Archive of Our Own ^beta

“My lord, are you nearly done with the sword?” the goblin silversmith asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Sweat beaded down from his head, the hair at his temples sticking to his face. Magic was swirling around them as Godric hammered down onto the steel, muttering incantations, the fire blazing, the anvil hot.

“Almost,” he answered, letting the heavy tool rest on the anvil. “I only have to work out the kinks.”

The silversmith gave him a nod and disappeared again. Godric lifted the hammer, ready to finally complete his task. He knew combining the actual physical labor with the magical kind was the only way to craft a truly remarkable sword, but he had severely underestimated the amount of work he had to put in.

“I like a little praise and degradation."

His hand halted high in the sky. Where did that -

“Call me your dirty little slut before telling me I'm a such a good sword, you know.”

Sw - sword?

“Congratulations,” the voice said, way too happy, “we are now mentally connected.”

“I am mentally connected with a sword?” Godric asked, more to himself than - well asking the sword would be ridiculous, right?

“Yes, you only have yourself to blame, honestly. That bit of legilimency magic wasn't really necessary, but I appreciate it nonetheless. Where were we, yes, kinks! I'm not really partial to feet, but a good juicy behind? Oh, and certainly don't forget to grip me tightly. Might as well say, choke me, daddy.”

The hammer fell to the ground

Merlin's balls.

“Nah, can do without his balls too. They go into the same category as feet.”

Godric eyed the sword, resting on the anvil, looking like any other sword, safe for the extravagant handle. 

“Everything alright?” another goblin peeped around the corner.

Godric hastily grabbed his hammer from the ground. 

“Yes, yes.” He muttered, raising his tool and letting it clatter down on the steel.

Harder - the voice in his mind said. He raised his hammer again and when it came into contact with the sword again, there was a whimper resonating in his skull

Godric let out a defeated sigh.

Just his fucking luck. 

“So, when do you take me to slain thy enemies?”

Just. His. Fucking. Luck.

***

Godric quickly found out he was only safe from the sword's constant blabbermouthing and its extremely dirty mind when they were literal hours apart. Their mental connection had quite the range and if it had been normal circumstances, Godric would be utterly intrigued.

Alas, the circumstances were… different.

“Have you taken a good look at Ro her arse?” Sword asked as they walked behind Rowena. “I reckon it's nice and plump.”

Godric bit his tongue and tried not to even think about his friend's arse.

See, the problem was, he didn't have to actively think or say something, just the hint of a thought was enough. He had been working on his occlumency, strengthening his mental barrières, and still, Sword knew everything.

It was as if he had himself in his head as a 16 year old discovering what one might be able to do with a witch.

It was bloody fucking annoying. 

“We both know you've been looking at her arse mate, this silent treatment isn't getting you anywhere, I'm just going to fill up the silence.”

Godric willed his mind blank. Ro swaying her hips in front of him made that rather… hard.

“I know something else that's hard.”

“For the love of the gods,” Godric muttered, making Rowena look back at him with her eyebrows raised.

“Something the matter, Gryff?’ She asked, her mind already working on the puzzle he had given her by 1) being absentminded and 2) by muttering like an idiot.

“Nothing, Ro, please, let's go check out that castle.”

Rowena pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes, clearly conveying she didn't believe him, but said nothing.

“Can Ro be our mommy, please? I'll be such a good sword for her.”

Godric rolled his eyes before threatening to melt the sword into toothpicks.

The gasp that came was so loud, his ears were ringing. “You wouldn't dare!” Sword exclaimed.

“Watch me,” Godric muttered, low enough that Rowena wouldn't hear.

Fucking watch me.

***

He had left the sword at home, trying to get a little bit reprieve, a rest from its constant stream of yapping. Godric had planned on going home again but the moment he noticed Sword's voice getting duller the more Ogdens he ingested, he decided he deserved a *full* night of.

Nearly two bottles later he stumbled to the second floor, the pub thankfully having a vacancy. Godric hardly made it up the bloody stairs but oh, how nice it was to have his mind for himself again.

He stripped down completely bare, something he also didn't usually do anymore because as if his sword was watching - which, to be honest, it probably did, the kinky bastard - before getting in the bed.

The crisp white sheets felt like heaven on his warm skin and Godric let out a deep and content sigh. The pillow was of perfect down, the duvet slightly heavy, pushing him into the mattress.

Without thinking his hand went to his cock.

Merlin be damned, he hadn't even bloody jerked himself ever since connecting with the sword.

His blood started thrumming, his magic pulsing, his cock growing, growing to the size it filled his hand up flawlessly. In a lazy rhythm, Godric pumps himself, making him grow even harder. His thumb swept over the top, smearing the precum all over himself.

“Yes daddy, that's it.”

The now overly familiar voice suddenly pierced his mind and Godric swore out loud.

“Good grief mate, it's not as if I'm sticking my handle up your arse.”

Godric wanted to say there was nothing going up his arse but the way his cock started throbbing…

“Or you know, if you'd like, feel free to do put it up your arse, you know, probably better than the pointy end.”

It took him all his faculties not to scream in frustration, roll his eyes and throw the damn bloody sword in the Black Lake.

“Aww, don't stop on my account. I might even say you need it, maybe you'll be less of a cunt after an orgasm. Speaking of cunts and putting me places, how's Ro doing this evening?”

Godric wanted to say Sword should shut the fuck up but then he imagined the gemstone inlayed handle slowly pressing into Rowena's sopping cunt, wetting the rubies, making them glisten.

“Fuck yea,” the sword panted. “You're as hard as me now, right Gryff? I can almost feel it - fuck - squeeze a bit harder, like you're holding me.”

Godric gave up and gave in.

“Imagine us both filling her, Gryff. Your balls slapping against my guards when you bottom out in her. That plump juicy arse of hers like puddy in your hands.”

He closed his eyes, his hand working his cock like it never had before. Godric could feel himself thickening, his blood pounding in his ears, his fingers slick with precum. His orgasm was building like the perfect storm, slowly and steady, with the promise of something intense coming.

Suddenly, something solid, slightly chilled and rounded nudged against his arsehole, not quite breaching him, but giving him just the right amount of pressure to come with a roar worthy of a lion.

The moment he came to his senses, he realised it had been his sword. Massive loads of cum stuck to the sheets as he looked down and watched the silver laying between his legs.

“Why are you here?”

“I come to those in need.”