Kink Me! #34
Kink Me! #34
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Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #34! :D
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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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-and sees Merlin who’s just entered the tent, slack-jawed and gripping precariously at the tent flaps like his life depends on it. Arthur feels a kind of satisfaction at being the one to throw Merlin off-guard this time.
“Arthur?” Merlin ventures, even though he makes no attempt at all to hide the naked desire on his face as he drinks the sight of Arthur in: breeches down to his knees and tunic racked halfway up his chest, finger up his arse and hand around his wet, hard cock.
Even so, Arthur feels like he needs to salvage whatever’s left of his dignity in this situation.
“I’ll have you know this is your fault,” Arthur says, in his most indignant royal voice. “And I fully expect you to take responsibility for it.”
“How might I do that, sire?” Merlin says, a grin beginning to spread over his face even as he’s already pulling his tunic off.
“Well, to start, you can bloody well get over here. Do I have to tell you what to do all the time?”
“You like ordering me around, just admit it.” Scrambling over to where Arthur is laid out against the mess of thick, soft pelts, Merlin wastes no time pulling the furs aside before sliding a hot, eager hand over Arthur’s bare skin. “Arthur, you might be the most pompous and arrogant potato-head prince I’ve ever had the misfortune of serving, but oh, you are so fucking gorgeous. Did you know that?” He stretches out his fingers, just brushing lightly over the smooth dips and curves of Arthur’s chest and stomach as if he can’t believe Arthur’s real. “What a shame it’s wasted on you, eh?”
“Half an hour ago you had me convinced you actually knew how to talk dirty, and here you are insulting me? Is that your idea of seduction?”
“You’re different,” Merlin says, smiling as he tilts Arthur’s chin up and strokes it with his thumb. There’s more than cheekiness to it now, a kind of heavy reverence to his expression. “You’ve always been different. And I like flustering you.”
Arthur laughs disbelievingly and slides his hands down Merlin’s shoulders to the long, strong lines of his arms. “You did more than just fluster when you said all those things, you... how did you even learn to talk like that?”
“Did you really think I was an innocent, Arthur?” Merlin straddles him, rocking against him with a slow glide, and Arthur can feel Merlin too through the thick cloth of Merlin’s breeches. It’s maddening. “I’m not as clueless as you think.” He slips a hand under Arthur’s tunic and pinches a nipple sharply.
“You are a man of many surprises.” Bucking into the touch, Arthur moans and pulls Merlin down by his hair. “Tell me, Merlin,” he says, even as he tugs at Merlin’s earlobe with his teeth and relishing the way Merlin shakes against him when he does, “Tell me what you want to do to me while you do it, tell me how you want us to fuck-”
“Arthur,” Merlin breathes, and then he’s frantically undoing his own breeches and kicking them off. “You don’t know how much I’ve thought about- whenever I took a man to bed and pulled at his hair, bit at his neck and rode his cock, I wanted so much for him to be you-”
“Fine, yes, that was then and this is now,” Arthur snaps, but the effect seems somehow lost when his words turn into a sigh when Merlin dances light fingers up his cock. The wine seems to amplify everything he’s feeling, and when Merlin mouths down his neck and flicks a nipple with his fingers, Arthur groans and moves against Merlin for more of that sweet, slick heat.
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“So wet for me, aren’t you? I don’t even think the last girl I bedded was this wet. Even if you’re too proud to beg me, Arthur, your body says otherwise.” Merlin brings dripping fingers to Arthur’s mouth, and he licks at it, so far gone that he actually takes the digits into his mouth down past the last knuckle, tongue swirling and taking the bitter taste of himself in. “Oh, Arthur, look at you. What a sight.”
“Merlin,” he manages. His own voice sounds wrecked.
Merlin shushes him and presses him down. “I didn’t dare think you might - but I came prepared.” There’s the sound of a small bottle being uncorked, and then Arthur has his legs pushed open and lifted just the slightest bit, exposing his hole. The next thing he knows, there’re cool, slick fingers pushing at him, and then a finger filling him up. “Whoa,” Merlin murmurs, almost in awe. “You’re just greedy for it, aren’t you, Arthur?”
He crooks the finger inside him, and Arthur is lost as he grabs fistfuls of Merlin’s hair where Merlin’s leaning over him, enticing like this, all debauched with red lips and calculating blue eyes. “Don’t stop,” Arthur demands, squeezing his eyes shut as he moves against Merlin’s finger, slowly, riding it. “Don’t you dare stop, Merlin, that’s an order.”
“I didn’t intend to, sire,” Merlin says, looking distracted, but he leans down and kisses Arthur, finally, and it’s... Arthur’s not sure what he expected. While he’d thought Merlin was popular with the girls in the castle to a degree, Arthur had never really imagined how Merlin was like as a kisser. It’d just never crossed his mind. Now, though, with Merlin leaning in to bite gently at Arthur’s lips before leaning in to dominate their kisses every now and then, Arthur finds he rather likes it. Shy, at first, the way Merlin so awkwardly asks for things, but playful and challenging once things escalate.
Yeah, all right, Merlin’s a hell of a kisser.
Merlin pulls out then, though, and runs his fingers through Arthur’s hair, playing with the strands at his fringe before he licks at Arthur’s mouth. “I won’t take you tonight because we should ease your way into it for next time-”
Arthur rests his hands on Merlin’s bare hips and grins up at him, all teeth. “So there is a next time.”
And now, now Merlin picks the moment to be shy, but he still doesn’t let up on giving Arthur lip. “Well, I suppose I could always find another knight to bugger, sire, yeah?”
He takes one of Merlin’s fingers into his mouth and bites it. “You insolent, brazen thing. We’ll do this again, you have my word.”
“I am so up for that. And I do mean up.” Merlin leers at him and then takes both of them in hand, stroking their cocks lazily. It’s fucking fantastic, and for all the jokes the knights make about two men lying together and the ten thousand or so variations on ‘swordfight’ euphemisms they’ve sniggered at, Arthur thinks he could get used to this.
“You’re terrible.” Arthur can’t stop grinning, and then he arches back when Merlin grips him, hard. “Oh, you’re good at that.”
“So I’ve been told. I want you to fuck me, sire,” Merlin says offhandedly, reaching for the salve and raising an eyebrow at Arthur, challenging. “Unless you don’t think you can handle it, tonight.”
“Brat. I’m going to fuck you like a well-hung Albion stallion, Merlin, just you wait.”
Merlin bursts into laughter. “Am I your ribald, frisky Mercian mare tonight, Arthur?”
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A/N: Need to continue writing more after this, so might be a while!
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*claps*
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sdfvgkl;dl'
flgk;dfk;lbgkv;d
*DEAD*
omgggg omggggggggg omgggg this is the hottest thing ever. NNGH, Merlin and his mouth!
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