Figuring It Out
Title: Figuring It Out
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me - they belong to legend and the BBC.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: In which awkward and inexperienced Merlin meets cocky yet equally inexperienced Arthur. And they figure it out. Sort of.
Author's Note: This idea just wouldn't leave me alone...
Thanks to: morbid_sparks, who read this over for me, and put up with my whinging all week.
Figuring It Out
Merlin has lost track of how long he has wanted this. Wanted it while he helped him dress - or undress - brought him food, slept at his side on the hard ground on a hunting trip or expedition.
Perhaps, wanting it so long, he has built it up into something in his head that reality can never match.
Could never match, no matter how good.
And now, now that it is finally happening, Merlin is almost scared to ruin the utterly magical fantasy he has carried so close to his heart. But the reality is that he can’t stop.
Arthur, for all of his cocky comments and man of the world bravado and his reputation, is just as inexperienced as he, just as nervous. With tentative touches and words, he betrays a little-seen shyness, an almost uncharacteristic insecurity.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Merlin had whispered in the heady rush of their first awkward, unexpected - but fantastic - kiss.
Arthur had raised an eyebrow, his lips twisted in a smirk, but moments later all scorn had fallen away, his face softening. “Neither do I,” he had breathed a little sheepishly. “I… No one tells you how things are supposed to go when you fall in love with your manservant.”
Merlin had barely been able to breath, his heart pounding wildly in the wake of that admission. “Then I guess we’ll just have to figure it out together,” he’d said shakily, daring to run his fingers across Arthur’s forehead, brushing back his fringe.
Their second kiss had been even better than the first - and before it happened, Merlin would have sworn that wasn’t possible. That wasn’t it say it had gone smoothly - they had both tilted their heads the same way, their teeth had clacked, and Merlin thought he might have accidentally licked Arthur’s chin - but the feelings it invoked were perfect.
They’d stumbled across the floor of Arthur’s room between kisses three, four and five, Merlin almost ending up flat on his back when he tripped over Arthur’s foot, Arthur’s quick reflexes the only thing saving him.
Now, tangled together on Arthur’s bed, enjoying kisses number Merlin-has-lost-count, unwanted nerves and uncertainties are impinging once again on his consciousness.
“Is the door locked?” he blurts as he pulls back.
Arthur blinks at him dazedly. “Huh?”
It is painfully obvious to Merlin in that moment that Arthur has never had any major secrets to keep. Luckily for them, Merlin has had a lifetime’s experience, and he pointedly ignores the fact that he still hasn’t revealed said secret to Arthur.
That is very definitely a conversation for another time.
“If someone walks in…” is what he says now, instead, trailing off as understanding dawns on Arthur’s face.
“Oh…” Easing his hand out from beneath Merlin’s shoulders, Arthur gets shakily to his feet and crosses to the door, turning the key with a slight clunk.
When he spins back around, resting back against the door, he looks entirely unlike himself. His hair is ruffled, his stance is unsure, and he has a tremulously giddy smile on his face.
Merlin sits up to look at him, and they exchange sappy grins for several minutes before Arthur finds the courage to stride back over to the bed, resting his knees against its edge as he stares down at Merlin.
“Hi,” he says, swaying slightly.
“Hi,” Merlin echoes, feeling a giggly laugh gurgle up in his throat. He shifts over on the bed, sending what he hopes is an inviting smile up at Arthur.
Arthur twists to perch on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots off before sliding across to sit next to Merlin. Fingers trembling so badly that he can barely untie the laces, Merlin follows suit, tossing his boots off the other side of the bed.
They face each other on the bed, a few inches separating their knees, and Merlin licks his lips as he tries to work out his next move. The decision is taken out of his hands when Arthur surges forward, cupping Merlin’s face between his hands as he pushes Merlin onto his back.
Merlin feels his neck jolt slightly as he discovers that the bed stops beneath his shoulders, leaving his head dangling off the edge. He slides a hand around the back of Arthur’s neck to support himself as he pushes up and into Arthur’s kiss.
Such is the pleasure of the kiss - and they’re really getting the hang of this bit now, all hot stroking tongues and soft moans - it is several minutes before the awkward contortion of their tangled legs begins to bother Merlin.
He squirms, trying to free his leg where it is trapped and twisted beneath him. It comes free with a jerk, and a fraction of a second later Arthur yelps. He pulls back, rubbing his thigh with a pained look on his face.
Merlin glances down and realises that an inch higher and he would have accidentally kneed Arthur somewhere really painful. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “Can I… Is there…? Do you want me to kiss it better?” He cringes mentally as they way the words sound, wonders if he should take them back.
But then Arthur reaches out a hand and pulls him up next to him, drags him into a kiss - softer, more tender than any of the others they have shared - and Merlin forgets what he had even been thinking.
“There, you just did,” Arthur grins. “All better.” It is silly and sappy and rather more corny than Merlin could have believed of Arthur, but in that moment, it is right, and Merlin cannot help but grin back.
He pushes Arthur away for a moment, twisting around so that - this time - he falls back with his head on the pillow and his legs stretched out where they should be. Arthur looks puzzled for a second, and then smiles, laying himself out along Merlin’s side.
He is barely there for a second before he pushes up again slightly, reaching one arm over so Merlin is trapped - happily - between his arms, Arthur looming above him. He lets his eyes drift half shut, extending his neck in expectation of Arthur’s lips once against falling on his own.
Arthur drops down, but instead of his lips, Arthur focuses his attention on Merlin’s ear, nipping gently at a lobe. Merlin winces and pulls his head to the side, away from Arthur’s sharp teeth. “Hey!” he protests.
“Sorry.” Arthur looks a little sheepish. “I just… It was just there, asking to be explored… I thought you might like it.”
Merlin can’t quite bring himself to glare at Arthur, not now, but he pokes at his shoulder with a finger. “Well, I don’t,” he says firmly. “No one is putting sharp pointy teeth near my ears, thank you very much.”
Arthur nods dutifully. “Noted.” He sinks into Merlin again, pulling at Merlin’s scarf so he can suck open-mouthed wet kisses into the side of Merlin’s jaw. “How about there?”
Merlin wriggles to align their bodies better and tilts his head back into the pillows to give Arthur better access. “That’s… good,” he replies breathily as Arthur dips lower, exploring his throat. “I…”
He scrabbles at the back of Arthur’s shirt; trying to get at the skin beneath it. He may not know what he is doing, but he suddenly realises that he really wants to touch Arthur everywhere.
Arthur moans against his neck as Merlin manages to get his hands under the shirt, stroking at any piece of hot skin he can reach. This is not the first time he has touched Arthur's body - he has been helping him on and off with clothes and armour for quite some time now, after all - but it feels so much more like this.
Arthur’s hand strokes down Merlin’s side, but his tunic is in the way and at that moment, Merlin wants nothing more than to be rid of it. He slides his hands further up Arthur’s back, rucking up his shirt. “Off,” he mumbles.
He can’t make out Arthur’s reply, as it is muffled into his neck, but when he pulls away and starts tugging at Merlin’s tunic, he gets the gist. He bats at Arthur’s hands, making him let go for long enough that Merlin gets Arthur’s shirt over his head and tossed away; Merlin doesn’t much care where it ends up, even though he knows he will be the one to find it later and make sure it gets cleaned. He is much more interested in the broad expanse of naked Arthur he has revealed.
He runs a finger wonderingly across Arthur’s collar, smiling giddily when the action results in a low groan and a shiver from Arthur. Emboldened, he flattens his palm across Arthur’s shoulder, stroking down his chest, across the raised bump of a nipple. Arthur gasps, and the hand not supporting him grasps into Merlin’s tunic.
“Yours too,” Arthur reminds him gruffly. It takes some tugging to free Merlin’s tunic from his belt, neither of them thinking to just remove the belt until the tunic is already out from under it.
Arthur’s hands are hot against his skin as he runs them up Merlin’s sides, sweeping up the tunic. Merlin’s eyes drift shut as he floats on the sensation - it’s so much more intense than he had ever imagined.
The feeling is interrupted when there is a sharp tug at his chin, and a second later, his ears and mouth are both blocked by fabric. He shakes his head, hoping that will help, but it doesn’t - he’s stuck.
It takes several moments for him to realise why; his neck scarf is still fastened, and his tunic will not come off easily with the scarf in the way. He tries to tell Arthur this, but layers of fabric are in the way.
With some effort, he pushes it back down around his neck; he can see now Arthur’s confused - and slightly worried - expression. “What are you…? I thought…”
“Scarf first,” he says, smiling shyly. Comprehension dawns, and Arthur eagerly helps him untie the knot in it, dropping it beside them on the bed before pulling Merlin’s tunic - smoothly, this time - over his head.
Arthur’s gaze sweeps down his body lingeringly, and Merlin knows he is blushing. He cannot help but feel somewhat self conscious about Arthur’s perusal of his body. He knows he is not toned and muscled like Arthur - skinny and bony are terms more often applied to his frame.
The look in Arthur’s eyes, however, doesn’t seem to say that he minds at all. In fact, the opposite; he looks like he likes it very much.
With courage born entirely from that tenderly lustful look, Merlin pushes up, flipping a surprised Arthur onto his back and settling himself between Arthur’s thighs. He kisses Arthur gently for a long moment before breaking away and slipping down.
Soft flesh fills his vision, and he bites his lip, not knowing quite where to start. He looks up, smiling at Arthur. “Just let me…” He trails off, not knowing quite what it is he is asking, but Arthur nods anyway, apparently willing to put himself entirely in Merlin’s hands.
Merlin presses a soft kiss at the base of Arthur’s throat, where his touch had been so welcomed before, and is pleased to discover the touch of his lips brings an even more beautiful sound from Arthur’s throat.
When he shuffles down a little further, however, the sound is rather more like a stifled giggle. He tries again, and Arthur twists and laughs out loud. “That tickles,” he complains.
“Sorry,” Merlin murmurs, but he is not entirely sincere; he likes to hear Arthur laugh, even if it is ostensibly at him.
“Hey, come back here,” Arthur breaths, gently urging Merlin higher so he can kiss him again. Merlin doesn’t protest; he knows now that he could spend hours, years, kissing Arthur and never tire of it.
It takes a bit of rearrangement - and only one elbow in the ribs - until they are settled just right, Merlin sprawled across Arthur’s chest, their legs intertwined, melded together at every point of contact.
He cannot get enough of Arthur’s skin, and as glorious as this is, Merlin wants more.
There is no room for his fingers between them, he cannot get to the laces of their trousers, but he tries anyway. For a moment he is tempted to just magic them away - he is fairly sure he remembers a spell that will serve the purpose - but he reminds himself that now is not the time for that conversation. Later, he promises himself, later he will come clean.
And if a corner of his mind whispers that he is delaying only on the hope that this act, this newly forged bond, will increase his chances of coming out of that conversation without an execution order over his head, he ignores it.
Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss, sitting up between Arthur’s legs and fumbling at the laces of his own trousers with trembling fingers; he does not think he would manage Arthur’s, as shaky as his hands are, so is relieved when Arthur handles them himself. Merlin does notice that his hands look no steadier than his own. The reminder that Arthur is just as nervous and new to this as he is calms him a little, and he manages to peel himself out of the remainder of his clothes without doing himself an injury.
That first moment, kneeling on the bed, looking down at Arthur and Arthur looking back, both of them finally, finally, naked, takes Merlin’s breath away, freezes him to the spot. It hits him again that this is actually happening. He resists the urge to pinch himself, if this is a dream he does not want to awaken.
Arthur, for his part, seems just as frozen, but it is he who surfaces first, reaching out to grip Merlin’s shoulders gently, guiding Merlin back down against him.
The first touch, as their lips collide along with the rest of their bodies, sends sparks through Merlin’s bloodstream. Every inch of him alive, his hands are everywhere he can reach; Arthur’s are too, exploring Merlin with burning fingers.
When his large hands squeeze Merlin’s buttocks, Merlin cannot contain his groan, his hips jerking against Arthur’s.
The movement brushes their cocks against each other, and that, that sensation is so far beyond Merlin’s imagination that he can barely comprehend it. He does it again, swallowing Arthur’s answering groan in their relentless kiss.
After a few thrusts, Arthur starts moving his own hips up into them; they cannot quite develop a rhythm, neither of them moving steadily enough to do so, but it doesn’t really matter. Merlin still feels the edge approaching far too quickly, and his brain is too blown to hold back, all he can do is hope that Arthur is right there with him.
“Arthur,” he groans gutturally as his muscles begin to jerk involuntarily, “I…”
Lights dance through his vision as he spills himself hotly between them; distantly, he realises that Arthur follows him over the precipice moments later, something that Merlin vaguely identifies as his name on his lips.
He is still draped bonelessly across Arthur when his surroundings reassert themselves. “Well,” he mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss into Arthur’s shoulder.
Arthur hums lazily in question.
Merlin props himself up on one elbow so he can meet Arthur’s heavy-lidded gaze. “I don’t know about you, but if that’s what happens with both of us clueless, I am definitely looking forward to figuring the rest out.”
The End
Comments and concrit are ALWAYS welcomed and loved. :)
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me - they belong to legend and the BBC.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: In which awkward and inexperienced Merlin meets cocky yet equally inexperienced Arthur. And they figure it out. Sort of.
Author's Note: This idea just wouldn't leave me alone...
Thanks to: morbid_sparks, who read this over for me, and put up with my whinging all week.
Figuring It Out
Merlin has lost track of how long he has wanted this. Wanted it while he helped him dress - or undress - brought him food, slept at his side on the hard ground on a hunting trip or expedition.
Perhaps, wanting it so long, he has built it up into something in his head that reality can never match.
Could never match, no matter how good.
And now, now that it is finally happening, Merlin is almost scared to ruin the utterly magical fantasy he has carried so close to his heart. But the reality is that he can’t stop.
Arthur, for all of his cocky comments and man of the world bravado and his reputation, is just as inexperienced as he, just as nervous. With tentative touches and words, he betrays a little-seen shyness, an almost uncharacteristic insecurity.
“I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Merlin had whispered in the heady rush of their first awkward, unexpected - but fantastic - kiss.
Arthur had raised an eyebrow, his lips twisted in a smirk, but moments later all scorn had fallen away, his face softening. “Neither do I,” he had breathed a little sheepishly. “I… No one tells you how things are supposed to go when you fall in love with your manservant.”
Merlin had barely been able to breath, his heart pounding wildly in the wake of that admission. “Then I guess we’ll just have to figure it out together,” he’d said shakily, daring to run his fingers across Arthur’s forehead, brushing back his fringe.
Their second kiss had been even better than the first - and before it happened, Merlin would have sworn that wasn’t possible. That wasn’t it say it had gone smoothly - they had both tilted their heads the same way, their teeth had clacked, and Merlin thought he might have accidentally licked Arthur’s chin - but the feelings it invoked were perfect.
They’d stumbled across the floor of Arthur’s room between kisses three, four and five, Merlin almost ending up flat on his back when he tripped over Arthur’s foot, Arthur’s quick reflexes the only thing saving him.
Now, tangled together on Arthur’s bed, enjoying kisses number Merlin-has-lost-count, unwanted nerves and uncertainties are impinging once again on his consciousness.
“Is the door locked?” he blurts as he pulls back.
Arthur blinks at him dazedly. “Huh?”
It is painfully obvious to Merlin in that moment that Arthur has never had any major secrets to keep. Luckily for them, Merlin has had a lifetime’s experience, and he pointedly ignores the fact that he still hasn’t revealed said secret to Arthur.
That is very definitely a conversation for another time.
“If someone walks in…” is what he says now, instead, trailing off as understanding dawns on Arthur’s face.
“Oh…” Easing his hand out from beneath Merlin’s shoulders, Arthur gets shakily to his feet and crosses to the door, turning the key with a slight clunk.
When he spins back around, resting back against the door, he looks entirely unlike himself. His hair is ruffled, his stance is unsure, and he has a tremulously giddy smile on his face.
Merlin sits up to look at him, and they exchange sappy grins for several minutes before Arthur finds the courage to stride back over to the bed, resting his knees against its edge as he stares down at Merlin.
“Hi,” he says, swaying slightly.
“Hi,” Merlin echoes, feeling a giggly laugh gurgle up in his throat. He shifts over on the bed, sending what he hopes is an inviting smile up at Arthur.
Arthur twists to perch on the edge of the bed, pulling his boots off before sliding across to sit next to Merlin. Fingers trembling so badly that he can barely untie the laces, Merlin follows suit, tossing his boots off the other side of the bed.
They face each other on the bed, a few inches separating their knees, and Merlin licks his lips as he tries to work out his next move. The decision is taken out of his hands when Arthur surges forward, cupping Merlin’s face between his hands as he pushes Merlin onto his back.
Merlin feels his neck jolt slightly as he discovers that the bed stops beneath his shoulders, leaving his head dangling off the edge. He slides a hand around the back of Arthur’s neck to support himself as he pushes up and into Arthur’s kiss.
Such is the pleasure of the kiss - and they’re really getting the hang of this bit now, all hot stroking tongues and soft moans - it is several minutes before the awkward contortion of their tangled legs begins to bother Merlin.
He squirms, trying to free his leg where it is trapped and twisted beneath him. It comes free with a jerk, and a fraction of a second later Arthur yelps. He pulls back, rubbing his thigh with a pained look on his face.
Merlin glances down and realises that an inch higher and he would have accidentally kneed Arthur somewhere really painful. “Sorry,” he says quietly. “Can I… Is there…? Do you want me to kiss it better?” He cringes mentally as they way the words sound, wonders if he should take them back.
But then Arthur reaches out a hand and pulls him up next to him, drags him into a kiss - softer, more tender than any of the others they have shared - and Merlin forgets what he had even been thinking.
“There, you just did,” Arthur grins. “All better.” It is silly and sappy and rather more corny than Merlin could have believed of Arthur, but in that moment, it is right, and Merlin cannot help but grin back.
He pushes Arthur away for a moment, twisting around so that - this time - he falls back with his head on the pillow and his legs stretched out where they should be. Arthur looks puzzled for a second, and then smiles, laying himself out along Merlin’s side.
He is barely there for a second before he pushes up again slightly, reaching one arm over so Merlin is trapped - happily - between his arms, Arthur looming above him. He lets his eyes drift half shut, extending his neck in expectation of Arthur’s lips once against falling on his own.
Arthur drops down, but instead of his lips, Arthur focuses his attention on Merlin’s ear, nipping gently at a lobe. Merlin winces and pulls his head to the side, away from Arthur’s sharp teeth. “Hey!” he protests.
“Sorry.” Arthur looks a little sheepish. “I just… It was just there, asking to be explored… I thought you might like it.”
Merlin can’t quite bring himself to glare at Arthur, not now, but he pokes at his shoulder with a finger. “Well, I don’t,” he says firmly. “No one is putting sharp pointy teeth near my ears, thank you very much.”
Arthur nods dutifully. “Noted.” He sinks into Merlin again, pulling at Merlin’s scarf so he can suck open-mouthed wet kisses into the side of Merlin’s jaw. “How about there?”
Merlin wriggles to align their bodies better and tilts his head back into the pillows to give Arthur better access. “That’s… good,” he replies breathily as Arthur dips lower, exploring his throat. “I…”
He scrabbles at the back of Arthur’s shirt; trying to get at the skin beneath it. He may not know what he is doing, but he suddenly realises that he really wants to touch Arthur everywhere.
Arthur moans against his neck as Merlin manages to get his hands under the shirt, stroking at any piece of hot skin he can reach. This is not the first time he has touched Arthur's body - he has been helping him on and off with clothes and armour for quite some time now, after all - but it feels so much more like this.
Arthur’s hand strokes down Merlin’s side, but his tunic is in the way and at that moment, Merlin wants nothing more than to be rid of it. He slides his hands further up Arthur’s back, rucking up his shirt. “Off,” he mumbles.
He can’t make out Arthur’s reply, as it is muffled into his neck, but when he pulls away and starts tugging at Merlin’s tunic, he gets the gist. He bats at Arthur’s hands, making him let go for long enough that Merlin gets Arthur’s shirt over his head and tossed away; Merlin doesn’t much care where it ends up, even though he knows he will be the one to find it later and make sure it gets cleaned. He is much more interested in the broad expanse of naked Arthur he has revealed.
He runs a finger wonderingly across Arthur’s collar, smiling giddily when the action results in a low groan and a shiver from Arthur. Emboldened, he flattens his palm across Arthur’s shoulder, stroking down his chest, across the raised bump of a nipple. Arthur gasps, and the hand not supporting him grasps into Merlin’s tunic.
“Yours too,” Arthur reminds him gruffly. It takes some tugging to free Merlin’s tunic from his belt, neither of them thinking to just remove the belt until the tunic is already out from under it.
Arthur’s hands are hot against his skin as he runs them up Merlin’s sides, sweeping up the tunic. Merlin’s eyes drift shut as he floats on the sensation - it’s so much more intense than he had ever imagined.
The feeling is interrupted when there is a sharp tug at his chin, and a second later, his ears and mouth are both blocked by fabric. He shakes his head, hoping that will help, but it doesn’t - he’s stuck.
It takes several moments for him to realise why; his neck scarf is still fastened, and his tunic will not come off easily with the scarf in the way. He tries to tell Arthur this, but layers of fabric are in the way.
With some effort, he pushes it back down around his neck; he can see now Arthur’s confused - and slightly worried - expression. “What are you…? I thought…”
“Scarf first,” he says, smiling shyly. Comprehension dawns, and Arthur eagerly helps him untie the knot in it, dropping it beside them on the bed before pulling Merlin’s tunic - smoothly, this time - over his head.
Arthur’s gaze sweeps down his body lingeringly, and Merlin knows he is blushing. He cannot help but feel somewhat self conscious about Arthur’s perusal of his body. He knows he is not toned and muscled like Arthur - skinny and bony are terms more often applied to his frame.
The look in Arthur’s eyes, however, doesn’t seem to say that he minds at all. In fact, the opposite; he looks like he likes it very much.
With courage born entirely from that tenderly lustful look, Merlin pushes up, flipping a surprised Arthur onto his back and settling himself between Arthur’s thighs. He kisses Arthur gently for a long moment before breaking away and slipping down.
Soft flesh fills his vision, and he bites his lip, not knowing quite where to start. He looks up, smiling at Arthur. “Just let me…” He trails off, not knowing quite what it is he is asking, but Arthur nods anyway, apparently willing to put himself entirely in Merlin’s hands.
Merlin presses a soft kiss at the base of Arthur’s throat, where his touch had been so welcomed before, and is pleased to discover the touch of his lips brings an even more beautiful sound from Arthur’s throat.
When he shuffles down a little further, however, the sound is rather more like a stifled giggle. He tries again, and Arthur twists and laughs out loud. “That tickles,” he complains.
“Sorry,” Merlin murmurs, but he is not entirely sincere; he likes to hear Arthur laugh, even if it is ostensibly at him.
“Hey, come back here,” Arthur breaths, gently urging Merlin higher so he can kiss him again. Merlin doesn’t protest; he knows now that he could spend hours, years, kissing Arthur and never tire of it.
It takes a bit of rearrangement - and only one elbow in the ribs - until they are settled just right, Merlin sprawled across Arthur’s chest, their legs intertwined, melded together at every point of contact.
He cannot get enough of Arthur’s skin, and as glorious as this is, Merlin wants more.
There is no room for his fingers between them, he cannot get to the laces of their trousers, but he tries anyway. For a moment he is tempted to just magic them away - he is fairly sure he remembers a spell that will serve the purpose - but he reminds himself that now is not the time for that conversation. Later, he promises himself, later he will come clean.
And if a corner of his mind whispers that he is delaying only on the hope that this act, this newly forged bond, will increase his chances of coming out of that conversation without an execution order over his head, he ignores it.
Reluctantly, he breaks the kiss, sitting up between Arthur’s legs and fumbling at the laces of his own trousers with trembling fingers; he does not think he would manage Arthur’s, as shaky as his hands are, so is relieved when Arthur handles them himself. Merlin does notice that his hands look no steadier than his own. The reminder that Arthur is just as nervous and new to this as he is calms him a little, and he manages to peel himself out of the remainder of his clothes without doing himself an injury.
That first moment, kneeling on the bed, looking down at Arthur and Arthur looking back, both of them finally, finally, naked, takes Merlin’s breath away, freezes him to the spot. It hits him again that this is actually happening. He resists the urge to pinch himself, if this is a dream he does not want to awaken.
Arthur, for his part, seems just as frozen, but it is he who surfaces first, reaching out to grip Merlin’s shoulders gently, guiding Merlin back down against him.
The first touch, as their lips collide along with the rest of their bodies, sends sparks through Merlin’s bloodstream. Every inch of him alive, his hands are everywhere he can reach; Arthur’s are too, exploring Merlin with burning fingers.
When his large hands squeeze Merlin’s buttocks, Merlin cannot contain his groan, his hips jerking against Arthur’s.
The movement brushes their cocks against each other, and that, that sensation is so far beyond Merlin’s imagination that he can barely comprehend it. He does it again, swallowing Arthur’s answering groan in their relentless kiss.
After a few thrusts, Arthur starts moving his own hips up into them; they cannot quite develop a rhythm, neither of them moving steadily enough to do so, but it doesn’t really matter. Merlin still feels the edge approaching far too quickly, and his brain is too blown to hold back, all he can do is hope that Arthur is right there with him.
“Arthur,” he groans gutturally as his muscles begin to jerk involuntarily, “I…”
Lights dance through his vision as he spills himself hotly between them; distantly, he realises that Arthur follows him over the precipice moments later, something that Merlin vaguely identifies as his name on his lips.
He is still draped bonelessly across Arthur when his surroundings reassert themselves. “Well,” he mumbles, pressing a chaste kiss into Arthur’s shoulder.
Arthur hums lazily in question.
Merlin props himself up on one elbow so he can meet Arthur’s heavy-lidded gaze. “I don’t know about you, but if that’s what happens with both of us clueless, I am definitely looking forward to figuring the rest out.”
The End
Comments and concrit are ALWAYS welcomed and loved. :)