eyes staring up at him in a sense taunting satisfaction. The man is working himself open and the visual of Cú Chulainn fucking himself open on his own fingers while he has his mouth sucking one of his balls into his mouth is enough to threaten orgasm that’s cut off by a hard grip at the base of his dick. He’s absolutely filthy and Arthur loves it.

“Not yet,” He groans loudly when he hears the denial, but doesn’t have a chance to respond before thick thighs are bracketing his hips. “Wanna ride ya firs’.” And that visual is enough to have him nodding his head frantically and scrambling to grab hold of tattooed hips as he lowers himself down onto his spit-slick cock. He bounces once, twice, three times, apparently testing the waters. It’s a hard and fast pace that’s set after that, and all Arthur can do is lick his lips and watch powerful muscles work themselves up and down on his dick. How he’s lucky enough to be allowed this, he doesn’t know, but it’s all he can do to not just cum right then and there. He’s so close to orgasm, but he knows that he also wants to make this last as long as he possibly can.

He takes control again, flipping them over so Cú Chulainn lands on his back with a soft “oof” and then he’s pushing back inside tight, tight heat. “That’s it, King,” He hears the blonde purr. He takes up a much slower pace than what the other wants, slamming in deep and holding himself there for a moment, then pulling himself out to just his tip. He repeats these actions, driving both himself and the berserker mad with want over the slow and deep pace. He finds his prostate soon after and grinds himself back and forth over it, listening to his moans turn louder and louder with each pass over the sensitive spot. He pulls strong legs up onto his shoulders and practically bends him in half to lean down for a kiss. It’s less kissing and more panting into each other’s mouths as he continues his teasing pace, pressing closer, closer, closer until he feels like he’s never going to be able to tell where he begins and Cú Chulainn ends.

He watches in pleasure as the demi-god takes himself into hand, pumping fast and harsh against his slow and deep thrusts. He knows he’s close as he feels him clench rhythmically around his cock buried deep inside of his ass. “Go ahead and cum,” He breathes into his ear, picking up his pace. He’s less practiced with his movements, chasing the edge of climax. He hears louder moans again as he slams into his prostate over and over again and soon feels ropes of cum splash against his belly and torso. He’s tighter than he’s been and it sends Arthur crashing over the edge, groaning as he spills himself inside of his partner. He steals one last kiss before his orgasm ends and feels Cú Chulainn lazily move his lips back against his own.

The room stills except for the sound of their panted breaths after that. Arthur can't help but to be pleased with himself looking down at Cú Chulainn's blissed out expression. Strong arms reach up to wrap around his torso and pull him down, down, down on top of a heavy breathing chest, heart beats fighting to calm back down. He doesn't know what he's allowed to touch now that they're done- he doesn't want this to just be physical, but he doesn't want to overstep boundaries if it is. There's a warm hand in his hair, petting the short locks there and coaxing him to lay his head down on a hot shoulder. He wonders briefly how Cú Chulainn doesn't burn away with how hot (literally) he's been since he arrived in the room. He’s going soft inside of wet heat, but with the position he’s in, the blonde won’t allow him to pull out.

"Yer thoughts are too loud, ya know?" He hears a husky, fucked out voice in his ear and he can't help but to feel a shiver run down his spine. "Stop thinkin' for a minute, Mr. ‘I-am-the-greatest-born-King.’" He's not sure he can do that until he feels another hand petting up and down his bare back, gently telling him to just rest. He likes this side of Cú Chulainn. He's so soft and open and Arthur wants to see more.

He pulls his head up a little reluctantly, but he has a question he needs to see Cú's face for. "Can I ask you something?"

He sees an amused smile twitch at the corner of his lips and just before the man can answer, the door to the room violently bangs open with a loud whine of "Cú Chu!" accompanying the sound. The sound forces Arthur to rapidly push himself up into a somewhat sitting position, dragging a groan out of his bedmate as he suddenly pulls out, to stare in wide eyes at the woman at the entrance of the chambers. It's Aphrodite and he's horrified by the look of pure joy on her face as she takes in the state they’re in.

"… The flowers worked!" Arthur feels his mouth opening and closing like a fish. He doesn't know how to respond to being caught in someone else's bed sheets. A pillow goes flying across the room to hit her dead center in the chest. “Does that mean I can’t join?” She’s pouting and Arthur can’t even process the question fast enough to respond with a resolute ‘no.’

"Take yer tits elsewhere Aphro. You can wait yer turn." He hears Cú Chulainn grouch from beneath him somewhere at the same time he hears the Goddess in front of them burst out into delighted laughter. He doesn't know what he means by 'her turn' but he doesn't think he wants to know.

"What if Arthur and I just took the same turn? It would be fun,” She’s practically singing now. Another pillow is thrown. This one she catches. "Fine, fine, I'll leave. But I expect you to explain to Bell and Artio why you weren't at mortal movies night! And to give me the details of this sexcapade when you decide to show up since someone doesn’t think threesomes are fun." With that, and a final tossed pillow (how many does the man even have?), she leaves with a flourish of hair and cloth and more skin exposed than he thinks he ever needed to see.

"... Th-Threesome?" He finds himself asking as he turns to look back down. Cú Chulainn still hasn't moved from his spot laying down on the bed. He looks oddly comfortable with the situation that has just unfolded.

“Ignore her. She mostly jests-" Arthur doesn’t think he wants to know what he means by ‘mostly.’ “-she has yet to be successful in crawling in my bed for more than a nap. She’s more an annoyin’ sister than anythin’. Now get back down here and let me sleep," he's yanked back down roughly on top of the slightly smaller man and he's strangely reminded of a cat with the way he clings to him. He's also quickly learning that Cú Chulainn likes to sleep in his spare time of all things.

"What does... this mean?" He needs to know now before he gets his heart broken. He doesn't know if he could bear that. The Celt had already closed his eyes, but he sees him crack one open to look at him rather critically and he feels a shiver run through his spine from the piercing gaze. Those eyes could certainly see right through any man or deity.

"It means I like you, King Arthur. Do ya wan' to make it more complicated than that?" He doesn't know how to answer that and he's sure it shows on his face. "Coul' be a path that leads us to love, coul' be a path that leads us to sadness. Are ya willin' to take tha' risk with me?" More than willing, is his first instinct and he finally understands what the blonde has been trying to get him to realize.

"More than."

"Then rest yer head for tonigh’."

He falls asleep surrounded by a heat that burns brighter than any he's ever witnessed in his life and a warmth that fills his soul with contentment.


Arthur ends up joining the little group of friends for one of their mortal movies nights. He doesn’t understand the movie that’s playing in the slightest and he’s more distracted seeing Cú Chulainn in a scene surrounded by his family anyways. It’s cute, he decides, watching him sit with a large bear curled around his body and his hands working out knots and braids and expertly redoing them.

It’s cute, he decides, seeing Aphrodite see some crazy hairstyle in the movie and decide she needs to see Cú Chulainn with it. Cú Chulainn doesn’t even put up a fight about it, just leans his head back and lets her work.

It’s cute, he decides, when Bellona leans her head on his shoulder and falls asleep curled up to the bear and against Cú Chulainn’s side. Aphrodite continues working on his hair and he simply puts one arm around her shoulders and adjusts himself so she doesn’t get a crick in her neck when she wakes up.

It’s cute, he decides, when Cú Chulainn looks at him, smiles, and pats the only open seat left to his right. He moves over, no armor on for once, and nearly jumps out of his skin when the bear shifts to press up against his back and include him in this family at the same time he feels an arm drape over his shoulders too.

He wants to be a part in this family, he decides, watching the characters on the screen have their happy ending. And maybe, he can bring his own family in to it as well (so long as Merlin is patient enough to deal with Aphrodite).