Kink Me! #34
Kink Me! #34
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Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #34! :D
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“Doesn’t work for you, Merlin?” Percival winks, and Merlin throws some leftover bread at him.
“Oh, I’ve got one.” Leon thinks for a moment. “‘Yeah, you’ve not had anyone for a while, have you? Your insides feel so good.’”
There’s a moment of skeptical silence while they mull it over.
“Yeah, nah, doesn’t quite work,” Owain says, and Elyan nods. “‘Insides, Leon?”
Leon strokes his beard. “Actually, you’re right, no. Huh. I wonder what possessed me to say that.”
“You amateurs,” Gwaine sighs, having finally stopped laughing. “You can’t be so damned technical about it. It’s about setting the mood.”
“Do tell, Sir Gwaine,” Arthur says sarcastically, and a few other knights murmur their agreement.
“Think of what she wants to hear, yeah? Try something like this: ‘I’ll kiss you down your back, tease you with my fingers until you’re soppin’ wet. You’re so proper on the outside, a real lady, but you really want to be fucked like a whore, don’t you? I’ll take you against the wall like a common slut, where anyone can hear you, yeah, and maybe someone will come watch us, but I won’t stop. I’ll keep fucking you through it, your legs around my waist, skirts hiked up as I grip your hips, and you will like it.”
He stops, raising a smug eyebrow, and holds out his hands in a challenging gesture as he looks around the circle of astonished men, some of whom have began to flush rather interesting shades of scarlet. Someone whistles, and Richard actually claps slowly for a bit, giving Gwaine a bit of a salute.
“Well, well, Gwaine,” Leon says, nodding at him and shaking his head. “They don’t call you a ladies’ man for nothing.”
"Ain't just the ladies," Gwaine says, grinning, winking at Leon. "Works on the lads, too."
“I’ll drink to that,” Percival says, blushing, tilting his wineskin up in Gwaine’s direction. “That was something else.”
“Don’t praise him too much, men, it’ll get to his head,” Arthur says, but he grins too, feeling the heat in his cheeks. “Would never have pegged you for someone who had a way with words though, eh, Gwaine?”
Gwaine shrugs, but winks at Arthur. “Nah, princess, mine’s a selective talent. Don’t got much use for words elsewhere unless it’s gettin’ people to pick fights with me.”
“That much is true,” Owain agrees. “Hey, Merlin, why don’t you have a go?”
“Oh, yes,” Gwaine crows. “I’d pay to hear our Merlin talk filthy. Goodness knows he’s certainly got the mouth for it. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll at least have a hell of a time hearing him say dirty things.”
“Gwaine!” Merlin turns to him, scandalised, turning beetroot red.
Arthur can’t help it, he snorts at that. “Merlin, talk dirty? He’s creative with insults, I grant you, but look at him! With the things he keeps saying around my father that lands him in the stocks every other day, what makes you think he wouldn’t be as clumsy with words in bed as he is on a daily basis?”
“Oh, is that a challenge, sire?” Merlin says, narrowing his eyes and folding his arms from where he’s seated.
“I do believe that the prince just verbally threw down a gauntlet, Merlin, yes,” Pellinore says, with a gleeful expression on his face. “This is going to be good, good entertainment.”
“Merlin, humour us,” Gwaine cajoles. “I’ll buy you drinks for a week.”
“I don’t even frequent the tavern that often, you ass,” Merlin says.
“Gaius would beg to differ.” Arthur waggles a finger at Merlin. “If you do this, I’ll give you a day off.”
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Mercian mares!
I am dying of joy. Cannot wait for more!!! <333
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“Well, not me,” Arthur begins, laughing at the very idea, but then Merlin cuts him off, blue eyes glinting. “So do you want me to be the one fucking, or the one being fucked?”
Something about the way Merlin says it silences the entire company of knights, who abruptly stop talking amongst themselves to pay the exchange between Merlin and Arthur the utmost attention.
There’s also the imagery, of course. Some of the knights on this excursion are no strangers to the idea of tupping men, particularly their squires, but up until this moment, Arthur is willing to wager that none of them were aware of Merlin’s preferences.
Especially not of this fresh, newly discovered fact where Merlin is implying he’s... flexible.
Arthur feels wrong-footed, like he’s about to tumble down a path of no return, but Merlin’s expression is earnest, and unimaginably intense. It’s rather unsettling how everyone is listening in too. “Right. Why don’t we start with you being fucked, then,” Arthur says, feeling the words tumble like lead from his mouth. “Uh, then you talk dirty while being the one who’s fucking?”
Merlin’s smile had been guileless just scarcely minutes before, but now he’s smirking at him, something that’s both familiar and unfamiliar all at once, like he’s a completely different person. “As you wish, then,” Merlin says, voice going low, “sire.”
Arthur sneaks quick glances around, and notes how everyone is still quiet, eyes focused on Merlin, each and every one of them looking as thrown as he is. Even Gwaine is looking at Merlin with his jaw opening and closing like a fish like he didn’t expect this, despite being the one to push Merlin into it.
“Any time now, then,” Arthur says, wondering what the fuck he’s started.
“So, me, being fucked. Since I’m in the company of knights, let’s just say I’m with one.” Merlin sits back, crossing his legs in front of him, and undoes his neckerchief. Arthur finds his eyes traveling up to the line of Merlin’s neck of their own volition, and clenches his hands in his lap. He's beginning to see Merlin in an entirely new light, he realises, and finds to his horror he's actually fascinated by this side of Merlin.
“Where shall I start?”
“Anywhere.”
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He pauses, and Arthur sees him take in his captive audience, a whole group of knights shifting uncomfortably in their chainmail, squirming around the fire. Merlin quirks a smile, and continues.
“Curl your fingers in my hair,” Merlin says, his country accent slipping into his words, and Arthur’s always made fun of the occasional time it emerges, but there’s nothing funny about how it colours Merlin’s descriptions even sultrier now. “Then yank my head back, savagely, like the beast you are. Take me, devour me; I like it rough, I like it deep, and I like it fast.”
He even throws in a moan, and Arthur’s never heard that from Merlin, ever, and is thus utterly unprepared for the way it goes straight to his cock. “Fuck, yes. Like that, ugh, harder. You know how I like it when you make me ready for you with your gloves on, slipping two fingers in as I shudder at the feeling of leather inside me. Like you’re so eager to fuck me you can’t even wait to take your gloves off, you just want to feel me opening up to you like the whore I am for you. I’m your whore, yeah? Your little slut, bent over and spread open for you. Bruise me, bite me, leave marks on me the way you’d leave Camelot flags on new land when you’re on a campaign. Conquer me in every sense of the word, plunder me and fuck me for hours, have my legs over your shoulders as you move in even deeper, push me down against your cock until I see stars-”
“Right,” Arthur croaks, feeling uncomfortably tight in his breeches. “All right, let’s move on.”
“Oh, sire,” Merlin lifts a thumb up to his lips, biting at the skin, fixing his gaze on Arthur. “And I was just getting started, too.”
Seeing Merlin do that does things to Arthur he can’t quite explain. He’s never even imagined Merlin in any kind of sexual situation, always laughing it off when the knights have mentioned it in passing or in jest, and here he is now stuck with the vivid images that Merlin’s painted for him swirling about in Arthur’s mind: Merlin with his legs around some man’s waist, Merlin egging someone to fuck him hard and fast, Merlin arching back as a knight in only a gambeson undoes his breeches and slides into him, fisting Merlin’s cock.
Gods.
“Just?” Gwaine says, voice a little strangled.
Merlin turns to smirk at Gwaine, and even though he’d blushed at Gwaine’s words earlier, there’s nothing shy about him now. “Why yes, Gwaine. I can talk dirty for hours with a woman or a man.”
Arthur wonders how Merlin would talk dirty as someone who takes control in a dominant role. He's thought about being with men, but not... not like this. If he’s to be completely honest with himself, he’d rephrase that to how he’s actually wondering what it’d be like to have Merlin fuck him.
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“I am strangely okay with this,” Percival says, eyes never leaving Merlin’s face.
“I second that,” Leon ventures, looking like he can’t believe what he’s saying.
“Very well,” Merlin says. “So let’s say I am, in this case, also tupping a knight, and that there are no objections to this hypothetical situation.”
“None at all,” Arthur finds himself offering.
“We’re in the armoury.” Merlin’s voice deepens again. “You’ve been making eyes at me all morning through the drill from the side of the field. Were you thinking of the way I fucked you just yesterday, I wonder? When you begged me to let you come, your cock wet and dripping against my fingers?”
Arthur suddenly has a vision of Merlin pushing him against the wall in the armoury, whispering these infernal things into his ear. He feels the flush traveling all the way down to his neck.
“You’re all sweaty from the training,” Merlin says, and now he looks at Arthur with intent. “The prince has been working you, and I’d be a liar if I say I wasn’t watching you as I collected weapons from the field with the other squires, admiring the way your muscles flexed. You writhed beneath me so lewdly just hours before, your back and hips slippery as I pulled you forward on the bed and you sank down on my cock, easy-like, all open and ready for me after all the hours of teasing I’d put you through. You’re already shaking and eager for it even now, you little cockslut.”
Merlin’s always been rather polite, even if he had questionable manners with royalty, so having Merlin actually say something so vulgar out loud has Arthur a bit startled, but to his mortification, it’s actually fucking turning him on. Leon exchanges a look of disbelief with Gwaine, and the rest... well, rather than being put off by it, seem all the more interested, too.
Merlin laughs, low and husky. “I’ve had a great deal of practice taking armour off. I strip you down, slow, letting my hands roam over you as I take off your mail, unlace your gambeson, remove your breeches. You’re stark naked in the armoury, your face flushed even in the partial darkness as I spread your legs, twist a salve-slick finger up inside you and feel you all hot and wet with my come and leftover salve still. You're my bitch, aren't you? Completely at my mercy. I slide another finger in, then two, hook one of your legs around my shoulder and lick down your cock, around your stones and down to your hole, where you still taste of me. And then I’ll lick around you with my tongue, moving my fingers inside you as I do.”
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“I know I’m a manservant, yeah? But here in the armoury, when you’re at my mercy with my tongue and fingers in your arse and your panting and groaning my name, you’re not a knight and I’m not Prince Arthur’s servant. Here, we’re two men, and I’m going to fuck you. You tell me to stop, because you’re ready, of course you are, you and your wet pussy like a girl’s. I’ll stand up, turn you around so you’re supporting yourself against the wall gripping one of the handles with your back to me, and then I’ll take you from the back. I do love tupping men, because they can take it so much harder than some women can, and you’re no exception, all hard strong lines and so fucking tight around me.”
“Take him from the front,” someone says. It sounds like it could have been Richard.
Merlin tuts. “So demanding. Right. I’ll pull out, flip you around so your shoulders press against the cold wall, and then I’ll fuck into you, your head falling back, exposing your neck. It tempts me as I push into you, so I lean down and bite your neck where it meets your shoulder, sucking a mark there. You pant for more, yeah, you want me deeper, like you can’t get enough. We fucked just yesterday, and the day before, and you’ll have me any way you can get me.”
He stops briefly to stoke the fire, then smiles a secret little smile that he turns on each and every one of them, looking at every single knight until they meet his eyes and look away quickly out of embarrassment. And then he looks at Arthur, and holds his gaze as he starts talking again. “You’ll have me take you in an alcove, out of your armour, scrabbling for a better hold against the wall as I fingerfuck you and milk your cock, coaxing every last moan out of you even though you try to keep it down, try to keep quiet, but you can’t help yourself,” Merlin says casually, like he’s describing the weather. “And maybe you want people to find us, maybe you secretly want to get caught. Maybe you want people watching us, touching themselves as you’re spread wanton against the wall, or maybe when you fall to your knees and gag on my cock, loving every minute of it.”
“Merlin,” Arthur coughs, and doesn’t quite meet Merlin’s eyes. “I think we should... should get ready for bed. We’ve a long ride ahead of us tomorrow.” He curses himself the moment he says that, because Merlin picks up on it and just raises a knowing eyebrow.
“A long ride,” he says, voice laden with meaning. “Of course, sire.”
He’s never heard Merlin use his titles so much in the space of one evening, and especially not in that voice. The little shit. “While it was indeed very, ah, entertaining and no doubt enlightening for some of us, we’ll, um, have to put a stop to it now.”
“Can’t handle it?” Merlin whispers, just loud enough for Arthur to hear. He gives Merlin a sharp glare, feeling his face flush. He feels his face growing hotter when Merlin gives him a cursory once-over, gaze eventually flicking to his groin and back up to Arthur’s face.
“Right, men.” He turns away from Merlin, and can still feel those damned eyes on his back. “First watch to Pellinore. The rest of you, remember your duties. We’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’ll just put these away first, shall I?” Merlin says, before winking at a couple of the knights who scurry off towards their tents, red-faced. If not for the mail discreetly covering their crotches, Arthur reckons a few of them will be sporting some noticeable bulges. Small blessings.
Arthur heaves a put-upon sigh. “You’re supposed to help me take off my armour, but knowing you, you’ll take ages otherwise, so go get that done and don’t wake me up in the tent later when you come in.”
Merlin doesn’t respond, but Arthur thinks he hears a chuckle a short while later.
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REFRESHING LIKE CRAZY. <3___<3
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HAHAHA, I KNOW RIGHT, he's so transparent. Silly boy. Still has to make references to Arthur even if he's talking about fucking/being fucked by some unnamed knight. (Gentle reminder to Merlin that Arthur's a knight too, obv).
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Groaning to himself and throwing an arm over his forehead, Arthur bemoans his terrible decision (made practically unanimously with all of his knights on this trip) to get Merlin to talk dirty at the campfire. In his defense, though, he thought it would be a source of amusement, and not this ridiculous sexual frustration. He’d spent the last five minutes or so trying to talk down his erection to assume a less hindering state, but he hasn’t had much success.
Then there’s the fact that Merlin’s sharing his tent tonight. He’d probably never let Arthur live this down for getting turned on by mere words. And by things that Merlin had said, of all people. Having seen how his knights were similarly affected does make Arthur feel marginally better, because he’s privy to the knowledge that most of them only lie with women. And yet, if their reactions were anything to go by, Merlin had really left an impression.
Merlin is probably still putting some things away and getting ready for bed, Arthur thinks drowsily, turning in his furs. He might have discovered Merlin has one hell of a talent for getting people hot and bothered with the power of his words alone, but it is oddly comforting to remember, deep down, that Merlin is still his bumbling and incompetent manservant. At least that’s not changed, even though he’s... well. Now Arthur would have some very notable difficulties listening to Merlin talk about chores in the armoury and in Arthur’s chambers without having all those images spring immediately to mind.
Bloody Merlin.
He shifts under his furs and sighs resignedly, still hard and aroused from earlier. Maybe if he does it really quickly, before Merlin comes back, he won’t have to worry about Merlin overhearing him later if he succumbs to the desire to touch himself with him in the tent.
Arthur ignores a sly voice in his mind that says maybe, maybe he wants Merlin to catch him in the act - and join him.
He unlaces his breeches, moaning a little in relief as he takes himself in hand. Closing his eyes and arching his back a little, Arthur finds his mind drifting to thoughts of Merlin. Dimly, he realises that he wants Merlin to... to say filthy things to him as he strokes himself. Merlin wouldn’t even have to be touching Arthur, per se, he’d just have to say those thrice-damned things to Arthur, breath hot against his ear.
Rubbing his thumb over the head of his cock, Arthur recalls what Merlin mentioned about fingers, and shakily takes his hand to his mouth, taking two fingers in and sucking them. The wet, slippery sound it makes is obscene, and Arthur finds himself shuddering at the thought of someone doing that to him.
It’s getting unbearably hot under his furs, so Arthur pulls them a little to the side, stretching out a leg against the pelt he’s on. Trembling just a little with anticipation, Arthur pulls his breeches down further and trails his fingers down his cock, behind his stones, pressing lightly against his hole. He doesn’t expect the subtle jolt of pleasure that accompanies that, and goes on to circle the rim, wondering what it’d be like to slide two fingers in while he fists his cock, and have someone lick at it.
Merlin’s wicked smile comes to the forefront of his thoughts, unbidden; the one he’d worn when he said, “Where you still taste of me,” eyes dancing with something darker than amusement, looking like he could devour Arthur alive if he were to choose to.
His damned manservant would be his undoing.
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