Intimate
Title: Intimate
Wordcount: 640
Rating: R
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: Arthur always gets what he wants.
EDIT: Gah, typos fixed.
Arthur, as he sometimes likes to make everyone around him acutely aware, is a prince. And as such, he gets what he wants. Always.
And if that means a pretty servant girl in his bed with her dress pulled up around her waist, then, well, that’s perfectly alright.
So really, if that means his manservant bent over a table with his breeches around his knees, then, well, that should be alright too, shouldn’t it?
Admittedly Merlin was rather different from the people he usually slept with. He was skinny and awkward and quite often grubby, not to mention distinctly male. But still. Prince. Gets what he wants.
He had set down some rules, though. He never talked about it. He never slept with Merlin in his bedroom. And he never kissed Merlin (most especially not on the mouth). He didn’t want things to get too intimate.
All the same, though, it became a nightly thing. Every evening before he went to bed, he slept with Merlin. It was part of his routine (as much as he had a routine). So he was incredibly surprised when, one night, Merlin slunk away when he was out of the room, without a word.
The next night, he broke the first of his three rules, and asked Merlin why.
“I didn’t want to,” said Merlin. “And I still don’t.” He’d turned to leave, but Arthur caught him by the arm.
“You always wanted to before,” he said.
“Well,” said Merlin. “Maybe that’s not what I want any more.”
Arthur very nearly called after him that, being a Prince, he should really get what he wanted, and that it wasn’t really up to Merlin, but stopped himself.
It was a week before he broke that rule again, during which time everything became rather awkward, and he became increasingly frustrated.
He spent one night trying to picture Merlin as a woman (because shouldn’t that be what he wants, really?), but it’s hard. Eventually he concludes that Merlin as a woman just wouldn’t have the appeal. So then why was he attracted to him as he was?
And finally, after several nights of fantasising about Merlin (specifically their first time together, with his arms wrapped around Merlin’s slim waist, and the way Merlin had groaned and gasped out his name), he corners him in the bedroom and breaks that rule again.
“What do you want, then?” he said.
“What does it matter to you?” said Merlin, and tried to leave, but Arthur stopped him.
“I want to know,” he said, then; “I need to know. Merlin.”
There’s a long pause. “What does it matter?” Merlin says eventually. “It’s just sex, isn’t it? And it doesn’t matter if it’s just sex.” And again he tries to leave, but Arthur stops him.
“I never said that,” he said, but he knows he would have done if Merlin had asks, and he knows Merlin knows that too. Merlin shrugs. Arthur is quiet for a moment. he feels a rare moment of intuition coming on.
He leans forward and kisses Merlin, first on the forehead, and then on the lips.
It goes on for a while, and Merlin makes a noise that’s half irritation and half relief when he pulls back. “Is this what you want?” he murmurs, his face so close to Merlin’s that he can feel his breath. And Merlin nods, as far as he can tell, then closes what remains of the distance between them.
Arthur thinks that his last rule is probably going to be broken. But then again, really, he’s already been inside and all around Merlin, so how much more intimate can they get?
And he thinks, afterwards, when they’re sweaty and sticky and tangled up, that he’d rather have this moment than all the pretty servant girls in Camelot (in all of Albion, maybe).
Wordcount: 640
Rating: R
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: Arthur always gets what he wants.
EDIT: Gah, typos fixed.
Arthur, as he sometimes likes to make everyone around him acutely aware, is a prince. And as such, he gets what he wants. Always.
And if that means a pretty servant girl in his bed with her dress pulled up around her waist, then, well, that’s perfectly alright.
So really, if that means his manservant bent over a table with his breeches around his knees, then, well, that should be alright too, shouldn’t it?
Admittedly Merlin was rather different from the people he usually slept with. He was skinny and awkward and quite often grubby, not to mention distinctly male. But still. Prince. Gets what he wants.
He had set down some rules, though. He never talked about it. He never slept with Merlin in his bedroom. And he never kissed Merlin (most especially not on the mouth). He didn’t want things to get too intimate.
All the same, though, it became a nightly thing. Every evening before he went to bed, he slept with Merlin. It was part of his routine (as much as he had a routine). So he was incredibly surprised when, one night, Merlin slunk away when he was out of the room, without a word.
The next night, he broke the first of his three rules, and asked Merlin why.
“I didn’t want to,” said Merlin. “And I still don’t.” He’d turned to leave, but Arthur caught him by the arm.
“You always wanted to before,” he said.
“Well,” said Merlin. “Maybe that’s not what I want any more.”
Arthur very nearly called after him that, being a Prince, he should really get what he wanted, and that it wasn’t really up to Merlin, but stopped himself.
It was a week before he broke that rule again, during which time everything became rather awkward, and he became increasingly frustrated.
He spent one night trying to picture Merlin as a woman (because shouldn’t that be what he wants, really?), but it’s hard. Eventually he concludes that Merlin as a woman just wouldn’t have the appeal. So then why was he attracted to him as he was?
And finally, after several nights of fantasising about Merlin (specifically their first time together, with his arms wrapped around Merlin’s slim waist, and the way Merlin had groaned and gasped out his name), he corners him in the bedroom and breaks that rule again.
“What do you want, then?” he said.
“What does it matter to you?” said Merlin, and tried to leave, but Arthur stopped him.
“I want to know,” he said, then; “I need to know. Merlin.”
There’s a long pause. “What does it matter?” Merlin says eventually. “It’s just sex, isn’t it? And it doesn’t matter if it’s just sex.” And again he tries to leave, but Arthur stops him.
“I never said that,” he said, but he knows he would have done if Merlin had asks, and he knows Merlin knows that too. Merlin shrugs. Arthur is quiet for a moment. he feels a rare moment of intuition coming on.
He leans forward and kisses Merlin, first on the forehead, and then on the lips.
It goes on for a while, and Merlin makes a noise that’s half irritation and half relief when he pulls back. “Is this what you want?” he murmurs, his face so close to Merlin’s that he can feel his breath. And Merlin nods, as far as he can tell, then closes what remains of the distance between them.
Arthur thinks that his last rule is probably going to be broken. But then again, really, he’s already been inside and all around Merlin, so how much more intimate can they get?
And he thinks, afterwards, when they’re sweaty and sticky and tangled up, that he’d rather have this moment than all the pretty servant girls in Camelot (in all of Albion, maybe).