Speak to Me: fanfic
Title: Speak To Me
Authors:
jelazakazone and
lewisian_gneiss
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings/characters: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R
Word Count: about 700
Warnings: Allusion to D/s relationship
Summary: Arthur responds to Merlin’s Dragonspeak commands.
Disclaimer: We do not own these characters and are not intending to profit from them
Authors’ notes: This is for universaldogma . She and jelazakazone were having a discussion about needing fic with an Arthur who had a kink for Dragonspeak:D
As they snuggle under the covers for the night, enjoying the warmth from each other’s bodies in contrast to the cold air they are breathing, Arthur asks, “What other secrets have you been hiding from me?” Merlin, spooned against Arthur’s chest, says, “Remember the night you vanquished the Great Dragon from Camelot?” Merlin feels Arthur’s chest expand as he proudly says, “Of course!” Merlin says, very softly, “Well, um, actually I sent the dragon off. I’m a Dragonlord.” Arthur’s mind casts back to that night in Camelot and he remembers.....
When Arthur first heard the cry, the animalistic roar, while fading in and out of consciousness on the field below Camelot, he thought he’d dreamt it. The cry sounded not just in his ears, but within his head. He felt the power, the mastery, the claiming in the words. He knew it for a commanding voice that would be obeyed, but he hadn’t known who or what had made the calls, the roar.
Now Arthur gazes at Merlin with renewed and deepening awe. Merlin observes his reaction carefully, gauging his next words. “Shall I call for you, Chief Dragon?” At Arthur’s hesitant, excited nod, Merlin sits up, looking first at the anticipation on Arthur’s face, before turning his own to the heavens, and calling. The language, the words, rumble through Arthur's body, as Merlin calls in dragonspeak to his Pendragon.
His body responds to the depth of the roar: he hears the deep noise crashing in his ears; the sounds thrum through him, shaking his body like an earthquake unsettling the ground beneath his feet. His knees soften and his stomach flips, as though the floor has just dropped out from under him. Arthur would swear that a breeze was lifting the hairs on his arms and making him feel slightly shivery, but not cold.
His mind responds to the intimacy of the roar reverberating directly within his head. The guttural pulse of the language stutters through his brain, catching on his thoughts and raising his pulse. The words are alien, unknown, and their timbre lilts into his mind like a promise; exotic, their foreignness pulling them just out of his reach. But though he doesn’t know the language, he understands.
His cock responds to the commanding power of the tone. Heat pools in his groin despite the cool of the evening air, and he feels his prick begin to fill. As a trainer and leader of fighting men he recognises authority, absolute and unquestioned authority born from paternal blood inheritance, from strength, from courage and from power. He is humbled and hardening in the face of a dominance deeper than his own.
Arthur looks at Merlin - his lover, friend and servant - and knows that he wants to, no, he needs to obey Merlin. This voice, this language, these spells command the Great Dragon; he cannot resist, even if he wanted to. Arthur knows his Dragonlord could command him too, if he desires it. And he does desire that: the trembling through his limbs brings his body to immediate focus, the way his mind curls around the words and already knows their meaning, and the heat of arousal engorging his cock: all of his being is responding to the voice, to the new voice Merlin is sharing with him.
Arthur hears the strength of Merlin’s voice move from the original roaring summons of ‘Dragorn’ into firm commands. As Merlin moves to gentle coaxing, Arthur feels utterly pliant. His Dragonlord is caring and safe. Arthur needs to have control, to plan and to take responsibility; he aches with the knowledge that his lover could lead him, that he could relinquish and release himself. Merlin has a great power, and Arthur watches him, awed by the new knowledge. Merlin addresses Arthur carefully, with a questioning inflection: “Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice?”(1) The words ring around his mind: their unfamiliar sounds becoming meaningful to him. “Oh yes,” he breathes. He feels lighter as he gives himself over to his lover. Merlin repeats himself, firmly this time, “Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice.” Arthur knows that things will not be the same between them. And he is glad.
1) = obey me and follow my will, for I have you under my power
Authors:
jelazakazone and
lewisian_gneiss
Fandom: Merlin
Pairings/characters: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: R
Word Count: about 700
Warnings: Allusion to D/s relationship
Summary: Arthur responds to Merlin’s Dragonspeak commands.
Disclaimer: We do not own these characters and are not intending to profit from them
Authors’ notes: This is for universaldogma . She and jelazakazone were having a discussion about needing fic with an Arthur who had a kink for Dragonspeak:D
As they snuggle under the covers for the night, enjoying the warmth from each other’s bodies in contrast to the cold air they are breathing, Arthur asks, “What other secrets have you been hiding from me?” Merlin, spooned against Arthur’s chest, says, “Remember the night you vanquished the Great Dragon from Camelot?” Merlin feels Arthur’s chest expand as he proudly says, “Of course!” Merlin says, very softly, “Well, um, actually I sent the dragon off. I’m a Dragonlord.” Arthur’s mind casts back to that night in Camelot and he remembers.....
When Arthur first heard the cry, the animalistic roar, while fading in and out of consciousness on the field below Camelot, he thought he’d dreamt it. The cry sounded not just in his ears, but within his head. He felt the power, the mastery, the claiming in the words. He knew it for a commanding voice that would be obeyed, but he hadn’t known who or what had made the calls, the roar.
Now Arthur gazes at Merlin with renewed and deepening awe. Merlin observes his reaction carefully, gauging his next words. “Shall I call for you, Chief Dragon?” At Arthur’s hesitant, excited nod, Merlin sits up, looking first at the anticipation on Arthur’s face, before turning his own to the heavens, and calling. The language, the words, rumble through Arthur's body, as Merlin calls in dragonspeak to his Pendragon.
His body responds to the depth of the roar: he hears the deep noise crashing in his ears; the sounds thrum through him, shaking his body like an earthquake unsettling the ground beneath his feet. His knees soften and his stomach flips, as though the floor has just dropped out from under him. Arthur would swear that a breeze was lifting the hairs on his arms and making him feel slightly shivery, but not cold.
His mind responds to the intimacy of the roar reverberating directly within his head. The guttural pulse of the language stutters through his brain, catching on his thoughts and raising his pulse. The words are alien, unknown, and their timbre lilts into his mind like a promise; exotic, their foreignness pulling them just out of his reach. But though he doesn’t know the language, he understands.
His cock responds to the commanding power of the tone. Heat pools in his groin despite the cool of the evening air, and he feels his prick begin to fill. As a trainer and leader of fighting men he recognises authority, absolute and unquestioned authority born from paternal blood inheritance, from strength, from courage and from power. He is humbled and hardening in the face of a dominance deeper than his own.
Arthur looks at Merlin - his lover, friend and servant - and knows that he wants to, no, he needs to obey Merlin. This voice, this language, these spells command the Great Dragon; he cannot resist, even if he wanted to. Arthur knows his Dragonlord could command him too, if he desires it. And he does desire that: the trembling through his limbs brings his body to immediate focus, the way his mind curls around the words and already knows their meaning, and the heat of arousal engorging his cock: all of his being is responding to the voice, to the new voice Merlin is sharing with him.
Arthur hears the strength of Merlin’s voice move from the original roaring summons of ‘Dragorn’ into firm commands. As Merlin moves to gentle coaxing, Arthur feels utterly pliant. His Dragonlord is caring and safe. Arthur needs to have control, to plan and to take responsibility; he aches with the knowledge that his lover could lead him, that he could relinquish and release himself. Merlin has a great power, and Arthur watches him, awed by the new knowledge. Merlin addresses Arthur carefully, with a questioning inflection: “Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice?”(1) The words ring around his mind: their unfamiliar sounds becoming meaningful to him. “Oh yes,” he breathes. He feels lighter as he gives himself over to his lover. Merlin repeats himself, firmly this time, “Géate cyre. Mé tácen átende diegollice.” Arthur knows that things will not be the same between them. And he is glad.
1) = obey me and follow my will, for I have you under my power