Kink Me! #30
Kink Me! #30
*closed to new prompts*Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #30! :D
First, read the rules before you post anything. We freeze or screen anything that breaks the rules! Got a question? Ask the mods!So you want to post a prompt or fill?
Your attention to detail helps make our archiving possible, and also tells us you've read the rules.
- Click for rules ( Read more... )
Merlin knew that he wasn’t normal. It wasn’t normal for a boy his age to want somebody else so much, was it? Surely, these things happened later, at least when you were sixteen or seventeen, like in those movies Gwen and Morgana loved to watch. It didn’t happen when you were thirteen and had just discovered the year before that you wanted to kiss boys and not girls. Surely his young body, too skinny, too lanky, too fragile, was not meant to hold this much wanting. And surely it wasn’t suppose to hurt so much, and make your bones and muscles strain from the restraint you put upon them to not reach and hold his hand. Not reach and touch his wrist. Not reach and kiss his lips.
Or maybe it was suppose to be that way, when you were made all wrong.
Because you were a boy and you liked other boys and this is just the way things went. This is just the way you were meant to feel forever. Because you have to keep your mouth shut, and your hands to yourself and pretend that you want to touch girls’ bums. You have to laugh conspiringly with the other boys when a girl your age walks by and you can see the straps of her new bra peaking from her shirt, signalling to all that, yes, she had breasts to grab, effectively fuelling all their, and your, wank fantasies for a month. And pretend that it wasn’t just a big lie. That it didn’t eat at you. Like you were not a fraud, a freak.
That you were not alone.
Merlin’s skin hadn’t stopped itching since that evening when he was waiting for his mum to pick him up from the Pendragon’s house, after having spent the afternoon with Gwen and Morgana. He had just been sitting there, on the front steps, and had seen Arthur walking up the long driveway, all sweaty and dirty from football practice. His hair had clung to his forehead, his skin flushed, his eyes impossibly bright, it seemed, even in the fading light of the day.
It had been like being punched in the stomach.
Arthur had walked up to him and, with a small smile and a groan, had sat beside him on the steps, slowly undoing the laces on his dirty cleats.
“Hey” he had said with a quick glance in Merlin’s direction and a grin “What are you doing?”
Merlin had had to physically stop himself from moving away, or moving toward him (it was a toss up), grabbing the edge of the step in a painful grip. Arthur had smelled like salt and grass and sunshine and Merlin had followed the trail of a drop of sweat from his forehead to the side of his neck with his eyes, wanting desperately to just catch it with the tip of his finger. He held on to the step tighter. His throat was dry and it had taken him too long to answer. Arthur had frowned at him with concern. Which had surprised and confused Merlin even more since he was always prepared for annoyance, or even a mocking look, like usual, but not for concern.
“You alright, mate? You don’t look so good”, and Arthur had put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder.
And that had changed everything. It did things to Merlin’s body, tighten everything inside of him, twisting. Like there were knots in all of his veins, all of his muscles, his bones knocking together as they collided in the too tight space that he had become. All wound up in an intricate mess made by the mere touch of Arthur’s hand on his shoulder, his fingertips slightly digging into his skin, burning through his t-shirt.
Reply
“Yeah…just…just waiting for my mum”, his voice was horse and low “I don’t…I mean…I think I feel a bit sick”
And there it had been again, concern on Arthur’s face as he squeezed his shoulder a bit tighter. Oh God.
“Well, take care, yeah?” And with one small slap on Merlin’s back, Arthur had walked inside the house, leaving Merlin to painfully unfold his fingers from the edge of the step, all stiffed and bruised.
He had still been a mess when his mum had arrived. Still a mess later that night in his bed when he had stared at the ceiling well into the night, touching himself, pleasure and shame all over his body. Still a mess a year later when he sat in the shadows of the trees at Arthur’s birthday party, watching as Arthur, in his bright red swimming trunks, jumped into the pool, just to resurface a few seconds later, wet and laughing and utterly beautiful.
Still a mess. Always a mess.
His skin would not stop itching.
And so there actually wasn’t that much he could have done when Arthur had hauled himself out the deep end of the pool and ran to him a bright, blinding smile on his face. At first, Merlin hadn’t realize quite what was happening. Everything about Arthur was blinding, and his trunks clung to his legs and hips in ways Merlin really didn’t want to think about and it was unfair that Arthur’s body was already so powerful and proportioned and elegant in a way that no thirteen year-old’s body had a right to be. Because Merlin was just starting to grow, and it seemed that his arms had taken a head start and that he had shed his baby fat overnight and he was just a long, lanky sack of jutting bones and too-pale skin. When he walked he was awkward and hunched and clumsy and his limbs seem to always be in the way of the furniture.
He would have hated Arthur for his ease if he hadn’t loved him so much.
Arthur hadn’t been suppose to know he was there. Arthur wasn’t suppose to be aware. Earlier, Merlin had seen Gwen look around, obviously searching for him, and her gaze had passed right over him. He had folded himself so carefully. Damn his jutting bones and growing spurt, he was losing his touch.
Arthur had stepped right beside him, so close drops of water fell on Merlin’s arm and he had looked intently as they slowly slid toward his elbow, found himself fascinated with the way the light hairs on Arthur’s legs clung to his skin with water and how the waterfalls of droplets from his trunks curved around the defined muscles of his calves. Footballer’s legs Merlin had thought. He had been glad he was already holding his legs against his chest, otherwise the sudden tightening of his whole body would have been visible. Arthur’s toes had dug into the grass.
“Hey Merlin”, said in a voice that was cracking a bit.
Well, at least that was a bit comforting. Merlin’s voice was doing this constantly too.
He had (almost reluctantly) looked up only to be met by one of Arthur’s utterly disarming grin, one that reached his eyes and did things to Merlin’s stomach and lungs; the former twisting almost painfully, the latter suddenly, impossibly, unable to work properly. He had to clear his throat twice before being able to answer.
“Hey Arthur…Happy…um…Happy birthday”
“Thanks mate! Wanna come swimming with us for a bit? You’ve been here for a while…”
Reply
“Yeah, okay”
He should have known. Should have known that it wasn’t a good idea. Should have known that the second his wanting had clung to Arthur, it would just drag Merlin along and possibly, probably just kill him.
***
A/N: thank you for the lovely comments. Also, apologies for the weird past perfect tense, hopefully will catch up the the story soon and will write in normal simple past tense. I'm not sure why I did that, and I apologize if it causes any confusion.
Reply
I can't wait for more.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
I have this bad habit that I get little too exited :D lol
Gotta say you are awesome
Reply
Leave a comment