Kink Me! #12
Kink Me! #12
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Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #12!
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Merlin does.
It's both completely unlike and far, far better than Arthur had imagined.
Arthur's pretty sure lip stain has never looked so downright obscene on any woman. How could it? Merlin's lips are full at the best of times but like this, stained dark red, they are nothing short of stunning. But it certainly doesn't make him look sweet, or acquiescent, or any of the other misguided notions Arthur had. Instead he's confident and beautiful as he lifts Arthur's hands to the headboard and curls his fingers around it.
"Keep them there," he orders, in a tone so absolutely confident that disobedience never even enters Arthur's head.
Then Merlin goes to work on Arthur in a way he's never known before. He's everywhere, skin on skin, hands roaming Arthur's body possessively, and that mouth, that sinful blood-red mouth is relentless. Merlin wets his lips intermittently and leaves bright red marks wherever he goes. The softly ghosted kiss over his collarbones only leaves a faint red mark, while the attention he lavishes on Arthur's right nipple leaves a neat, dark circle. The bruise he sucks into Arthur's upper thigh leaves a filthily smeared mark, even as Merlin's hands roam across his chest, blurring the evidence of his kisses.
And then - and Arthur really, really can't quite get his head around this - Merlin gives him a wicked smile with smudged pink lips and reaches across Arthur for the little crystal pot. He kneels there between Arthur's legs and reapplies the stain with his forefinger, and something turns over in the pit of Arthur's stomach and he hooks a leg around Merlin's waist, heel running over his back. Merlin smiles down at Arthur with red, red lips, a decidedly smug smile, and then slips out of Arthur's grip and shuffles down the bed a little.
"Merlin," Arthur says, his voice shaking, and Merlin just grins wider.
He leans closer, a soft kiss to Arthur's hipbone before he says, "What was it you wanted, Arthur? My pretty red lips, yeah?"
"Nngh."
"Stretched so wide, yeah?"
Arthur knows full well that he's being taunted, and he really does object, on some quiet level, but all he can muster up is, "Yes, yes, Merlin - "
Merlin's hands run up the inside of Arthur's thighs, pushing his legs wider, and Arthur's painfully aware that he's exposed and that he's vulnerable, and that he loves it.
"Tell me," Merlin says, his voice rough, close enough that his hot breath feels scalding on the wet tip of Arthur's cock.
"Merlin," Arthur says, and he doesn't really need to beg after that, it's all there in his voice, naked pleading. "Suck me, please. Your mouth, God, that mouth, too much, so fucking perfect - "
And while Arthur's still babbling about the shape of Merlin's lips, those same lips wrap around the head of his cock, Merlin's mouth sinking down on him in a rush, then backing off. It doesn't stop either, Merlin keeps up the pace, and he actually moans, like he loves it, like he needs it.
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Instead, Arthur gives up his white-knuckled grip on the headboard and sinks one hand into Merlin's hair, the other fisting tight in the sheets, pulling them askew as he gasps and shakes, urging Merlin to take a little more, just a little more. Merlin does, his stretched lips dark and his cheeks hollowed and his fucking eyes, dark and bright at once, staring at Arthur like he's utterly in control, like he knows Arthur now, sees him now.
Arthur's hands tighten, in Merlin's hair and in the sheets, and he's unashamed as he cries out, his hips twisting against Merlin's surprisingly strong grip. Merlin doesn't let up then either, sucking Arthur through his orgasm, wet and filthy and so good Arthur thinks he might die of it. Instead Merlin finally backs off with a few last licks to Arthur's softening shaft and then moves up his body faster than Arthur's addled mind can process.
The kiss Merlin presses to his mouth is hot and demanding, tasting of berries and Arthur himself, promising that they are a long way from finished.
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i love you. that is all.
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Loved this, in particular:
Arthur gives up his white-knuckled grip on the headboard and sinks one hand into Merlin's hair, the other fisting tight in the sheets, pulling them askew as he gasps and shakes, urging Merlin to take a little more, just a little more. Merlin does, his stretched lips dark and his cheeks hollowed and his fucking eyes, dark and bright at once, staring at Arthur like he's utterly in control, like he knows Arthur now, sees him now.
Arthur's hands tighten, in Merlin's hair and in the sheets, and he's unashamed as he cries out, his hips twisting against Merlin's surprisingly strong grip.
I love that Merlin didn't want this at first, to be painted, until he caught a glimpse of why Arthur craved it. That little bit of wrong (for lack of a better word). ...like he knows Arthur now, sees him now.
Mmmm, very hot.
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