Clouds and Silverlinings (Chapter 13)
Author: ext_4137531
Title: Clouds and Silverlinings (Chapter 13)
Rating: PG-13, edging towards NC-17 (some previous chapters are NC-17/R)
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur Pendragon
Summary: (Continuation of my Victorian AU WIP) Merlin goes exploring and discovers more than he bargained for.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,166
Prompt: #491 - Athletic
Author's Notes:
You can find the previous parts of this story on AO3 here.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
After the ball incident, things between Merlin and Arthur settled down into a more formal, yet kinder sort of interaction-at least when they actually did interact.
Arthur had taken to having missives delivered via his father’s servant, detailing when Morgana would be available for sittings. He still attended as required, but he resolutely never looked Merlin’s way. Unlike previously, when Merlin had felt Arthur’s eyes on him regularly.
If guests visited the Pendragon’s, Arthur introduced Merlin kindly and praised his work, involving Merlin in conversation as he would any new acquaintance. Whilst Merlin could not complain-Arthur was polite and respectful-things between them were now lacking. Arthur had closed himself off and Merlin missed him. Not that he was sure he’d ever had Arthur in the first place.
Once Merlin had completed his sketches, he no longer required Morgana to sit for him-for now at least, which left Merlin with more time on his hands than ever. He grew restless and bored without a friendly face to talk with. He spoke regularly in the mornings with Freya, one of the maids. She was a kind, funny, and sweet girl. But he hated to get her in any trouble for talking with a strange man or slacking off just because he was lonely.
Instead he started investigating the house to amuse and satisfy his curiosity. Now that Merlin was intimately familiar with all the rooms around him in the guest wing of the Pendragon’s house. He cautiously set out to investigate other parts of the stately home.
It was during one of these explorations that he came across a wing of the house that was evidently for the more practical elements of life at Pendragon mansion. First, there had been the library, which Merlin had been aware existed, but had never been inside. Arthur often disappeared through this door. It was one of the most beautiful rooms Merlin had ever seen-including the magnificent dining room-filled from floor to ceiling with bookcases. A tall ladder allowed access to the upper shelves and there were wide windows to let in lots of light. It was warm and cosy. Merlin could see why Arthur enjoyed spending time there.
He’d found other rooms there too. Some were locked. Some were studies that were evidently not seeing much use and others were used as storage for various items of furniture. Merlin had been enjoying perusing them yesterday when he’d been called away for dinner. Now, with time to kill whilst paint dried on his portrait, Merlin returned, his curiosity piqued as to what he’d discover next.
As he made his way down the corridor, Merlin started to hear strange noises that he couldn’t quite place coming from the far end of the hall, where one of the doors was slightly ajar.
Creeping down the passageway, it occurred to Merlin that he wasn’t sure if he should be there if someone else was present. Usually, he tried to keep himself to himself in others homes. He’d just take a peek to satisfy himself and then return to his room to do some sketching.
Merlin peered through the gap of the door.
Inside the room there appeared to be a rather strange array of pulleys attached to machines, and a row of weights. Merlin frowned. He’d never seen such a thing before. What was this room used for?
He heard the noises again, and he felt himself flush when he realised that the sounds were of a man panting and… straining?
Cautiously, Merlin pushed at the door, it creaked a little and Merlin held his breath as the person inside the room appeared to stop.
Quiet, Merlin told the door, feeling the familiar warm tingle of his magic flow through his fingertips and into the door. He gave it another nudge and this time it opened silently. He held his breath as the person started doing whatever it was they were doing again, and slowly, he poked his head around the door.
What he saw made his mouth go dry. There in the far corner was Arthur, sitting on some kind of contraption, his arms moving in a rowing motion as the seat slid back and forth.
Merlin watched with fascination as Arthur bent and straightened his legs. His breeches were tight-as per the current fashion-and left little to the imagination when it came to his huge, firm thighs. His shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat as his broad shoulders pulled taut when they lengthened and then contracted. Merlin was mesmerised.
He continued staring, unable to take his eyes off him as Arthur carried on; his breathing harsh and hard as he pushed himself.
This must be how Arthur remained so fit. Merlin had been more than a little impressed by him during their morning tumble together, but their time had been so short it had hardly been conducive to admire Arthur as he deserved to be admired.
Now he could take a moment to fully appreciate him with his artist’s eye, tracing the lines of his muscles and limbs as they all worked together. Arthur seemed to speed up, as though challenging himself to push even further, until finally, he slowed down and stopped, drooping over the device as he panted for breath. Merlin shivered, a tingle of lust travelling down his spine, directly to his groin as he remembered the sound of those pants against his ear. Arthur groaned and stretched, startling him. Merlin blushed as he found himself painfully aroused, and as Arthur started to get up from the rowing contraption he hurriedly hid himself back behind the door, praying Arthur wouldn’t find anything amiss.
When he finally dared to take another peek Merlin’s eyes almost fell out of his head. Arthur stood by the windows of the room as he shucked off his shirt. He threw it aside and drank from a glass of water. Merlin hungrily mapped out his newly exposed athleticism. Arthur seemed to glisten with the effort of his exertions and Merlin was torn between the desire to sketch him capturing this image forever, or to run off and let his imagination run wild with thoughts of Arthur ravishing him.
Arthur reached out for a towel to mop his brow and then walked over to the rack of dumbbells. He selected two of them and then sat on a chair as he did some arm reps. Merlin closed his eyes against the image and pressed a hand to his breeches, fantasising about those arms, those hands, wrapping around him and well…
Merlin shifted a little, his boots scraping on the floor.
Arthur’s head turned.
Merlin didn’t hang around to see if he’d been caught. With a flash of his eyes he quietened his boots and dashed off as fast as he could.
Once inside his own room, he locked the door firmly, then slid down the wall, thrusting a hand into his trousers. He sighed with relief. That had been a bit too close.
Title: Clouds and Silverlinings (Chapter 13)
Rating: PG-13, edging towards NC-17 (some previous chapters are NC-17/R)
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur Pendragon
Summary: (Continuation of my Victorian AU WIP) Merlin goes exploring and discovers more than he bargained for.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,166
Prompt: #491 - Athletic
Author's Notes:
You can find the previous parts of this story on AO3 here.
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12
After the ball incident, things between Merlin and Arthur settled down into a more formal, yet kinder sort of interaction-at least when they actually did interact.
Arthur had taken to having missives delivered via his father’s servant, detailing when Morgana would be available for sittings. He still attended as required, but he resolutely never looked Merlin’s way. Unlike previously, when Merlin had felt Arthur’s eyes on him regularly.
If guests visited the Pendragon’s, Arthur introduced Merlin kindly and praised his work, involving Merlin in conversation as he would any new acquaintance. Whilst Merlin could not complain-Arthur was polite and respectful-things between them were now lacking. Arthur had closed himself off and Merlin missed him. Not that he was sure he’d ever had Arthur in the first place.
Once Merlin had completed his sketches, he no longer required Morgana to sit for him-for now at least, which left Merlin with more time on his hands than ever. He grew restless and bored without a friendly face to talk with. He spoke regularly in the mornings with Freya, one of the maids. She was a kind, funny, and sweet girl. But he hated to get her in any trouble for talking with a strange man or slacking off just because he was lonely.
Instead he started investigating the house to amuse and satisfy his curiosity. Now that Merlin was intimately familiar with all the rooms around him in the guest wing of the Pendragon’s house. He cautiously set out to investigate other parts of the stately home.
It was during one of these explorations that he came across a wing of the house that was evidently for the more practical elements of life at Pendragon mansion. First, there had been the library, which Merlin had been aware existed, but had never been inside. Arthur often disappeared through this door. It was one of the most beautiful rooms Merlin had ever seen-including the magnificent dining room-filled from floor to ceiling with bookcases. A tall ladder allowed access to the upper shelves and there were wide windows to let in lots of light. It was warm and cosy. Merlin could see why Arthur enjoyed spending time there.
He’d found other rooms there too. Some were locked. Some were studies that were evidently not seeing much use and others were used as storage for various items of furniture. Merlin had been enjoying perusing them yesterday when he’d been called away for dinner. Now, with time to kill whilst paint dried on his portrait, Merlin returned, his curiosity piqued as to what he’d discover next.
As he made his way down the corridor, Merlin started to hear strange noises that he couldn’t quite place coming from the far end of the hall, where one of the doors was slightly ajar.
Creeping down the passageway, it occurred to Merlin that he wasn’t sure if he should be there if someone else was present. Usually, he tried to keep himself to himself in others homes. He’d just take a peek to satisfy himself and then return to his room to do some sketching.
Merlin peered through the gap of the door.
Inside the room there appeared to be a rather strange array of pulleys attached to machines, and a row of weights. Merlin frowned. He’d never seen such a thing before. What was this room used for?
He heard the noises again, and he felt himself flush when he realised that the sounds were of a man panting and… straining?
Cautiously, Merlin pushed at the door, it creaked a little and Merlin held his breath as the person inside the room appeared to stop.
Quiet, Merlin told the door, feeling the familiar warm tingle of his magic flow through his fingertips and into the door. He gave it another nudge and this time it opened silently. He held his breath as the person started doing whatever it was they were doing again, and slowly, he poked his head around the door.
What he saw made his mouth go dry. There in the far corner was Arthur, sitting on some kind of contraption, his arms moving in a rowing motion as the seat slid back and forth.
Merlin watched with fascination as Arthur bent and straightened his legs. His breeches were tight-as per the current fashion-and left little to the imagination when it came to his huge, firm thighs. His shirt clung to his back, damp with sweat as his broad shoulders pulled taut when they lengthened and then contracted. Merlin was mesmerised.
He continued staring, unable to take his eyes off him as Arthur carried on; his breathing harsh and hard as he pushed himself.
This must be how Arthur remained so fit. Merlin had been more than a little impressed by him during their morning tumble together, but their time had been so short it had hardly been conducive to admire Arthur as he deserved to be admired.
Now he could take a moment to fully appreciate him with his artist’s eye, tracing the lines of his muscles and limbs as they all worked together. Arthur seemed to speed up, as though challenging himself to push even further, until finally, he slowed down and stopped, drooping over the device as he panted for breath. Merlin shivered, a tingle of lust travelling down his spine, directly to his groin as he remembered the sound of those pants against his ear. Arthur groaned and stretched, startling him. Merlin blushed as he found himself painfully aroused, and as Arthur started to get up from the rowing contraption he hurriedly hid himself back behind the door, praying Arthur wouldn’t find anything amiss.
When he finally dared to take another peek Merlin’s eyes almost fell out of his head. Arthur stood by the windows of the room as he shucked off his shirt. He threw it aside and drank from a glass of water. Merlin hungrily mapped out his newly exposed athleticism. Arthur seemed to glisten with the effort of his exertions and Merlin was torn between the desire to sketch him capturing this image forever, or to run off and let his imagination run wild with thoughts of Arthur ravishing him.
Arthur reached out for a towel to mop his brow and then walked over to the rack of dumbbells. He selected two of them and then sat on a chair as he did some arm reps. Merlin closed his eyes against the image and pressed a hand to his breeches, fantasising about those arms, those hands, wrapping around him and well…
Merlin shifted a little, his boots scraping on the floor.
Arthur’s head turned.
Merlin didn’t hang around to see if he’d been caught. With a flash of his eyes he quietened his boots and dashed off as fast as he could.
Once inside his own room, he locked the door firmly, then slid down the wall, thrusting a hand into his trousers. He sighed with relief. That had been a bit too close.