Lip Service - The Panfandom Commentfest

[alby_mangroves]

Comments

Something for That 2/3

[malu_3]

"Well?" Arthur says, typically impatient now that his secret is out. From the corner of his eye, Merlin can see that he's removed his shirt and fisted it into a ball beside his thigh.

He finds the pouch he's looking for and stands, still avoiding a direct gaze as he circles the fire to kneel at Arthur's side. "Lie back, please. I'll need to…oh."

"What? Merlin, why are you staring at my - ow! What are you doing? Did I not just tell you that they've been rubbed raw?"

Merlin snatches his finger back, biting his lip. They are - rubbed raw, that is. A pretty colour in the firelight, but puffy and, on closer inspection, on the verge of bleeding, the pouting areolas seeming to blend into the enflamed skin beyond.

He mumbles an apology, patting Arthur's wrist, his thigh. Not once taking his eyes off those poor, abused nipples as he tucks a pinch of the herb mixture into his mouth and begins to chew.

"What on earth?" Arthur props himself up on his elbows. "That's disgusting. Surely you're not going to - "

Arthur breaks off, swallowing heavily as Merlin spits the masticated herb mixture into his palm.

"It'll help, sire, I swear. A compound poultice to reduce the inflammation and prevent infection, and the horsemint will soothe - "

"But your mouth - "

"Animals lick their wounds, do they not?" Merlin feels himself raising a brow in imitation of his mentor, even as he repeats his words. He presses the mixture to Arthur's right nipple, steels himself not to flinch at the resulting jerk and hiss. Half the trick to healing knights, as Gaius has explained, is convincing them that the remedy will be effective, that the healer knows best.

"I am not - ah, that stings, damn you! - a dog."

Merlin resists mentioning the way Arthur's legs sometimes twitch in his sleep. "There, there," he murmurs as he gently spreads and pats the poultice into place. Then he clears his throat, looks Arthur straight in the eyes, and explains, "The sting's a good sign, sire. Means it's working. Gaius believes there is something in the saliva that speeds the healing."

"Codswallop." Arthur peers down at his chest. "Utter nonsense. Everyone knows your mouth is filthy. Well?"

"Well what?"

"I do have two sore nipples, Merlin. I hope you haven't used up all that green gunk."

Peeved, Merlin crushes the pouch in his fist. He wants to fling it in Arthur's face, tell him to look after himself, then, if Merlin's spit isn’t good enough for him.

Then he has an idea. A sudden, perfect, dangerous idea. He relaxes his arm down by his side and discreetly tosses the pouch into the underbrush.

"You know what, sire, I have. How very silly of me. But - " Seeing Arthur's expression, Merlin holds up his hands to forestall any outburst. "I think this is a perfect opportunity to engage in science, don't you? A little field research, as it were. Poultice and spit versus - "

"Merlin, what are - "

" - spit alone. Here. Allow me."

Arthur jerks at the first touch of Merlin's tongue - a tiny, testing flick at the margins of the reddened skin around his left nipple. Then his breath leaves him in a great big whuff and he goes absolutely still. So Merlin tries another, a proper lick this time. He gets a quiet, indrawn hiss, then a querulous sound in the back of Arthur's throat, but no open protest. So he does it again…and again, working his way across the enflamed area surrounding the nipple itself.

Arthur's heart is racing, the rhythm erratic, but as Merlin continues to lap at the swollen flesh it evens out to a steady thud. Merlin smiles against the plump curve of Arthur's pec, mouths, "That's it, sire. Easy now," as he pauses to work up more spit.