Kink Me! #4
Kink Me! #4 Closed to new prompts Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #4!
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They are in school. It is parents-teachers night. Teachers are sat behind desks spaced around the outskirts of the large rooms. In front of them, two or three chairs receive rotating parents and their child as they demand feedback or ask questions.
Aretha is zoning out. The biology teacher is laying her one again, and her father’s brow furrows more and more in discontentment. Aretha stops looking. She props her elbow on the table and leans her head on her hand, surveying the room. She would like to share an eye-rolling with Lancelot, but this pedagogic hour is reserved to Aretha’s classroom. Lancelot’s is next.
Instead, Aretha finds herself looking across the room to where Merline and her uncle are. They are chatting with the math teacher, happy. Merline’s head bobs up and down now and again, before a wide grin brightens her face with joy and pride. She couldn’t be more opposite Aretha at this moment, farther from her. Aretha looks away with a pang. Then she frowns down at herself. What was that?
“Wait, you got a 90% in the latest test? How did that happen?”
Uther’s voice brings Aretha back to matter at hands. She looks across the table to the teacher because she doesn’t want to meet her father’s eyes, nor answer his question. He’d only scoff more at the idea that it took someone else to ever get Aretha this far. The teacher takes the situation out of her hand. “A classmate helped her.”
Bleeding hell. Aretha closes one eye in anticipation for her father’s reproaches. When none have come, she glances at him and finds a scary pensive expression on his face. “That is a possible solution, when one is desperate. Who is this person?”
Arthur gulps, and wants to shake her head ‘no’ but settles for playing with strands of hair draping over her shoulder. The teacher doesn’t notice Aretha’s distress. He looks across the room to where Merline is and nods towards her with a warm smile. “Merline Dunaidh. Good girl, brilliant biologist, new and already beating science scores. Takes after her uncle alright.”
Aretha refrains from snorting at the good girl bit. That is not how she would have described Merline. Goody-doer, maybe, but not ‘good’. Memory catches Aretha unaware, a fleeting real-life flash-back: Merline’s cheeks cradled by Gwen’s soft hands, the girls kissing in the locker room when Merline was supposed to go home early because she was sick, and no one was supposed to walk by.
Aretha untangles her hand from where it had started gripping her hair and checks on her father to help chase the image away. To her horror, Uther looks to be considering something while assessing Merline. He nods to himself. Turning back to the teacher, he says, “Thank you. Are we done?” and is out of his chair before the teacher has finished nodding and extending his hand for a shake.
That done, Uther crosses the room in a few large strikes, people parting around him. Aretha scrambles out of her chair and hastes the follow, clutching her backpack. By the time Aretha catches up with him, Uther’s voice is booming a greeting to Merline’s uncle.
“Gaius, it is good to see you. Is this your charge?”
Merline’s uncle answers in the affirmative, and gives Aretha’s father a few facts about Merline having just moved him. At their sides, Merline mouths a question at Aretha, eyes darting back between Aretha herself and her father. Aretha shrugs. “I didn’t know they knew each other either,” she whispers. There is an awkward moment of silence between them before Merline breaks it. “How did it go with-“
Uther interrupts her. “Have you ever held a job, miss Dunaidh?”
Merline jumps at being addressed by an adult of a sudden. She stares at him a moment. “Hm. I’ve babysat a bunch? And my name’s Merline. Sir.”
“Good. Then consider yourself hired.”
Aretha splutters. “Father..!”
“No. This is for your own good. Merline, Gaius tells me you are free on Tuesdays and Fridays, correct?”
Merline looks lost. “Yes, but what-“
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Aretha watched Merline’s face take a bewildered expression that must match her own. Uther and Gaius have almost left the room, coats shrugged back on.
Merline catches up with them right before they are out the door, knocking into a desk and several chairs in her haste.
“Wait!” Uther turns, lifting a terrifying focused eye on her. Gaius looks amused. “Sir,” she says, addressing Uther. “I just-- what job are we talking about here?”
“To be my daughter’s science tutor, of course.”
//
That, Aretha thinks three weeks later when she’s straddling Merline’s lap on Aretha’s family sofa and licking into each other’s mouths, is probably not what he meant.
Aretha briefly thinks of exchanges of fluids and of things going boom. Like my brain! She giggles, sounds manic.
Merline tilts her head away with one last nip at Aretha’s lower lip. She looks concerned, of all things. Her fingers on Aretha’s nape are rubbing small circles into fine hair. “All right love?”
“Brill,” Aretha answers, and presses down again to be kissed. Merline obliges her immediately, and the world fades away once more.
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//
Merline isn’t popular, but isn’t unpopular either. She doesn’t hang out with any set crowd, except if you count Morgana and Gwen as a crowd, which is debatable. Merline is friendly to everyone. The first time Aretha notices her is Merline’s first day at school.
Aretha is needling Morris to get his physics essay so she can add her name on it. Morris is saying something about being caught that she is ignoring. She has one hand grabbing the papers, another clicking unsheathe a fountain pen when someone plucks it out of her fingers.
“That’s enough, love.”
It doesn’t end with anyone hurt because the morning teacher walks in right as Aretha lunges herself at Merline, who fell against the prof and got a warning for it. Aretha isn’t sure what she herself was going to do, but she isn’t known for her even temper. In fact, the incident should have been unremarkable. Merline was as ordinary as they came, just more of a fool than most. Aretha is sure none of her friends will remember it in a week, except maybe for teasing Merline later on.
Still, it’s all Aretha can think about. She sends a goodnight text message to Lancelot that night and rolls back to stare at the ceiling, clutching her phone. She remembers Merline’s impish smile when called Aretha a “brat” and a “Princess” in the same breath, and the memory makes her burst out a laugh. She has to keep quiet, because it’s way past midnight and she’s supposed to be sleeping, but her shoulders shake with mirth for a while before she falls asleep.
//
The second time Aretha notices Merline, Merline gets a detention before even midday break. Aretha hopes Merline won’t get herself expelled too soon: she’s never had this much fun in the first week of school.
//
The third time they meet, night is falling. Aretha is scowling at a computer screen and clicking Undo savagely. She wants to rip the keyboard off and throw it across the empty computer lab. Instead, she rips her iPod’s earbud out of her ear, annoyed even by her music, and thuds her head on her open textbook by the mouse, defeated.
The lab’s door creaks open. Footsteps come in, stop. Aretha slants her eyes to the side to see Merline standing there with a surprised expression. Aretha ignores her. It would be easy to say something scathing, but Aretha doesn’t have the will even for that. She’s angry, tired, hungry, and not a bit closer to finishing her preparation for tomorrow’s biology laboratory. After a moment, Merline resumes walking and sits on the first place two rows in front of Aretha.
For a few faint beats from her discarded earbud, Aretha simply watches Merlin, feeling listless. Seeing her struggles with logging in, Aretha calls out. “You need to type in the class.”
“What?”
Aretha turns her head to the side to carry her voice better. “You need to type in our class number, on the first login of the year. After that they’ll confirm your password.”
“Oh. Thanks.” Merline’s voice sounds surprised. Aretha grunts.
When the playing song is done, Aretha sighs and tries again to make numbers cooperate. This was supposed to be easy, the others had said. It wasn’t for Aretha, but at least staying after class meant she could try to wrestle something together without an audience. Merline doesn’t count. What was she doing there at this hour anyway?
Thirty minutes later, Merline is collecting pages printing on the machine right behind Aretha. Aretha turns to look, and sure enough glimpses tables that look entirely too close to those she’s been trying to fill for the past few hours.
“Have you finished?”
“Yes,” Merline answers without inflection. “It wasn’t too hard.”
“Why are you still here to do them, then?” Aretha snaps.
Merline looks taken aback at the tone. She cocks her head, short curls slipping from behind an ear. “I had detention. Remember?”
“Oh,” Aretha says, and looks at her hands resting on the keyboard. “Sorry.” She is. She knows it is a miserable hour to still be at school.
“It’s alright. Our printer is simply broken at home. Are you… still doing it?”
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To Aretha’s surprise, instead of leaving, Merline plucks the next chair over, flips it around, and straddles it to look over Aretha’s shoulder to her screen. Merline stares at the screen in concentration while Aretha stares at her. Aretha is taking a breath to ask her exactly what is she doing, when Merline makes a triumphant little Ah and pokes at the screen, leaving a smudge. “There. You are using the wrong concentration. We’re using a pH of +7 for the second experience, not the first. We’re doing acidic first. That’s why nothing worked.”
Aretha frowns at her numbers and tweaks the ones underneath Merline’s fingerprint on the screen. She redoes the calculations and finds them to be working now. One done, three columns to go. She starts filling them with the same info, in case it also works. Merline stops her. “No, that’s going to be acidic too.” Before Aretha can ask, or perhaps ask her to bugger off, she explains. “See, we’re retaking a bit of the same liquid and mixing it further. Since conventions calls is acidic when it reaches…”
It takes a few minutes, but Merline is patient: Aretha finishes the first table at a record time for her. While she formats it properly, Merline fishes out a snack bar out of her messenger bag. Aretha tries not to make googly eyes at it. She must fail, because Merline snaps it in half and hands her a part of it wordlessly. Aretha nods her thanks around the first mouthful. It is not much, but Aretha nibbles on it as slow as she can while Merline watches her do the second table in silence, correcting the numbers only once by taping the screen at the error.
In twenty minutes, it’s all done and printed. Both screens and keyboard must be smudged with fingerprints and crumbles, but where Aretha would care at normal times, now she feels relieved. She takes an instant to beam at the pages, holding them at arm’s length, ink still fresh. She finds Merline looking at her with a warm smile when she lowers them. She feels shy all of a sudden. They make small talk as they packed their bags, when putting on their jackets, shouldering their bags, until they reach the exit doors and Aretha thumbs in the direction she’s going.
“By the way. Thanks. For tonight. Thanks, Merline.”
“You are welcome.”
They turn from each other. Aretha takes a few steps, and turns around. “Merline!” She calls out. Merline stops and face her. Aretha waves a few fingers. “See you tomorrow.”
Merline grins, and waves with her whole arm. “See you!”
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The tutoring is awkward, of course. Merline shows up late, in a torn jean skirt and a too big bright blue shirt. She fidgets the sleeves down her palms while Uther embarrasses Aretha by telling Merline exactly how much Aretha sucks at biology. He hurriedly leaves for a meeting with an airy kiss over Aretha’s shoulder and a nod at Merline. Why does she gets an actual eye contact? Silence falls while Aretha crosses her arms and Merline blinks at the closed door.
“Does he always…?”
“Yes.”
“Ah.” Merline says it like she’s seeing something in it.
Aretha gives up on pouting and clicks her heels to the boudoir. “Let’s just get this over with.” She ignores Merline’s amused expression.
Two glasses of water, biscuits and half an hour later, their progression through the class’ current chapter isn’t going well. Mostly because Aretha doesn’t give a fuck, and because Merline might be the oddest person she’s discussed with in, well, ever. Maybe because they have nothing in common, she decides.
Merline has short curly hair that escapes the plastic clips tying it back lock by lock every time Merline scratches at her head with an impish smile. Her eyes are very blue under her fringe, set off by the shirt only since she has no make-up on, though it looks more accidental than any trace of a fashion sense. That is clear by the fact it’s a cotton shirt, the worn, cheap, oversized kind one might wear in bed. It keeps slipping off one of her small shoulder, showing the black strap of her bra and hint of a freckled collarbone.
“Is that your boyfriend’s shirt?” Aretha blurts out, one second before remembering she was supposed to fake she was listening to Merline’s explanation of… something.
Merline’s mouth twitches. “Nah. I don’t… boys aren’t ...”
Aretha gape at her. “No way. You’ve never had a boyfriend?” She can’t be serious; she’s at least sixteen!
“No,” she drags on like Aretha is slow. “I don’t want a boyfriend.”
Aretha smiles and pats her knee. She confides: “They aren’t as bad as they seem. Trust me.”
Merline catches her hand and squeezes it, looks her in the eye. “Stop being a brat. What I mean is, I’m a lesbian.”
Aretha stares.
Merline cocks her head. “That means I like girls. That way.” When Aretha is still staring silently, Merline looks to be questioning Aretha’s brains even more. “I want to kiss girls, and date girls, and fuck -”
“Oh my God!” Aretha shushes her, looking around in case Uther’s going to step out from behind the curtains at any second. For all she knows, he’s bug the whole house. He never liked Lancelot, and can never know that Lancelot has spent several nights curled around Aretha, or about anything they might have every said on the phone on certain nights Aretha was feeling, well, lonely. “You can’t just say that!”
Merline laughs. “What, that I’m a lesbian, or that I want to lick girls’ clits?”
Aretha makes a high pitch noise and feels herself blushing terribly. “Stop that!”
Merline’s lips twitches again, but she relents. “Alright. So, as I was saying- ” and she goes right back to their lesson like nothing happened. Aretha is glad for it, and actually tries to concentrate to forget about all this.
Ten minutes results in five pages later that Aretha barely remembers.
“So… girls.”
Merline’s shoulders drop. “Get over it already.”
Aretha flails, before remember that she never flails. “No! I just, you know. Hum. What can girls even… Have you ever… done that? The, erm. The licking. Thing.”
She’s asking because her and Lancelot have never gotten that far. He’s had his fingers over her scrotch before, each stroking over trousers before moving on to pants. It had felt strange. Great, too. And so exhilarating that by the time she had clutched his hand to stop him, his fingers had been damp. From through the fabric. She had never told that to her friends, despite telling them all about the snogging. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to get this wet, if she hadn’t accidentally let go or something. She couldn’t possibly ask Lancelot to… or could she? Was that something only porn stars did? Maybe Merline would know.
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“How does it feel?” Aretha stage whispers.
“Erm. Awesome, I guess? She seemed to like it alright.”
Aretha looks to the side, takes a breath, and tackles the subject head on. “Isn’t there… juice? Everywhere?”
Merline has the temerity of laughing. Again. “Course. That’s the point, ain’t it?”
Aretha wouldn't know. She's a good girl, after all. She schools her expression as much as she can. “Doesn't it taste bad?”
“You’ve never tasted yourself?” Merline sounds honestly surprised.
Aretha flushes hotly again. “Of course not!”
Silence falls again. Merline looks at her dubiously. Aretha stands up, dishes in hand.
“I think we’re done. It’s past your hour.”
It is. Merline shrugs, gathers her things, pockets one more biscuit for the road. Aretha flickers her a smile and a goodbye, and is relieved to close the door. Merline is clearly -something. Not at all as innocent as she looks like. A sex witch or something, like Aretha’s cousin Morgana. She can’t believe they even talked about this. If Uther knew, he’d have a fit about his baby girl.
That doesn’t stop Aretha from biting her lip and tentatively slipping a hand inside her pants that night.
She flicks and rubs and presses. She doesn’t go in, or anything, she’s not sure about that yet, but she glides over, gathers wetness, and the rubbing gets beautifully smooth after that.
She bites her lip and clenches her eyes shut as she gets closer and closer, then drags a nail over her nub to get to that hurt that feels so good her legs clamp shut over her hand and she curls inward in a spam every time.
As she settles her breathing, she hesitates before wiping her hand off on the inside of her sweatpants. Then she raises her hand to her mouth and licks the tip of a finger.
It tastes the way it smells, but somewhat fainter and sweeter. Aretha traces her bottom lip, trying to put words onto it. When she slips one finger in, her tongue curls in reflex around it. The taste is stronger where she chases it underneath her nail. It’s really not bad. Maybe Lancelot wouldn’t mind. Or at least, she’s fairly sure that Merline wouldn’t.
Aretha abruptly tugs her finger out and buries her face in her pillow. “Oh, fuck.”
//
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Please continue, author! I'm more hooked than ever. :D
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