Merlin Fic: Oh Everyday, I Start So Great (Arthur/Others) - R
Title: Oh, Everyday I Start So Great
Author: nu_breed
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/others
Warnings: Drug use
Word Count: 1320
Summary: Arthur needs to forget
Notes: Set during The More You Get, the More You Want, after the "break-up" at Morgana's. Arthur POV. Thanks to alby_mangroves for the beta and ememmyem for the Britpick. This is all hermette's fault.
He gets the coke from a drug-dealing ex of Morgana's. it's been years since he's indulged, it's too risky, too-uncontrolled. But Arthur doesn't care about that, not tonight.
It's good. It's really fucking good and for a moment he considers doing nothing but this, sitting at home with a bottle of Chivas Regal and a couple of grams, feeling the burn in his nostrils and the bitter drip-drip down the back of his throat. It numbs things, makes him forget about how frail his father looks, how weak. How unlike Uther Pendragon he is. Arthur always thought his father was invincible, but not even he can cheat death.
Uther may not be invincible, but Arthur is. All it takes is a few roughly chopped lines and a fifty quid note.
But even that isn't enough. Not enough to banish images of shaggy black hair and blue blue eyes that look at him like he's the answer to everything, and he calls a for a cab, spends the fifteen minutes it takes to get to Soho with his nails digging into his own thighs, desperate for another line, climbing out of his skin.
He doesn't go to Avalon. It's too close, too familiar, and too many people know who he is there. There's a disadvantage to being one of the most sought-after Doms in that place, and tonight it's about the furthest thing from what he wants.
Mercia isn't a sex club per se, but what goes on in the backroom there makes it just about as close to one as a stock standard gay club can get. Arthur ignores the heaving masses on the dancefloor, the shirtless muscle queens on far too much crystal and the twinks at the bar trying to pull the richest man possible. If a pretty twink was what he wanted it would be far too easy, just a flash of a smile and his black card and he'd have any number of them on their knees for him.
Instead, he goes straight to the gents. All the cubicles bar one are occupied and he can hear the unmistakable sounds of raw, hard fucking. It makes his cock swell in his jeans. His cubicle has a broken lock and he has to sit down on the toilet, hold the door closed with his boot as he pulls out the baggie and does a large bump, one for each nostril.
The coke hits him straight away, the edge from the last session not completely worn off and his nerve endings spark with it as he swallows and tries to ignore the constant bitterness at the back of his throat.
He looks at himself in the mirror when he's done. Pupils blown and cheeks flushed, his heart pounding. He knows he looks good, he isn't blind: the black cut-off shirt he's wearing frames his biceps and the jeans he's chosen sit perfectly, showing off the curve of his arse. None of it is happenstance, he wants to stands out, wants to be wanted.
Arthur runs a hand through his hair, gets it sitting just right and heads for the back room. He walks through the doorway, the unmistakable smell of sweat and sex getting into his pores.
It doesn't take long for him to be noticed. The bloke he locks eyes with is tall, built and just what Arthur is looking for. He gives Arthur a nod, and walks over to him. Arthur stands against the wall and waits.
He looks like Percy is the first thing he thinks when he gets close enough for Arthur to really see his face. Percy, who probably fucks like a champion but could never in a million years give Merlin what he needs.
Arthur's gut twists with something nasty and ugly and he tries to shake the image of Merlin bent over the bonnet of Percy's car, begging for his cock.
"What do you want?" tall and gorgeous asks, and Arthur grabs him, his fingers tight in his hair, crushes their lips together, savage and rough. Arthur's hand is on the other man's cock which is thick and hard and all Arthur can think about is how much it's going to hurt. It makes his thighs turn liquid.
When Arthur pulls back, his lips raw and bitten, he just smirks and drags the heel of his hand over the bloke's crotch. "Want this," he says, "in me."
It isn't something he gets in the mood for very often and he hasn't in months, but tonight he doesn't want anything more than this.
He smiles and Arthur feels slightly sick. "Turn around then."
It's better like this, not being able to see. Arthur unzips his jeans and pulls them down far enough that he can spread his legs. He isn't wearing any underwear and the cool air hits his skin as he leans forward, presses his hands to the wall.
"Your arse is amazing," the bloke whispers, and seconds later there are slick fingers, pushing inside. "Jesus, you're so tight."
Arthur rolls his hips back, tries to get those fingers deeper. "Don't go easy on me," he says, "I can take it."
He gets two fingers inside, slides them inside Arthur, slippery and hot, almost to the knuckle. Arthur's stretched already, so full, and he wonders if this is how Merlin felt when Arthur fingered him for the first time. Wonders if Merlin does this to himself when he's alone, whether he thinks of him when he does it.
And it's so selfish, given what he's done to him, but Arthur has always been incredibly selfish.
He tries not to think about it, but he's seen it now and he can't pretend he hasn't. All he can see is Merlin's mouth, the way he begs with his body, so fucking desperate for Arthur to hold him down, to own him.
But most of all, he sees Merlin's smile and the way it makes him want things he shouldn't.
Or Merlin's face in the bathroom at Morgana's, betrayed and angry, so hurt.
"Now," he grinds out. "Don't be careful. I want it hard."
The bloke slides into him and it's all blunt pressure and latex. Arthur presses his cheek into the wall and closes his eyes. God, it hurts, but that's what he wanted after all. It's fucking exquisite. He tries to think about anything else, but all he can see is Percy pushing Merlin against this very same wall: gorgeous and pale and desperate to be fucked. He wonders if that's exactly what they're doing now and he can't help feeling smug because Percy will never, ever give Merlin what he needs.
But neither will Arthur. He can't, and he braces his hands on the wall, shoves his hips back and lets this stranger fuck him as hard as he can. Arthur gets a hand around his cock and strokes himself; long, hard strokes which make him ache and burn.
"You're so fucking hot," the bloke says to him, his voice cracked. "Going to come for me, beautiful?"
Arthur snarls then, because he doesn't need this. Doesn't want to be placated like he would one of his subs, no matter how beautiful they actually are and he speeds his strokes up, brings himself off hard and rough as the stranger shoves into Arthur as deep as he can go, and comes.
He takes a minute when the bloke pulls out. Grabs a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes himself, pulls up his jeans. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and inhales once, twice, then walks away.
Arthur doesn't leave though, he heads for another darkened corner and sinks to his knees. This time he doesn't see a face, he doesn't have to, just sucks this stranger's cock down and pulls off just in time, begs them to come on his face.
Author: nu_breed
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/others
Warnings: Drug use
Word Count: 1320
Summary: Arthur needs to forget
Notes: Set during The More You Get, the More You Want, after the "break-up" at Morgana's. Arthur POV. Thanks to alby_mangroves for the beta and ememmyem for the Britpick. This is all hermette's fault.
He gets the coke from a drug-dealing ex of Morgana's. it's been years since he's indulged, it's too risky, too-uncontrolled. But Arthur doesn't care about that, not tonight.
It's good. It's really fucking good and for a moment he considers doing nothing but this, sitting at home with a bottle of Chivas Regal and a couple of grams, feeling the burn in his nostrils and the bitter drip-drip down the back of his throat. It numbs things, makes him forget about how frail his father looks, how weak. How unlike Uther Pendragon he is. Arthur always thought his father was invincible, but not even he can cheat death.
Uther may not be invincible, but Arthur is. All it takes is a few roughly chopped lines and a fifty quid note.
But even that isn't enough. Not enough to banish images of shaggy black hair and blue blue eyes that look at him like he's the answer to everything, and he calls a for a cab, spends the fifteen minutes it takes to get to Soho with his nails digging into his own thighs, desperate for another line, climbing out of his skin.
He doesn't go to Avalon. It's too close, too familiar, and too many people know who he is there. There's a disadvantage to being one of the most sought-after Doms in that place, and tonight it's about the furthest thing from what he wants.
Mercia isn't a sex club per se, but what goes on in the backroom there makes it just about as close to one as a stock standard gay club can get. Arthur ignores the heaving masses on the dancefloor, the shirtless muscle queens on far too much crystal and the twinks at the bar trying to pull the richest man possible. If a pretty twink was what he wanted it would be far too easy, just a flash of a smile and his black card and he'd have any number of them on their knees for him.
Instead, he goes straight to the gents. All the cubicles bar one are occupied and he can hear the unmistakable sounds of raw, hard fucking. It makes his cock swell in his jeans. His cubicle has a broken lock and he has to sit down on the toilet, hold the door closed with his boot as he pulls out the baggie and does a large bump, one for each nostril.
The coke hits him straight away, the edge from the last session not completely worn off and his nerve endings spark with it as he swallows and tries to ignore the constant bitterness at the back of his throat.
He looks at himself in the mirror when he's done. Pupils blown and cheeks flushed, his heart pounding. He knows he looks good, he isn't blind: the black cut-off shirt he's wearing frames his biceps and the jeans he's chosen sit perfectly, showing off the curve of his arse. None of it is happenstance, he wants to stands out, wants to be wanted.
Arthur runs a hand through his hair, gets it sitting just right and heads for the back room. He walks through the doorway, the unmistakable smell of sweat and sex getting into his pores.
It doesn't take long for him to be noticed. The bloke he locks eyes with is tall, built and just what Arthur is looking for. He gives Arthur a nod, and walks over to him. Arthur stands against the wall and waits.
He looks like Percy is the first thing he thinks when he gets close enough for Arthur to really see his face. Percy, who probably fucks like a champion but could never in a million years give Merlin what he needs.
Arthur's gut twists with something nasty and ugly and he tries to shake the image of Merlin bent over the bonnet of Percy's car, begging for his cock.
"What do you want?" tall and gorgeous asks, and Arthur grabs him, his fingers tight in his hair, crushes their lips together, savage and rough. Arthur's hand is on the other man's cock which is thick and hard and all Arthur can think about is how much it's going to hurt. It makes his thighs turn liquid.
When Arthur pulls back, his lips raw and bitten, he just smirks and drags the heel of his hand over the bloke's crotch. "Want this," he says, "in me."
It isn't something he gets in the mood for very often and he hasn't in months, but tonight he doesn't want anything more than this.
He smiles and Arthur feels slightly sick. "Turn around then."
It's better like this, not being able to see. Arthur unzips his jeans and pulls them down far enough that he can spread his legs. He isn't wearing any underwear and the cool air hits his skin as he leans forward, presses his hands to the wall.
"Your arse is amazing," the bloke whispers, and seconds later there are slick fingers, pushing inside. "Jesus, you're so tight."
Arthur rolls his hips back, tries to get those fingers deeper. "Don't go easy on me," he says, "I can take it."
He gets two fingers inside, slides them inside Arthur, slippery and hot, almost to the knuckle. Arthur's stretched already, so full, and he wonders if this is how Merlin felt when Arthur fingered him for the first time. Wonders if Merlin does this to himself when he's alone, whether he thinks of him when he does it.
And it's so selfish, given what he's done to him, but Arthur has always been incredibly selfish.
He tries not to think about it, but he's seen it now and he can't pretend he hasn't. All he can see is Merlin's mouth, the way he begs with his body, so fucking desperate for Arthur to hold him down, to own him.
But most of all, he sees Merlin's smile and the way it makes him want things he shouldn't.
Or Merlin's face in the bathroom at Morgana's, betrayed and angry, so hurt.
"Now," he grinds out. "Don't be careful. I want it hard."
The bloke slides into him and it's all blunt pressure and latex. Arthur presses his cheek into the wall and closes his eyes. God, it hurts, but that's what he wanted after all. It's fucking exquisite. He tries to think about anything else, but all he can see is Percy pushing Merlin against this very same wall: gorgeous and pale and desperate to be fucked. He wonders if that's exactly what they're doing now and he can't help feeling smug because Percy will never, ever give Merlin what he needs.
But neither will Arthur. He can't, and he braces his hands on the wall, shoves his hips back and lets this stranger fuck him as hard as he can. Arthur gets a hand around his cock and strokes himself; long, hard strokes which make him ache and burn.
"You're so fucking hot," the bloke says to him, his voice cracked. "Going to come for me, beautiful?"
Arthur snarls then, because he doesn't need this. Doesn't want to be placated like he would one of his subs, no matter how beautiful they actually are and he speeds his strokes up, brings himself off hard and rough as the stranger shoves into Arthur as deep as he can go, and comes.
He takes a minute when the bloke pulls out. Grabs a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes himself, pulls up his jeans. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and inhales once, twice, then walks away.
Arthur doesn't leave though, he heads for another darkened corner and sinks to his knees. This time he doesn't see a face, he doesn't have to, just sucks this stranger's cock down and pulls off just in time, begs them to come on his face.