Fic: Radiator
Title: Radiator
Rating: PG-13 (or maybe a really light R :s)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: you relax, wondering at how strange he is, and how nice. Just nice, here in the morning, being odd and pretty and himself, shivering with fingers pressed against the window, thighs up against the metal, cooling down after hours wrapped tightly in your arms.
A/N: I haven't written anything in second person in aaages, so this was kinda fun :) I wrote it for this prompt on kinkme_merlin
Arthur/Merlin, modern!au
You cool your bed-warm hands down on the broken radiator,
and when you lay them freezing on me, I mumble 'can you wake me later?'
Crack the shutters - Snow Patrol
I just want something with a cute scene like this.
Also on AO3 and FFnet
You feel him pull out of the bed beside you, and for a moment you scramble, hands reaching, but then he’s gone and you’re too sleepy to try; instead you pull the duvet up to your chin and watch through a tired haze, as he moves to the window sill. He’s naked, because neither of you bothered to get dressed again, after last night, and the double glazing isn’t hidden by the thick curtains, which he insisted on when you’d wanted blinds. He’s looking out, bright early morning sun giving him a black outline, cradling his thin frame. He’s completely lovely.
As you watch, he presses forwards, gasping slightly as his legs make contact with the metal radiator beneath the sill. For a moment, you’re on the brink of moving, of rolling out of bed because you think he’s burnt himself, clumsy thing that he is. You think he’s hurt, and you’ll have to take care of him, wrap him up in your arms and kiss him where it’s hot. Kiss him all over.
But then you remember last night, after he had finished writhing beneath you, black hair in disarray, gasping with shining eyes, a blissful smile beautifully distorting flushed cheeks, when he had moaned, “too warm.”
You remember getting up, and turning off the radiator, knowing that it would be like stone in the morning. Freezing cold.
So you relax, wondering at how strange he is, and how nice. Just nice, here in the morning, being odd and pretty and himself, shivering with fingers pressed against the window, thighs up against the metal, cooling down after hours wrapped tightly in your arms.
A little whimper escapes him, and you roll your eyes. What kind of man whimpers from the cold? He’s moving his hands now, standing back and letting them rest on top of the radiator, and you suddenly realise how sweltering it is beneath these sheets, and there’s moisture on your brow. A keening sound starts somewhere in your chest, and you’re almost surprised when it slips past your lips, and then you feel bad about rolling your eyes earlier. You’re exactly the same, except he’s wide awake and completely insane, and nothing like you at all.
He turns around, seemingly surprised to see you looking at him. Blurrily, you see him smile, and it makes your face do things in response; makes lips spring to attention; makes eyes crinkle and reduce irises to baby blue slits.
He’s back beside you in moments, and then a hand ghosts across your forehead, pleasant and cool, and you press against it. The other hand wanders across your side, skating over your ribs and leaving a trail of tingling cold. You want to drift again, with this ice melting on your skin. You want to sleep, before the sensation vanishes.
“Can you wake me later?” you murmur, a hand snaking round to catch his thin wrist, and pull him down to lie beside you. He chuckles, quietly, kisses you chastely on the corner of your mouth, and then snuggles against the flat planes of your chest.
He’s a lean line of comfort, and you wrap yourself around it, allow it to overcome you, and sink into unconsciousness with his breath, a breeze across your collar bones, comforting and safe and Merlin.
:
Rating: PG-13 (or maybe a really light R :s)
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Summary: you relax, wondering at how strange he is, and how nice. Just nice, here in the morning, being odd and pretty and himself, shivering with fingers pressed against the window, thighs up against the metal, cooling down after hours wrapped tightly in your arms.
A/N: I haven't written anything in second person in aaages, so this was kinda fun :) I wrote it for this prompt on kinkme_merlin
Arthur/Merlin, modern!au
You cool your bed-warm hands down on the broken radiator,
and when you lay them freezing on me, I mumble 'can you wake me later?'
Crack the shutters - Snow Patrol
I just want something with a cute scene like this.
Also on AO3 and FFnet
You feel him pull out of the bed beside you, and for a moment you scramble, hands reaching, but then he’s gone and you’re too sleepy to try; instead you pull the duvet up to your chin and watch through a tired haze, as he moves to the window sill. He’s naked, because neither of you bothered to get dressed again, after last night, and the double glazing isn’t hidden by the thick curtains, which he insisted on when you’d wanted blinds. He’s looking out, bright early morning sun giving him a black outline, cradling his thin frame. He’s completely lovely.
As you watch, he presses forwards, gasping slightly as his legs make contact with the metal radiator beneath the sill. For a moment, you’re on the brink of moving, of rolling out of bed because you think he’s burnt himself, clumsy thing that he is. You think he’s hurt, and you’ll have to take care of him, wrap him up in your arms and kiss him where it’s hot. Kiss him all over.
But then you remember last night, after he had finished writhing beneath you, black hair in disarray, gasping with shining eyes, a blissful smile beautifully distorting flushed cheeks, when he had moaned, “too warm.”
You remember getting up, and turning off the radiator, knowing that it would be like stone in the morning. Freezing cold.
So you relax, wondering at how strange he is, and how nice. Just nice, here in the morning, being odd and pretty and himself, shivering with fingers pressed against the window, thighs up against the metal, cooling down after hours wrapped tightly in your arms.
A little whimper escapes him, and you roll your eyes. What kind of man whimpers from the cold? He’s moving his hands now, standing back and letting them rest on top of the radiator, and you suddenly realise how sweltering it is beneath these sheets, and there’s moisture on your brow. A keening sound starts somewhere in your chest, and you’re almost surprised when it slips past your lips, and then you feel bad about rolling your eyes earlier. You’re exactly the same, except he’s wide awake and completely insane, and nothing like you at all.
He turns around, seemingly surprised to see you looking at him. Blurrily, you see him smile, and it makes your face do things in response; makes lips spring to attention; makes eyes crinkle and reduce irises to baby blue slits.
He’s back beside you in moments, and then a hand ghosts across your forehead, pleasant and cool, and you press against it. The other hand wanders across your side, skating over your ribs and leaving a trail of tingling cold. You want to drift again, with this ice melting on your skin. You want to sleep, before the sensation vanishes.
“Can you wake me later?” you murmur, a hand snaking round to catch his thin wrist, and pull him down to lie beside you. He chuckles, quietly, kisses you chastely on the corner of your mouth, and then snuggles against the flat planes of your chest.
He’s a lean line of comfort, and you wrap yourself around it, allow it to overcome you, and sink into unconsciousness with his breath, a breeze across your collar bones, comforting and safe and Merlin.
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