Patron of the Arts - part 4
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Patron of the Arts - part 4
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Arthur always loved to draw but when his father refused to allow it, Arthur left it all behind. Until he met Merlin.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 530
Camelot Drabble Prompt 516: Almost
Author’s notes: none
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Arthur was nervous.
Saying he was going to take off his clothes and actually taking them off were two different things. He stood there in the back room of Merlin’s flat, the bed made but piled with props behind him, and watched at Merlin gathered supplies and set up a canvas. Arthur tried not to shiver with anticipation.
Merlin, on the other hand, was talking nonstop about positions and colours and using mirrors since he was going to base Myrddin on himself again. Finally, he glanced up, biting his lip, looking like he was trying not to laugh.
It didn’t help Arthur’s nervousness. At all.
At least, they had already decided on what Merlin was going to paint. He had done several sketches and Arthur, trying not to gather them all up and take them home to try and copy Merlin’s techniques, chose his favourite of them all. Arthur dying and Myrddin desperate to save him. The agony and love on King Arthur’s face was amazing, and even in black and white, Arthur could see the anguish in Myrddin’s face.
It was going to be fantastic.
If only he didn’t have to worry about being naked and maybe a little too excited in the groin area for a painting of a dying Arthur.
Merlin looked over and frowned. “Umm, Arthur, you need to take your shirt off. And remove your trousers and shoes and put these on, instead.” He handed Arthur what looked like ancient braies and boots and chainmail which was surprisingly heavy.
Struggling, Arthur finally stood there in boxers, shivering a little in the cool air, holding onto the props. He must have looked bewildered because Merlin came over, leaned down and helped Arthur into the braies, Merlin’s face right there, right at Arthur’s groin and it was embarrassing and exciting and Arthur had to think about pustules and old people to keep from getting hard.
Merlin didn’t notice or maybe he did, but he didn’t say anything, just got up again, nodded toward the bed, and muttered something about boots.
When Arthur sat down and put the boots on as Merlin asked, Merlin grunted a little, then his face flushing, he came over and positioned Arthur on the bed, draping the chainmail and armour just so, before he began to draw on the canvas.
Arthur thought it would be a few minutes at most, but it took hours before Merlin was satisfied, sometimes complaining about Arthur moving or making a face. The bed was comfortable at least.
A little too comfortable. In the end, Arthur did fall asleep, and it was only Merlin shaking him awake that Arthur realised how late it was.
Never mind that they bumped heads. Arthur’s forehead was going to have a large bruise on it but then Merlin reached over to gentle Arthur’s pain, forgetting that his fingers were charcoal-dusted, and smeared black all over Arthur’s skin.
In the end, they both laughed about it and cleaned up and that was that.
--------------
The next weeks were torment. Arthur’s dreams were full of Merlin’s smile and gentle hands turning rough and pulling the most brilliant pleasure out of Arthur.
If only it were true in real life, too.
Title: Patron of the Arts - part 4
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: Arthur always loved to draw but when his father refused to allow it, Arthur left it all behind. Until he met Merlin.
Warnings: none
Word Count: 530
Camelot Drabble Prompt 516: Almost
Author’s notes: none
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
-----------------
Arthur was nervous.
Saying he was going to take off his clothes and actually taking them off were two different things. He stood there in the back room of Merlin’s flat, the bed made but piled with props behind him, and watched at Merlin gathered supplies and set up a canvas. Arthur tried not to shiver with anticipation.
Merlin, on the other hand, was talking nonstop about positions and colours and using mirrors since he was going to base Myrddin on himself again. Finally, he glanced up, biting his lip, looking like he was trying not to laugh.
It didn’t help Arthur’s nervousness. At all.
At least, they had already decided on what Merlin was going to paint. He had done several sketches and Arthur, trying not to gather them all up and take them home to try and copy Merlin’s techniques, chose his favourite of them all. Arthur dying and Myrddin desperate to save him. The agony and love on King Arthur’s face was amazing, and even in black and white, Arthur could see the anguish in Myrddin’s face.
It was going to be fantastic.
If only he didn’t have to worry about being naked and maybe a little too excited in the groin area for a painting of a dying Arthur.
Merlin looked over and frowned. “Umm, Arthur, you need to take your shirt off. And remove your trousers and shoes and put these on, instead.” He handed Arthur what looked like ancient braies and boots and chainmail which was surprisingly heavy.
Struggling, Arthur finally stood there in boxers, shivering a little in the cool air, holding onto the props. He must have looked bewildered because Merlin came over, leaned down and helped Arthur into the braies, Merlin’s face right there, right at Arthur’s groin and it was embarrassing and exciting and Arthur had to think about pustules and old people to keep from getting hard.
Merlin didn’t notice or maybe he did, but he didn’t say anything, just got up again, nodded toward the bed, and muttered something about boots.
When Arthur sat down and put the boots on as Merlin asked, Merlin grunted a little, then his face flushing, he came over and positioned Arthur on the bed, draping the chainmail and armour just so, before he began to draw on the canvas.
Arthur thought it would be a few minutes at most, but it took hours before Merlin was satisfied, sometimes complaining about Arthur moving or making a face. The bed was comfortable at least.
A little too comfortable. In the end, Arthur did fall asleep, and it was only Merlin shaking him awake that Arthur realised how late it was.
Never mind that they bumped heads. Arthur’s forehead was going to have a large bruise on it but then Merlin reached over to gentle Arthur’s pain, forgetting that his fingers were charcoal-dusted, and smeared black all over Arthur’s skin.
In the end, they both laughed about it and cleaned up and that was that.
--------------
The next weeks were torment. Arthur’s dreams were full of Merlin’s smile and gentle hands turning rough and pulling the most brilliant pleasure out of Arthur.
If only it were true in real life, too.