Fic: Tingle
Title: Tingle
Rating:NC-17
Summary: After the third time they nearly got caught during sex, Arthur realized Merlin probably has some sort of fetish. From the Kinkme_Merlin prompt
Author’s Note: Pretty much as posted on meme but with a few glaring errors corrected. Otherwise unbetaed and unedited.
The first time Arthur didn’t really think anything of it. He’d been away far longer than he’d anticipated when Merlin met him in the stables, pushed him into the furthermost stall and shoved his hand down Arthur’s breeches, bringing him off with hot gasps into his neck, barely masked by the occasional whinny of the horses and the sound of the stable boys unloading the wagon out in the courtyard. Such urgency might not have been particularly dignified, but they were both young and had only had the company of their own right hands for nearly a fortnight. Plus, Arthur thought later when he caught sight of himself in the looking glass, he really couldn’t blame Merlin for wanting to touch such princely magnificence.
*
Arthur’s not sure how the second time even started. He’d bumped into Merlin skulking around one of the passageways in the depths of the dungeons and had barely managed to get as far as demanding, “What are…?” before Merlin leant in and silenced him with a filthy kiss and shoved him up against the wall, his whole wiry body pressed up against Arthur, pushing a leg between Arthur’s thighs. Arthur groaned shamelessly into Merlin’s mouth and thrust his hips forward, revelling in the delicious friction as he rubbed his rapidly hardening cock against Merlin’s leg. Arthur reached out, his hands slipping past Merlin’s bony hips and grabbing his arse.
“Impatient.” Merlin said in a huff of breath as he dipped his head to bite Arthur gently at the base of his neck, just where the skin disappeared under his tunic. Arthur arched forwards again and felt something dig into him. Something that wasn’t Merlin’s erection or his sharp hipbone.
“What is that?” he demanded.
Merlin shifted backwards and dug into his pocket until he pulled out a small jar of oil. He held it up in front of Arthur’s face so the dim torchlight glinted off the glass and grinned. “Always prepared.”
In most other circumstances, Arthur would have at least paused to consider why a person might be wandering the dungeons at night with a vial of oil in their pocket, but this was Merlin, who was pressing the vial insistently into Arthur’s hand and mouthing hot promises along his jawline. By the time Arthur’s brain caught up with him, he’d manoeuvred Merlin across the small width of the corridor, pressed him up against the wall and was pawing ineffectually at the knotted laces of Merlin’s breeches.
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin whined.
Arthur gave a final tug at the laces, snapping them, and gave a small cry of triumph as he pushed Merlin’s breeches and thinning undershorts down over his hips. “Turn around,” Arthur ordered gently and Merlin did, steadying himself with both palms against the wall, shaking in delicious anticipation as Arthur uncorked the vial and tipped oil over his hand.
“Come on, Arthur!” Merlin whined again as Arthur teased gently at his entrance with a slick finger until Merlin couldn’t stand it any more and rocked backwards, forcing the tip of Arthur’s finger inside him.
From there on it was a bit of blur, Arthur couldn’t remember how they’d knocked the torch over, sending the flame sputtering into nothingness and leaving them in almost complete darkness except for the occasional flicker from the torches lighting the main corridor. He only vaguely remembered pushing his own breeches down and pushing forwards, filling Merlin with his cock, overwhelmed by the tightness around him, feeling every ripple of movement Merlin made as he rocked into him with agonising slowness.
When the warning bells began to sound, Arthur stilled abruptly, casting a wary glance towards the main corridor where the shadows of approaching figures could be seen hurrying along the walls. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, sure that at any moment a guard would venture into the abandoned hallway and find the crown prince, tunic sticking to him, breeches about his ankles fucking his manservant in a most undignified and unregal manner.
“Arthur,” said Merlin digging his fingertips into the rocky wall. “If you stop now, I will kill you.” He thrust himself back onto Arthur’s cock with a moan. “Arthur, please!”
Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s hips and managed two, three more thrusts before Merlin came, tightening so abruptly around Arthur that his own orgasm was almost pulled from him with a hastily stifled groan as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.
They slumped against the dusty wall, their panting breaths sounding unnaturally loud as they watched a small troop of guards rush past the end of the corridor, shouting instructions to each other, without even glancing towards Arthur and Merlin.
Arthur breathed out a huge sigh of relief and looked towards Merlin, who was trying to tie the broken laces on his breeches together and was giving Arthur the biggest grin the prince had ever seen.
*
The third time Arthur realised Something was definitely Up (apart from the obvious, his brain immaturely supplied and giggled at it’s own wittiness).
It happened in the armoury and it was night time, which, Arthur supposed, was some sort of blessing considering the situation he found himself in. Arthur and Merlin had had some sort of argument, that is to say, Arthur had done something completely innocent and Merlin had taken offence as evidenced by the fact that he was sulking like a big girl in the armoury, actually polishing Arthur’s sword whilst Arthur waited fruitlessly in his bedchamber until he decided this was clearly ridiculous and marched to the armoury to confront Merlin.
After a few heated words, then a few cough-mutters expressing feelings and a couple of tears from Merlin (ok, so Arthur made that part up), Merlin must have somehow tricked Arthur into admitting culpability and apologising because that was the only reason Arthur could think of that would have led to him being on his knees with his manservant’s cock in his mouth.
Before Merlin, Arthur hadn’t done this although he’d had it done to him. He wouldn’t say he particularly enjoyed doing it, his breeches always seemed to get dirty (why were the castle floors so dusty anyway? What were the servants doing?) and he usually ended up with jaw ache, but there was something about reducing Merlin to a quivering, panting wreck with just his mouth that Arthur rather enjoyed. He was never too sure, though, in his own ability, a feeling he never liked having, if only because he’d had his own cock sucked enough to know that Merlin was really, really good at this (Merlin’s mouth looked like it was made to suck cock. He could do it for a living, Arthur had thought on many an occasion and had then been irrationally angry at this idea).
So there Arthur was, kneeling on the armoury floor, Merlin breathing heavily and moaning above him, leaning back against the workbench. Arthur’s movements were a little clumsy and unpractised, lacking the finesse of Merlin’s usual graceful tongue work; Arthur swirled his tongue in stuttering, stop-start motions, along the underside of Merlin’s cock, hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, and managed not to get his teeth in the way which gave him a strange sense of accomplishment.
Merlin was moaning encouragingly, twisting his fingers into Arthur’s hair, pulling a little harsher than needed and Arthur tried to say “Ow” but ended up humming his complaint around Merlin, whose hips bucked forwards of their own accord at the vibration.
“Sorry,” Merlin gasped as Arthur drew back abruptly.
Arthur gave Merlin a glare before resuming with dainty little laps at the tip of Merlin’s cock before running his tongue around the head and taking it back in. Merlin rocked his hips gently and clutched at the workbench beneath him with his free hand. Arthur rewarded Merlin’s restraint by taking in more, bobbing his head up and down and sucking hard, encouraged by Merlin’s throaty groans.
A distant sound made Arthur’s shoulders stiffen, trying to assess potential danger whilst Merlin paid no attention and continued to writhe and make gorgeously filthy noises.
Arthur sat back on his heels and let Merlin drop from his mouth. “Merlin, I think someone’s coming.” He whispered.
Merlin snorted inelegantly as Arthur’s choice of words. “Fuck, Arthur,” he said eventually, almost incoherent, “you can’t just…don’t…nrrgh!”
As there seemed to be no further sound, Arthur judged that any danger had passed and leant forward with renewed vigour. Merlin began to make panting, whining noises somewhere in the back of his throat.
“I think I left it in the armoury.” A voice said very distinctly from just outside the door.
Arthur pulled off with an obscenely loud pop just as Merlin began to come.
*
Merlin, Arthur realised, probably had some sort of fetish. Now, normally Arthur would be into all sorts of less-than-vanilla activities in the bedroom but they were generally that, liaisons in his bedchamber. Getting caught was not something he particularly relished the thought of and the last occasion was far too close for comfort (luckily, Sir Leon had been so surprised to see anyone in the armoury that time of night he hadn’t noticed Arthur’s hastily scrubbed face or swollen red lips).
Thus, Arthur decided Merlin must be confronted about his - inclination - before they made some sort of spectacular spectacle of themselves. This decision led to a very tense and nervous day and a half for Arthur, constantly scanning nooks, crannies and corners, always apprehensive that Merlin might be lurking in the shadows waiting to drag him into their semi-seclusion and have his wicked way with Arthur. It also occurred to Arthur him there were far too many statues and columns in the castle that could easily provide cover for enemies too.
It was two days after the Incident in the Armoury when Merlin darted out and pulled Arthur into an alcove behind a tapestry of Sir Benoic the Bold, in the corridor just outside the prince’s bedchamber.
Arthur gave a squeak of protest, which was immediately and effectively stifled by Merlin’s mouth and tongue, making Arthur’s brain short circuit and momentarily making him forget what he had intended to do. It wasn’t until he felt Merlin’s hand brush against the laces of his breeches that he remembered and batted the hand away.
“Merlin,” he warned breathlessly.
Merlin grinned at him, returning his hand to tangle his fingers into Arthur’s laces.
“Merlin,” Arthur said again, struggling to remember what it was he had wanted to say.
“Come on Arthur,” Merlin whispered huskily, making short work of the laces and slipping his hand inside. “For the other night.”
Arthur’s brain snapped into focus and he grasped Merlin’s wrist, wrenching his hand from his breeches and pinning it back against the wall. “No, I don’t want this.”
Merlin stared at him, and Arthur could see guilt and shame and fear and confusion written all over Merlin’s face, and in the depths of his eyes, and, not for the first time, Arthur wondered how anyone could ever think Merlin had any secrets when his face was such an open book.
“Idiot.” Arthur said softly and leant forward to press a gentle kiss on the tip of Merlin’s nose, his heart twisting painfully at Merlin’s sharp intake of breath. “I mean not here. Like this. We might get caught.”
“Is this about what happened in the armoury?” Merlin asked eventually. “I said I was sorry about that.”
“No.” Arthur said. “Yes. Perhaps. I don’t know.” He sighed. “It’s dangerous. We could have been caught.”
“But we weren’t.”
“We might have been.” Arthur gave another sigh. “If Father ever found out, he’d probably send me to patrol the northernmost borders but you…he’d…” Arthur closed his eyes briefly. “I can’t risk that.”
“Are you…” Merlin stuttered around a sudden constriction in his throat, “are you ending this?”
“What is this?” Arthur asked. “The stables, the dungeons, the armoury…do you want us to be found out? Is that what you like? I need to know that this…” Arthur pressed the heel of his free hand against Merlin’s semi-hard cock, crudely illustrating his words, “I need to know this is for me.”
Merlin was staring at him, chest heaving with a confusion of need and want and desperation, mouth open but no words came out.
“Never mind,” Arthur said, releasing his hold on Merlin and dropping back abruptly. He turned and stalked the short distance from behind the tapestry to his bedchamber.
Merlin scurried after him; slipping through the door before Arthur could slam it shut, and lock him out. Instead, Merlin fastened the bolt behind him and stood in front of the door. Arthur was in front of his fireplace; shoulders slumped, staring into the flames.
“Arthur,” Merlin said sharply. “You prat.”
Arthur turned his head to give Merlin a halfhearted glare.
“I can’t believe you…” Merlin began but trailed off halfway through as Arthur looked away again. Arthur shuffled his feet but refused to look up at Merlin, couldn’t, wouldn’t.
“I won’t deny that almost getting caught together gives me a bit of an added tingle…” Merlin said awkwardly. “But…it’s you Arthur, it’s always you.”
There was a moment of unnatural silence, a mere second that felt stretched into hours, days even, where Arthur’s heart thudded loudly as he processed Merlin’s words and then, realising he had heard correctly, he looked up to see Merlin waiting, hesitant but gazing straight at Arthur.
The atmosphere is tangible; something, this, them, everything, hovering uncertainly between them, a moment lingering in breathless anticipation until it is broken, gloriously and suddenly, as Arthur bursts into action, pushing away from the fire and reaching Merlin in a few quick strides backing him up against the door. He can feel Merlin’s whole body thrumming, vibrating with a power and an emotion they never try to name, and Arthur was lost.
When their lips met, Arthur’s stomach lurched like the first time they’d kissed, gentle and giddy, the sound of their breathing unnaturally loud, gasping as they quickly abandon the slow, leisurely pace in favour of eager urgency. Arthur pressed Merlin firmly against the door, grasping at bony hips with warm hands and bit at Merlin’s lower lip before soothing it with a kiss and a lick, darting his tongue into Merlin’s mouth and Merlin groaned in response, curling his fingers sharply into Arthur hair and clinging to him, and Arthur trembled a little at such evident need.
They stay like that for a while, kissing, filthy and wet, and panting until Arthur felt like his legs wouldn’t hold him up anymore and Merlin is groaning softly into his mouth.
“Want to do this properly,” Arthur gasped around gentle nibbles of Merlin’s jaw and tugged Merlin away from the door, deftly manoeuvring towards the bed and pushing Merlin down onto it. Arthur paused to pull off his tunic and then climbed up alongside Merlin, urges Merlin’s own tunic off over his head and sent it flying to the floor. Merlin gave an unsteady laugh from somewhere in his throat as Arthur pressed him against the pillows, stretched hotly out along Merlin’s body and peppered the sharp points and smooth indentations of Merlin’s pale chest with kisses and gentle bites and then soothes with sword-calloused palms, a little rough against silky skin. He feels Merlin hooking an ankle around his leg, senses Merlin’s warm hand splayed against the small of his back, notices Merlin’s heart beat beneath his lips and he’s hard, they both are, straining desperately in his breeches but relishing the chance to leisurely worship the warm expanse of skin before him, Merlin, mouth slack with pleasure and reddened lips and full blown pupils, eyes so dark they’re almost black, lying beneath him so wanton and eager and willing.
When Arthur had mapped every pore of Merlin’s chest with his tongue and Merlin was arching into him, spine curving up from the sheets to press, hard and desperate, against Arthur’s leg, Arthur relented, hooked his fingers over the top of Merlin’s breeches and pulled them down, taking the underclothes with them, and pulled them off completely, tossing them onto the floor without care. Arthur paused at the foot of the bed to shuck off his own breeches and underclothes before crawling back up to lie between Merlin’s thighs, balancing some of his weight on an elbow and stroking his hand on the other arm up and down Merlin’s side before resting the palm on Merlin’s hip, inching his fingers between Merlin’s skin and the bed sheets to pull them closer together. Merlin’s fingers curled into the skin on Arthur’s shoulder and back, leaving reddened crescent indentations as he rolled his hips sinuously, making their already leaking, slick cocks slide together.
Merlin’s breath was ragged and his fingers were white as they dug into the sheets whilst Arthur kissed his way down Merlin’s body, nipping at the soft skin of Merlin’s inner left thigh and even pressing soft kisses on the backs of Merlin’s knees before Arthur reached for a small pot of oil on his nightstand, slathered it over his fingers and finally, finally, pressed a finger inside Merlin.
It was the first time they had been completely naked together, Arthur could barely process how utterly, gorgeously indecent Merlin looked, flushed and shimmering with a sheen of sweat and saliva, grasping a fistful of the bed sheets with one hand, whilst the other stretched over his head and wrapped around the bed post, rocking himself backwards onto three of Arthur’s fingers with tiny moans of pleasure.
When Merlin was ready and writhing on Arthur’s fingers, Arthur positioned himself, a hand under Merlin’s knee, and with a gentle nudge with the head of his cock, Merlin opened beneath him, willingly letting Arthur slide inside, inch by inch until he’s flush inside and Merlin gave a small, quiet, whimper of hunger and excitement as Arthur drew out and pushed back in again, not roughly, but with firm, powerful thrusts at an unrelenting fast pace, until Merlin’s back began to arc unconsciously, his hips were jerking roughly and his hand was clenching and unclenching around the bed post. Arthur shifted Merlin’s leg onto his shoulder; leaning forward to better control his thrusts and saw that Merlin was biting his lower lip to smother any sound, out of habit from their previous less than private couplings. Arthur bent down and kissed at Merlin’s top lip, uncoordinated and messily, and said gruffly, “Don’t…do…that…want to hear you.”
Merlin gave a low moan as he released his lip from his teeth and Arthur gave him another quick peck in reward, before returning his attention to his steady thrusts.
“Oh! Oh! Ah…ahhhh…Arthur! Nnnnghhh!” Merlin cried, unrestrained and uninhibited at last, as he began to come, heavy pearls of white spurting onto his chest and stomach.
The sound of Merlin’s climax, and the automatic tightening of his muscles around Arthur’s cock made Arthur snap his hips faster and harder, wringing out further cries of ecstasy from Merlin whilst Arthur felt a tension coiling at the base of his spine, molten hot desire that wound tightly and spread lower until he gave one final thrust, and the tension dissipated in a glorious flood of pure elation as he came, loudly, and sparks erupted behind his eyelids.
It seemed several hours, but was only a matter of moments, before Arthur came to properly, slumped on top of a pliant and grinning Merlin who was making comments about being squashed but looked perfectly happy that this was the case. Eventually, Arthur was able to move from his bed to get a towel and gently wipe at Merlin’s chest and between his legs, before stripping off the top sheet of the bed and discarding it.
Merlin began to struggle up from the bed and was unceremoniously pushed back down.
“Where are you going?” Arthur demanded.
Merlin frowned. “Do you want me to stay?”
“You really are an idiot.” Arthur said, kissing the furrow in Merlin’s brow, before tucking them both beneath the covers.
*
When Arthur woke the next morning with Merlin’s head on his chest he decided that this was a much better arrangement indeed and hoped this would be the first of many similar occasions.
(It was. Although, Merlin still pounces on him from behind statues when he least expects it. They both rather enjoy that too).
Rating:NC-17
Summary: After the third time they nearly got caught during sex, Arthur realized Merlin probably has some sort of fetish. From the Kinkme_Merlin prompt
Author’s Note: Pretty much as posted on meme but with a few glaring errors corrected. Otherwise unbetaed and unedited.
The first time Arthur didn’t really think anything of it. He’d been away far longer than he’d anticipated when Merlin met him in the stables, pushed him into the furthermost stall and shoved his hand down Arthur’s breeches, bringing him off with hot gasps into his neck, barely masked by the occasional whinny of the horses and the sound of the stable boys unloading the wagon out in the courtyard. Such urgency might not have been particularly dignified, but they were both young and had only had the company of their own right hands for nearly a fortnight. Plus, Arthur thought later when he caught sight of himself in the looking glass, he really couldn’t blame Merlin for wanting to touch such princely magnificence.
*
Arthur’s not sure how the second time even started. He’d bumped into Merlin skulking around one of the passageways in the depths of the dungeons and had barely managed to get as far as demanding, “What are…?” before Merlin leant in and silenced him with a filthy kiss and shoved him up against the wall, his whole wiry body pressed up against Arthur, pushing a leg between Arthur’s thighs. Arthur groaned shamelessly into Merlin’s mouth and thrust his hips forward, revelling in the delicious friction as he rubbed his rapidly hardening cock against Merlin’s leg. Arthur reached out, his hands slipping past Merlin’s bony hips and grabbing his arse.
“Impatient.” Merlin said in a huff of breath as he dipped his head to bite Arthur gently at the base of his neck, just where the skin disappeared under his tunic. Arthur arched forwards again and felt something dig into him. Something that wasn’t Merlin’s erection or his sharp hipbone.
“What is that?” he demanded.
Merlin shifted backwards and dug into his pocket until he pulled out a small jar of oil. He held it up in front of Arthur’s face so the dim torchlight glinted off the glass and grinned. “Always prepared.”
In most other circumstances, Arthur would have at least paused to consider why a person might be wandering the dungeons at night with a vial of oil in their pocket, but this was Merlin, who was pressing the vial insistently into Arthur’s hand and mouthing hot promises along his jawline. By the time Arthur’s brain caught up with him, he’d manoeuvred Merlin across the small width of the corridor, pressed him up against the wall and was pawing ineffectually at the knotted laces of Merlin’s breeches.
“Come on, Arthur,” Merlin whined.
Arthur gave a final tug at the laces, snapping them, and gave a small cry of triumph as he pushed Merlin’s breeches and thinning undershorts down over his hips. “Turn around,” Arthur ordered gently and Merlin did, steadying himself with both palms against the wall, shaking in delicious anticipation as Arthur uncorked the vial and tipped oil over his hand.
“Come on, Arthur!” Merlin whined again as Arthur teased gently at his entrance with a slick finger until Merlin couldn’t stand it any more and rocked backwards, forcing the tip of Arthur’s finger inside him.
From there on it was a bit of blur, Arthur couldn’t remember how they’d knocked the torch over, sending the flame sputtering into nothingness and leaving them in almost complete darkness except for the occasional flicker from the torches lighting the main corridor. He only vaguely remembered pushing his own breeches down and pushing forwards, filling Merlin with his cock, overwhelmed by the tightness around him, feeling every ripple of movement Merlin made as he rocked into him with agonising slowness.
When the warning bells began to sound, Arthur stilled abruptly, casting a wary glance towards the main corridor where the shadows of approaching figures could be seen hurrying along the walls. He could hear his heart pounding in his chest, sure that at any moment a guard would venture into the abandoned hallway and find the crown prince, tunic sticking to him, breeches about his ankles fucking his manservant in a most undignified and unregal manner.
“Arthur,” said Merlin digging his fingertips into the rocky wall. “If you stop now, I will kill you.” He thrust himself back onto Arthur’s cock with a moan. “Arthur, please!”
Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s hips and managed two, three more thrusts before Merlin came, tightening so abruptly around Arthur that his own orgasm was almost pulled from him with a hastily stifled groan as the sound of approaching footsteps grew louder.
They slumped against the dusty wall, their panting breaths sounding unnaturally loud as they watched a small troop of guards rush past the end of the corridor, shouting instructions to each other, without even glancing towards Arthur and Merlin.
Arthur breathed out a huge sigh of relief and looked towards Merlin, who was trying to tie the broken laces on his breeches together and was giving Arthur the biggest grin the prince had ever seen.
*
The third time Arthur realised Something was definitely Up (apart from the obvious, his brain immaturely supplied and giggled at it’s own wittiness).
It happened in the armoury and it was night time, which, Arthur supposed, was some sort of blessing considering the situation he found himself in. Arthur and Merlin had had some sort of argument, that is to say, Arthur had done something completely innocent and Merlin had taken offence as evidenced by the fact that he was sulking like a big girl in the armoury, actually polishing Arthur’s sword whilst Arthur waited fruitlessly in his bedchamber until he decided this was clearly ridiculous and marched to the armoury to confront Merlin.
After a few heated words, then a few cough-mutters expressing feelings and a couple of tears from Merlin (ok, so Arthur made that part up), Merlin must have somehow tricked Arthur into admitting culpability and apologising because that was the only reason Arthur could think of that would have led to him being on his knees with his manservant’s cock in his mouth.
Before Merlin, Arthur hadn’t done this although he’d had it done to him. He wouldn’t say he particularly enjoyed doing it, his breeches always seemed to get dirty (why were the castle floors so dusty anyway? What were the servants doing?) and he usually ended up with jaw ache, but there was something about reducing Merlin to a quivering, panting wreck with just his mouth that Arthur rather enjoyed. He was never too sure, though, in his own ability, a feeling he never liked having, if only because he’d had his own cock sucked enough to know that Merlin was really, really good at this (Merlin’s mouth looked like it was made to suck cock. He could do it for a living, Arthur had thought on many an occasion and had then been irrationally angry at this idea).
So there Arthur was, kneeling on the armoury floor, Merlin breathing heavily and moaning above him, leaning back against the workbench. Arthur’s movements were a little clumsy and unpractised, lacking the finesse of Merlin’s usual graceful tongue work; Arthur swirled his tongue in stuttering, stop-start motions, along the underside of Merlin’s cock, hollowed out his cheeks and sucked, and managed not to get his teeth in the way which gave him a strange sense of accomplishment.
Merlin was moaning encouragingly, twisting his fingers into Arthur’s hair, pulling a little harsher than needed and Arthur tried to say “Ow” but ended up humming his complaint around Merlin, whose hips bucked forwards of their own accord at the vibration.
“Sorry,” Merlin gasped as Arthur drew back abruptly.
Arthur gave Merlin a glare before resuming with dainty little laps at the tip of Merlin’s cock before running his tongue around the head and taking it back in. Merlin rocked his hips gently and clutched at the workbench beneath him with his free hand. Arthur rewarded Merlin’s restraint by taking in more, bobbing his head up and down and sucking hard, encouraged by Merlin’s throaty groans.
A distant sound made Arthur’s shoulders stiffen, trying to assess potential danger whilst Merlin paid no attention and continued to writhe and make gorgeously filthy noises.
Arthur sat back on his heels and let Merlin drop from his mouth. “Merlin, I think someone’s coming.” He whispered.
Merlin snorted inelegantly as Arthur’s choice of words. “Fuck, Arthur,” he said eventually, almost incoherent, “you can’t just…don’t…nrrgh!”
As there seemed to be no further sound, Arthur judged that any danger had passed and leant forward with renewed vigour. Merlin began to make panting, whining noises somewhere in the back of his throat.
“I think I left it in the armoury.” A voice said very distinctly from just outside the door.
Arthur pulled off with an obscenely loud pop just as Merlin began to come.
*
Merlin, Arthur realised, probably had some sort of fetish. Now, normally Arthur would be into all sorts of less-than-vanilla activities in the bedroom but they were generally that, liaisons in his bedchamber. Getting caught was not something he particularly relished the thought of and the last occasion was far too close for comfort (luckily, Sir Leon had been so surprised to see anyone in the armoury that time of night he hadn’t noticed Arthur’s hastily scrubbed face or swollen red lips).
Thus, Arthur decided Merlin must be confronted about his - inclination - before they made some sort of spectacular spectacle of themselves. This decision led to a very tense and nervous day and a half for Arthur, constantly scanning nooks, crannies and corners, always apprehensive that Merlin might be lurking in the shadows waiting to drag him into their semi-seclusion and have his wicked way with Arthur. It also occurred to Arthur him there were far too many statues and columns in the castle that could easily provide cover for enemies too.
It was two days after the Incident in the Armoury when Merlin darted out and pulled Arthur into an alcove behind a tapestry of Sir Benoic the Bold, in the corridor just outside the prince’s bedchamber.
Arthur gave a squeak of protest, which was immediately and effectively stifled by Merlin’s mouth and tongue, making Arthur’s brain short circuit and momentarily making him forget what he had intended to do. It wasn’t until he felt Merlin’s hand brush against the laces of his breeches that he remembered and batted the hand away.
“Merlin,” he warned breathlessly.
Merlin grinned at him, returning his hand to tangle his fingers into Arthur’s laces.
“Merlin,” Arthur said again, struggling to remember what it was he had wanted to say.
“Come on Arthur,” Merlin whispered huskily, making short work of the laces and slipping his hand inside. “For the other night.”
Arthur’s brain snapped into focus and he grasped Merlin’s wrist, wrenching his hand from his breeches and pinning it back against the wall. “No, I don’t want this.”
Merlin stared at him, and Arthur could see guilt and shame and fear and confusion written all over Merlin’s face, and in the depths of his eyes, and, not for the first time, Arthur wondered how anyone could ever think Merlin had any secrets when his face was such an open book.
“Idiot.” Arthur said softly and leant forward to press a gentle kiss on the tip of Merlin’s nose, his heart twisting painfully at Merlin’s sharp intake of breath. “I mean not here. Like this. We might get caught.”
“Is this about what happened in the armoury?” Merlin asked eventually. “I said I was sorry about that.”
“No.” Arthur said. “Yes. Perhaps. I don’t know.” He sighed. “It’s dangerous. We could have been caught.”
“But we weren’t.”
“We might have been.” Arthur gave another sigh. “If Father ever found out, he’d probably send me to patrol the northernmost borders but you…he’d…” Arthur closed his eyes briefly. “I can’t risk that.”
“Are you…” Merlin stuttered around a sudden constriction in his throat, “are you ending this?”
“What is this?” Arthur asked. “The stables, the dungeons, the armoury…do you want us to be found out? Is that what you like? I need to know that this…” Arthur pressed the heel of his free hand against Merlin’s semi-hard cock, crudely illustrating his words, “I need to know this is for me.”
Merlin was staring at him, chest heaving with a confusion of need and want and desperation, mouth open but no words came out.
“Never mind,” Arthur said, releasing his hold on Merlin and dropping back abruptly. He turned and stalked the short distance from behind the tapestry to his bedchamber.
Merlin scurried after him; slipping through the door before Arthur could slam it shut, and lock him out. Instead, Merlin fastened the bolt behind him and stood in front of the door. Arthur was in front of his fireplace; shoulders slumped, staring into the flames.
“Arthur,” Merlin said sharply. “You prat.”
Arthur turned his head to give Merlin a halfhearted glare.
“I can’t believe you…” Merlin began but trailed off halfway through as Arthur looked away again. Arthur shuffled his feet but refused to look up at Merlin, couldn’t, wouldn’t.
“I won’t deny that almost getting caught together gives me a bit of an added tingle…” Merlin said awkwardly. “But…it’s you Arthur, it’s always you.”
There was a moment of unnatural silence, a mere second that felt stretched into hours, days even, where Arthur’s heart thudded loudly as he processed Merlin’s words and then, realising he had heard correctly, he looked up to see Merlin waiting, hesitant but gazing straight at Arthur.
The atmosphere is tangible; something, this, them, everything, hovering uncertainly between them, a moment lingering in breathless anticipation until it is broken, gloriously and suddenly, as Arthur bursts into action, pushing away from the fire and reaching Merlin in a few quick strides backing him up against the door. He can feel Merlin’s whole body thrumming, vibrating with a power and an emotion they never try to name, and Arthur was lost.
When their lips met, Arthur’s stomach lurched like the first time they’d kissed, gentle and giddy, the sound of their breathing unnaturally loud, gasping as they quickly abandon the slow, leisurely pace in favour of eager urgency. Arthur pressed Merlin firmly against the door, grasping at bony hips with warm hands and bit at Merlin’s lower lip before soothing it with a kiss and a lick, darting his tongue into Merlin’s mouth and Merlin groaned in response, curling his fingers sharply into Arthur hair and clinging to him, and Arthur trembled a little at such evident need.
They stay like that for a while, kissing, filthy and wet, and panting until Arthur felt like his legs wouldn’t hold him up anymore and Merlin is groaning softly into his mouth.
“Want to do this properly,” Arthur gasped around gentle nibbles of Merlin’s jaw and tugged Merlin away from the door, deftly manoeuvring towards the bed and pushing Merlin down onto it. Arthur paused to pull off his tunic and then climbed up alongside Merlin, urges Merlin’s own tunic off over his head and sent it flying to the floor. Merlin gave an unsteady laugh from somewhere in his throat as Arthur pressed him against the pillows, stretched hotly out along Merlin’s body and peppered the sharp points and smooth indentations of Merlin’s pale chest with kisses and gentle bites and then soothes with sword-calloused palms, a little rough against silky skin. He feels Merlin hooking an ankle around his leg, senses Merlin’s warm hand splayed against the small of his back, notices Merlin’s heart beat beneath his lips and he’s hard, they both are, straining desperately in his breeches but relishing the chance to leisurely worship the warm expanse of skin before him, Merlin, mouth slack with pleasure and reddened lips and full blown pupils, eyes so dark they’re almost black, lying beneath him so wanton and eager and willing.
When Arthur had mapped every pore of Merlin’s chest with his tongue and Merlin was arching into him, spine curving up from the sheets to press, hard and desperate, against Arthur’s leg, Arthur relented, hooked his fingers over the top of Merlin’s breeches and pulled them down, taking the underclothes with them, and pulled them off completely, tossing them onto the floor without care. Arthur paused at the foot of the bed to shuck off his own breeches and underclothes before crawling back up to lie between Merlin’s thighs, balancing some of his weight on an elbow and stroking his hand on the other arm up and down Merlin’s side before resting the palm on Merlin’s hip, inching his fingers between Merlin’s skin and the bed sheets to pull them closer together. Merlin’s fingers curled into the skin on Arthur’s shoulder and back, leaving reddened crescent indentations as he rolled his hips sinuously, making their already leaking, slick cocks slide together.
Merlin’s breath was ragged and his fingers were white as they dug into the sheets whilst Arthur kissed his way down Merlin’s body, nipping at the soft skin of Merlin’s inner left thigh and even pressing soft kisses on the backs of Merlin’s knees before Arthur reached for a small pot of oil on his nightstand, slathered it over his fingers and finally, finally, pressed a finger inside Merlin.
It was the first time they had been completely naked together, Arthur could barely process how utterly, gorgeously indecent Merlin looked, flushed and shimmering with a sheen of sweat and saliva, grasping a fistful of the bed sheets with one hand, whilst the other stretched over his head and wrapped around the bed post, rocking himself backwards onto three of Arthur’s fingers with tiny moans of pleasure.
When Merlin was ready and writhing on Arthur’s fingers, Arthur positioned himself, a hand under Merlin’s knee, and with a gentle nudge with the head of his cock, Merlin opened beneath him, willingly letting Arthur slide inside, inch by inch until he’s flush inside and Merlin gave a small, quiet, whimper of hunger and excitement as Arthur drew out and pushed back in again, not roughly, but with firm, powerful thrusts at an unrelenting fast pace, until Merlin’s back began to arc unconsciously, his hips were jerking roughly and his hand was clenching and unclenching around the bed post. Arthur shifted Merlin’s leg onto his shoulder; leaning forward to better control his thrusts and saw that Merlin was biting his lower lip to smother any sound, out of habit from their previous less than private couplings. Arthur bent down and kissed at Merlin’s top lip, uncoordinated and messily, and said gruffly, “Don’t…do…that…want to hear you.”
Merlin gave a low moan as he released his lip from his teeth and Arthur gave him another quick peck in reward, before returning his attention to his steady thrusts.
“Oh! Oh! Ah…ahhhh…Arthur! Nnnnghhh!” Merlin cried, unrestrained and uninhibited at last, as he began to come, heavy pearls of white spurting onto his chest and stomach.
The sound of Merlin’s climax, and the automatic tightening of his muscles around Arthur’s cock made Arthur snap his hips faster and harder, wringing out further cries of ecstasy from Merlin whilst Arthur felt a tension coiling at the base of his spine, molten hot desire that wound tightly and spread lower until he gave one final thrust, and the tension dissipated in a glorious flood of pure elation as he came, loudly, and sparks erupted behind his eyelids.
It seemed several hours, but was only a matter of moments, before Arthur came to properly, slumped on top of a pliant and grinning Merlin who was making comments about being squashed but looked perfectly happy that this was the case. Eventually, Arthur was able to move from his bed to get a towel and gently wipe at Merlin’s chest and between his legs, before stripping off the top sheet of the bed and discarding it.
Merlin began to struggle up from the bed and was unceremoniously pushed back down.
“Where are you going?” Arthur demanded.
Merlin frowned. “Do you want me to stay?”
“You really are an idiot.” Arthur said, kissing the furrow in Merlin’s brow, before tucking them both beneath the covers.
*
When Arthur woke the next morning with Merlin’s head on his chest he decided that this was a much better arrangement indeed and hoped this would be the first of many similar occasions.
(It was. Although, Merlin still pounces on him from behind statues when he least expects it. They both rather enjoy that too).