Ficlet: Never Enough
Title: Never Enough
Pairings: Leon/Gwaine, implied Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 728
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Neither of them are really sure what they want.
Disclaimer: Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made.
AN: Written for week 4 at summerpornathon, before S3 aired.
Leon watches from the side.
Steel glances off steel, the sound echoing through the training field as the two knights battle. The one on the left is Arthur; the one opposite is the new knight Gwaine. He's good, better than Leon was in the beginning, and he manages to hold his own.
"Amazing, isn't he?" Merlin breathes quietly from beside him, eyes on Arthur; Leon makes a noncommittal sound.
When the fight ends Arthur is unsurprisingly the victor, and Merlin hurries to take his sword and hand him a skin of water. Gwaine slips his helmet off and wipes the back of his hand over his sweaty face. He glances over and Leon's stomach clenches at being caught watching. Sure enough, an arrogant grin appears on Gwaine's face and he immediately walks over.
"Like what you see?" he asks, sticking his sword point in the ground and leaning on the hilt.
Leon snorts. "Your footwork is shoddy and your parries weak. You'd be dead in a real fight within five minutes."
Gwaine's smile slips, but it quickly twists back up into a smirk. "Care to give it a go with me, then? Show me your…experience?"
Something hot furls in Leon's stomach; he can't tell if it's arousal or adrenaline. His sword is heavy against his thigh and he makes a split second decision, reaching for where his helmet is resting on the fence.
"Let's go."
*
It ends in a draw, both of them with their swords against the other's neck, gasping for breath and sweat rolling down their faces. They had lost their helmets at some point, and now they stand face to face, eyes locked, swords steady.
"That's enough," Arthur's voice rings across the field. "The tournament starts tomorrow. Put your swords away and go get ready for the opening feast."
Leon drags in another ragged breath and after a second he raises his sword, stepping back. He nods shortly to Gwaine and turns in the direction of the castle.
*
The feast is the same as always, with an abundance of food and the wine flowing freely. Leon normally enjoys them but tonight he feels stifled, overheated, something itching just beneath the surface of his skin. Every time he turns he sees Gwaine, even when he isn't looking for him.
Arthur and Merlin disappeared nearly an hour ago and have yet to reappear, so Leon feels it acceptable to down his third cup of wine and leave. He makes his way to the armoury, collapsing onto a bench in one of the shadowed corners and closing his eyes, leaning his spinning head against the cool stone wall.
He waits.
*
The footsteps are soft when they come, barely there as they cross the room to him.
"Hello, darling," a low, sarcastic voice breathes in his ear, the scent of wine strong.
Leon shivers and opens his eyes. "You're drunk."
"Only a little," Gwaine agrees, straddling Leon's lap and immediately sliding his hands down to pluck at the laces of Leon's breeches. "So are you."
Leon can't argue with that, so he buries one hand in Gwaine's hair and pulls him into a hard kiss. It's like this between them every time, biting and rough, and it never fails to leave Leon feeling empty and drained and craving more.
He always, always wants more.
Gwaine has finally gotten Leon's breeches open, freeing his half-hard cock, and Leon shudders as long fingers wrap around him. He bites down on Gwaine's bottom lip and fumbles his way into the man's trousers to grip his hard length. They work each other quickly, precome providing the only slickness for the heated strokes. Gwaine pants into Leon's ear and rocks forward, and the fingers of Leon's free hand dig deep into the flesh of his hip. It doesn't take long for Leon to come, cursing as he spills over, and Gwaine follows a few strokes later with a stuttering groan.
A heavy silence falls soon after; Leon can feel their mixed come on the exposed skin of his stomach.
Eventually Gwaine clears his throat and slides from Leon's lap, tucking himself back into his breeches. "Tomorrow?" he asks, not meeting Leon's eyes.
And that, that's different. They don't do this more than once per week.
Leon pauses, and then says, "Alright. Tomorrow."
Gwaine nods and disappears, leaving Leon bereft and confused.
Pairings: Leon/Gwaine, implied Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 728
Warnings/Spoilers: none
Summary: Neither of them are really sure what they want.
Disclaimer: Merlin is owned by the BBC and Shine. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made.
AN: Written for week 4 at summerpornathon, before S3 aired.
Leon watches from the side.
Steel glances off steel, the sound echoing through the training field as the two knights battle. The one on the left is Arthur; the one opposite is the new knight Gwaine. He's good, better than Leon was in the beginning, and he manages to hold his own.
"Amazing, isn't he?" Merlin breathes quietly from beside him, eyes on Arthur; Leon makes a noncommittal sound.
When the fight ends Arthur is unsurprisingly the victor, and Merlin hurries to take his sword and hand him a skin of water. Gwaine slips his helmet off and wipes the back of his hand over his sweaty face. He glances over and Leon's stomach clenches at being caught watching. Sure enough, an arrogant grin appears on Gwaine's face and he immediately walks over.
"Like what you see?" he asks, sticking his sword point in the ground and leaning on the hilt.
Leon snorts. "Your footwork is shoddy and your parries weak. You'd be dead in a real fight within five minutes."
Gwaine's smile slips, but it quickly twists back up into a smirk. "Care to give it a go with me, then? Show me your…experience?"
Something hot furls in Leon's stomach; he can't tell if it's arousal or adrenaline. His sword is heavy against his thigh and he makes a split second decision, reaching for where his helmet is resting on the fence.
"Let's go."
*
It ends in a draw, both of them with their swords against the other's neck, gasping for breath and sweat rolling down their faces. They had lost their helmets at some point, and now they stand face to face, eyes locked, swords steady.
"That's enough," Arthur's voice rings across the field. "The tournament starts tomorrow. Put your swords away and go get ready for the opening feast."
Leon drags in another ragged breath and after a second he raises his sword, stepping back. He nods shortly to Gwaine and turns in the direction of the castle.
*
The feast is the same as always, with an abundance of food and the wine flowing freely. Leon normally enjoys them but tonight he feels stifled, overheated, something itching just beneath the surface of his skin. Every time he turns he sees Gwaine, even when he isn't looking for him.
Arthur and Merlin disappeared nearly an hour ago and have yet to reappear, so Leon feels it acceptable to down his third cup of wine and leave. He makes his way to the armoury, collapsing onto a bench in one of the shadowed corners and closing his eyes, leaning his spinning head against the cool stone wall.
He waits.
*
The footsteps are soft when they come, barely there as they cross the room to him.
"Hello, darling," a low, sarcastic voice breathes in his ear, the scent of wine strong.
Leon shivers and opens his eyes. "You're drunk."
"Only a little," Gwaine agrees, straddling Leon's lap and immediately sliding his hands down to pluck at the laces of Leon's breeches. "So are you."
Leon can't argue with that, so he buries one hand in Gwaine's hair and pulls him into a hard kiss. It's like this between them every time, biting and rough, and it never fails to leave Leon feeling empty and drained and craving more.
He always, always wants more.
Gwaine has finally gotten Leon's breeches open, freeing his half-hard cock, and Leon shudders as long fingers wrap around him. He bites down on Gwaine's bottom lip and fumbles his way into the man's trousers to grip his hard length. They work each other quickly, precome providing the only slickness for the heated strokes. Gwaine pants into Leon's ear and rocks forward, and the fingers of Leon's free hand dig deep into the flesh of his hip. It doesn't take long for Leon to come, cursing as he spills over, and Gwaine follows a few strokes later with a stuttering groan.
A heavy silence falls soon after; Leon can feel their mixed come on the exposed skin of his stomach.
Eventually Gwaine clears his throat and slides from Leon's lap, tucking himself back into his breeches. "Tomorrow?" he asks, not meeting Leon's eyes.
And that, that's different. They don't do this more than once per week.
Leon pauses, and then says, "Alright. Tomorrow."
Gwaine nods and disappears, leaving Leon bereft and confused.