srin
in
mad_poetics
A Failure of Propriety
Title: A Failure of Propriety
(or, Go Tell It To Your Livejournal, Emo Arthur)
Pairings: One-sided Arthur/Merlin and Arthur/Morgana, semi-requited Arthur/Gwen, imaginary Merlin/Morgana and Gwen/Merlin/Morgana, real Arthur/his hand. Possible hints of OT4 if you squint hopefully.
Spoilers: Through 2x03
Rating: R
Length: ~1600 words.
Summary: Arthur wants everything he can’t have.
Notes: Stream-of-consciousness-y, vaguely porny angst set after 2x03. I don’t even know, it just crawled into my brain and wouldn’t go away.
Merlin was not supposed to laugh at Arthur. Merlin was supposed to blush, to hide his sad eyes behind embarrassment, so Arthur could tease him a bit, and then they could go back to Arthur’s chambers and drink too much wine and commiserate over not being able to have who they want, and maybe slump against each other in their cups, bodies warm and pliant together. That was how it was meant to go.
But instead Merlin laughed at Arthur, with that irreverent twinkle in his eye suggesting he knew something very important that Arthur didn’t, and practically dismissed him - dismissed Arthur, as if it wasn’t supposed to be the other way around! - and now Arthur is in his chambers all alone with the wine he doesn’t want and the thoughts he wants even less.
Because he can’t have what he wants. He can’t have Gwen, because his father would never stand for it, and he can’t be with her in secret because - he wants to tell himself that it’s because it wouldn’t be fair to her, because it would impugn her honour were anyone to find out, but the truth is that he’s scared. He’s scared of being discovered, he’s scared of mucking it up, he’s scared of allowing himself to feel any more for her than he already does. (He’s scared of allowing himself to feel, period.) He can’t have Gwen, but at least Gwen seems to want him as well, at least that’s a little mutual, unlike…
Arthur doesn’t want Morgana exactly, because she’s beautiful and brave but she’s also his sort-of sister, and she’s infuriating, and he certainly doesn’t want to marry her or anything, he just… She’s beautiful, and she’s brave, and she’s his sort-of sister, and he wants her to look at him with something other than contempt or wild-eyed fear. He wants her to come at him with a heat that isn’t born in anger or in passion for something, someone else.
And Merlin… Arthur doesn’t want Merlin. The way his heart sinks when Merlin frowns at him in disappointment doesn’t mean a thing, the way there’s a flutter in his belly when Merlin smiles that big stupid smile doesn’t mean a thing, the way he hates it when Merlin vanishes without a word, or lies to him while claiming he never would, (You can’t hide anything from me, Merlin - they both know how true that isn’t,) or fails to rise to his taunts - none of that means a thing. (And that’s why Arthur can’t have him.)
Merlin brought Morgana flowers. Merlin brought her flowers, and didn’t bring Arthur flowers. Gwen gave Merlin a flower once, and Gwen gives Morgana flowers all the time, and Arthur brought Merlin a flower that actually meant something once, but no one gives Arthur flowers. (Arthur doesn’t want flowers, they’re useless, they’re for girls, but - but it’s the principle of the thing.)
And he can’t give Gwen flowers, because he told her nothing more could happen between them, and he can’t give Merlin flowers because - because that would be ridiculous. And he can’t give Morgana flowers, because she would laugh at him, or else she would look at him in that smug pitying way of hers, and anyway he has an unnerving suspicion that Gwen would be unhappy if he gave Morgana flowers. And an even more unnerving suspicion that Gwen would not be unhappy for the reason he would like her to be unhappy about it.
Merlin brought Morgana flowers, and Merlin snuck out of Morgana’s room, and Merlin laughed at him and looked superior like - like Morgana looks superior. She must be rubbing off on him. They must be spending a lot of time together, even though they can’t; it’s not as though Morgana ever gave a toss for propriety and Merlin’s too much of an idiot to worry about such things. They must be spending a lot of time together, whispering in secret and smiling at each other, and touching each other, all those slender limbs and strong fingers and -
And Arthur is not thinking about them together. He is not thinking about how they would be together, Morgana with her head tilted up to receive Merlin’s kiss, her hair flowing loose down her back, and him leaning down to her, bending easily like a willow branch, full red lips on full red lips… He’d curl his hands carefully over the curves of her pale shoulders, (they’d be naked already, no barriers between them,) hold her gently at first, but then she’d throw her arms around his neck and pull their bodies together, her back arching to press her breasts tight against his chest, his breath hitching against her mouth, bright pink spots blooming on his cheeks.
She’d let him lead the way for a little while, licking along her tongue and trying to keep his wits about him, but then she’d steer him back towards her bed, hook her leg behind his knee and bear him to the mattress, the two of them sinking down smooth as a waterfall, and he’d laugh, startled and pleased and still a little overwhelmed by her, and she’d smile at him, warm and confident, and reach for his - his -
Arthur groans, frustrated, his stomach clenching with want. He shouldn’t - this is wrong, he shouldn’t be thinking of this, he shouldn’t be reaching for the ties of his breeches, feeling sick with desperation and need, but - but it’s not as though Merlin is going to come back tonight, he never hangs around any more, just does his duties and disappears, runs off to his illicit affair with Morgana and leaves Arthur alone with his head and his hand. So Arthur loosens the ties, and slips his hand inside, and thinks of Morgana’s hand - smaller than his, more delicate though never weak - wrapping around Merlin’s length, stroking him like this, light and teasing while he gasps, pants into her neck, and then he grabs her hips and rolls them over, slides down her body to suckle at her nipples. They’re hard, from the chill of the room and her arousal, tight little buds between Merlin’s lips and under his fingers, and she’s sighing, deep shuddering sounds, happy like Arthur’s never made her…
That thought makes Arthur’s chest hurt but he just grips himself tighter, speeds his strokes, thinks of Morgana feathering her fingertips over Merlin’s ribs, too slow to tickle, while he squirms, hips rocking mindlessly against her, and then he tugs her to him, kisses her again, wet and filthy, and she gives as good as she gets, the two of them tangled up in each other with no concern for their respective stations, moaning shamelessly at the pleasure of it…
It’s not fair. Arthur’s hard, aching, raw from the rough dry friction of his palm because he has no patience for being careful with himself, just wants to come and stop doing this, stop thinking about them, stop thinking about his almost-sister and his manservant who don’t want him, stop thinking about Gwen-
Gwen. Gwen hasn’t pulled away from Morgana like Merlin has from Arthur. What if Gwen walks in, what if Gwen walks into Morgana’s chambers and finds them like that, Morgana’s bent knees bracketing Merlin’s narrow hips while they move together… He tries to think that Gwen would feel like he does, betrayed and jealous, but his mind doesn’t cooperate, instead throws up images of her smiling, saying,
“Started without me, did you?” and Merlin looking up, breaking into a big stupid grin while Morgana holds out a hand for her.
Morgana tugs Gwen down to lay at her side, twists to kiss her while Merlin braces himself on one arm and reaches for the fastenings of her dress, fingers clumsy like - like they are on Arthur’s armour when it’s too early in the morning, or he’s distracted, thoughtless touches dropped over Arthur’s body while Merlin prattles on about something, while he’s probably thinking of Morgana, or thinking of Gwen, Gwen who laughs easily with him, doesn’t avert her eyes and say ‘sire’ like she’s calling down a wall between them because Arthur’s too much of a coward to -
To peel her bodice away like Merlin’s doing, slow-going with only one hand, (if Arthur were there he could help, he could -) to suck at her lower lip like Morgana is, hands roaming over her body. Merlin’s hips are still locked against Morgana’s, and Gwen’s returning Morgana’s kiss and shifting to give Merlin better access, and then she pulls away just for a moment, to shed the rest of her clothing, and then she’s back beside them, kissing Merlin this time while Morgana palms Gwen’s breast, rubs her thumb over Gwen’s nipple and rocks her hips into Merlin’s, to get him moving again. They’re all so beautiful together, making soft noises of want and joy, none of them missing a thing, perfectly content in one another while Arthur sits here alone, thrusting into one fist while the other’s stuffed in his mouth to muffle his grunts.
There’s no satisfaction in it when Arthur finally comes, just a release of tension in his groin and a heavy hollow feeling settling in his gut after.
Tomorrow Merlin will roll his eyes when Arthur barks orders at him, and Morgana won’t talk to him, and Gwen will say yes, sire, and walk away from him like any other servant. And images of them all twined together will rise unbidden in Arthur’s mind, and he’ll be curt with them to cover his shame. And come evening he’ll be here again, alone with his hand and his unwanted thoughts.
This is not how it was supposed to go.
(or, Go Tell It To Your Livejournal, Emo Arthur)
Pairings: One-sided Arthur/Merlin and Arthur/Morgana, semi-requited Arthur/Gwen, imaginary Merlin/Morgana and Gwen/Merlin/Morgana, real Arthur/his hand. Possible hints of OT4 if you squint hopefully.
Spoilers: Through 2x03
Rating: R
Length: ~1600 words.
Summary: Arthur wants everything he can’t have.
Notes: Stream-of-consciousness-y, vaguely porny angst set after 2x03. I don’t even know, it just crawled into my brain and wouldn’t go away.
Merlin was not supposed to laugh at Arthur. Merlin was supposed to blush, to hide his sad eyes behind embarrassment, so Arthur could tease him a bit, and then they could go back to Arthur’s chambers and drink too much wine and commiserate over not being able to have who they want, and maybe slump against each other in their cups, bodies warm and pliant together. That was how it was meant to go.
But instead Merlin laughed at Arthur, with that irreverent twinkle in his eye suggesting he knew something very important that Arthur didn’t, and practically dismissed him - dismissed Arthur, as if it wasn’t supposed to be the other way around! - and now Arthur is in his chambers all alone with the wine he doesn’t want and the thoughts he wants even less.
Because he can’t have what he wants. He can’t have Gwen, because his father would never stand for it, and he can’t be with her in secret because - he wants to tell himself that it’s because it wouldn’t be fair to her, because it would impugn her honour were anyone to find out, but the truth is that he’s scared. He’s scared of being discovered, he’s scared of mucking it up, he’s scared of allowing himself to feel any more for her than he already does. (He’s scared of allowing himself to feel, period.) He can’t have Gwen, but at least Gwen seems to want him as well, at least that’s a little mutual, unlike…
Arthur doesn’t want Morgana exactly, because she’s beautiful and brave but she’s also his sort-of sister, and she’s infuriating, and he certainly doesn’t want to marry her or anything, he just… She’s beautiful, and she’s brave, and she’s his sort-of sister, and he wants her to look at him with something other than contempt or wild-eyed fear. He wants her to come at him with a heat that isn’t born in anger or in passion for something, someone else.
And Merlin… Arthur doesn’t want Merlin. The way his heart sinks when Merlin frowns at him in disappointment doesn’t mean a thing, the way there’s a flutter in his belly when Merlin smiles that big stupid smile doesn’t mean a thing, the way he hates it when Merlin vanishes without a word, or lies to him while claiming he never would, (You can’t hide anything from me, Merlin - they both know how true that isn’t,) or fails to rise to his taunts - none of that means a thing. (And that’s why Arthur can’t have him.)
Merlin brought Morgana flowers. Merlin brought her flowers, and didn’t bring Arthur flowers. Gwen gave Merlin a flower once, and Gwen gives Morgana flowers all the time, and Arthur brought Merlin a flower that actually meant something once, but no one gives Arthur flowers. (Arthur doesn’t want flowers, they’re useless, they’re for girls, but - but it’s the principle of the thing.)
And he can’t give Gwen flowers, because he told her nothing more could happen between them, and he can’t give Merlin flowers because - because that would be ridiculous. And he can’t give Morgana flowers, because she would laugh at him, or else she would look at him in that smug pitying way of hers, and anyway he has an unnerving suspicion that Gwen would be unhappy if he gave Morgana flowers. And an even more unnerving suspicion that Gwen would not be unhappy for the reason he would like her to be unhappy about it.
Merlin brought Morgana flowers, and Merlin snuck out of Morgana’s room, and Merlin laughed at him and looked superior like - like Morgana looks superior. She must be rubbing off on him. They must be spending a lot of time together, even though they can’t; it’s not as though Morgana ever gave a toss for propriety and Merlin’s too much of an idiot to worry about such things. They must be spending a lot of time together, whispering in secret and smiling at each other, and touching each other, all those slender limbs and strong fingers and -
And Arthur is not thinking about them together. He is not thinking about how they would be together, Morgana with her head tilted up to receive Merlin’s kiss, her hair flowing loose down her back, and him leaning down to her, bending easily like a willow branch, full red lips on full red lips… He’d curl his hands carefully over the curves of her pale shoulders, (they’d be naked already, no barriers between them,) hold her gently at first, but then she’d throw her arms around his neck and pull their bodies together, her back arching to press her breasts tight against his chest, his breath hitching against her mouth, bright pink spots blooming on his cheeks.
She’d let him lead the way for a little while, licking along her tongue and trying to keep his wits about him, but then she’d steer him back towards her bed, hook her leg behind his knee and bear him to the mattress, the two of them sinking down smooth as a waterfall, and he’d laugh, startled and pleased and still a little overwhelmed by her, and she’d smile at him, warm and confident, and reach for his - his -
Arthur groans, frustrated, his stomach clenching with want. He shouldn’t - this is wrong, he shouldn’t be thinking of this, he shouldn’t be reaching for the ties of his breeches, feeling sick with desperation and need, but - but it’s not as though Merlin is going to come back tonight, he never hangs around any more, just does his duties and disappears, runs off to his illicit affair with Morgana and leaves Arthur alone with his head and his hand. So Arthur loosens the ties, and slips his hand inside, and thinks of Morgana’s hand - smaller than his, more delicate though never weak - wrapping around Merlin’s length, stroking him like this, light and teasing while he gasps, pants into her neck, and then he grabs her hips and rolls them over, slides down her body to suckle at her nipples. They’re hard, from the chill of the room and her arousal, tight little buds between Merlin’s lips and under his fingers, and she’s sighing, deep shuddering sounds, happy like Arthur’s never made her…
That thought makes Arthur’s chest hurt but he just grips himself tighter, speeds his strokes, thinks of Morgana feathering her fingertips over Merlin’s ribs, too slow to tickle, while he squirms, hips rocking mindlessly against her, and then he tugs her to him, kisses her again, wet and filthy, and she gives as good as she gets, the two of them tangled up in each other with no concern for their respective stations, moaning shamelessly at the pleasure of it…
It’s not fair. Arthur’s hard, aching, raw from the rough dry friction of his palm because he has no patience for being careful with himself, just wants to come and stop doing this, stop thinking about them, stop thinking about his almost-sister and his manservant who don’t want him, stop thinking about Gwen-
Gwen. Gwen hasn’t pulled away from Morgana like Merlin has from Arthur. What if Gwen walks in, what if Gwen walks into Morgana’s chambers and finds them like that, Morgana’s bent knees bracketing Merlin’s narrow hips while they move together… He tries to think that Gwen would feel like he does, betrayed and jealous, but his mind doesn’t cooperate, instead throws up images of her smiling, saying,
“Started without me, did you?” and Merlin looking up, breaking into a big stupid grin while Morgana holds out a hand for her.
Morgana tugs Gwen down to lay at her side, twists to kiss her while Merlin braces himself on one arm and reaches for the fastenings of her dress, fingers clumsy like - like they are on Arthur’s armour when it’s too early in the morning, or he’s distracted, thoughtless touches dropped over Arthur’s body while Merlin prattles on about something, while he’s probably thinking of Morgana, or thinking of Gwen, Gwen who laughs easily with him, doesn’t avert her eyes and say ‘sire’ like she’s calling down a wall between them because Arthur’s too much of a coward to -
To peel her bodice away like Merlin’s doing, slow-going with only one hand, (if Arthur were there he could help, he could -) to suck at her lower lip like Morgana is, hands roaming over her body. Merlin’s hips are still locked against Morgana’s, and Gwen’s returning Morgana’s kiss and shifting to give Merlin better access, and then she pulls away just for a moment, to shed the rest of her clothing, and then she’s back beside them, kissing Merlin this time while Morgana palms Gwen’s breast, rubs her thumb over Gwen’s nipple and rocks her hips into Merlin’s, to get him moving again. They’re all so beautiful together, making soft noises of want and joy, none of them missing a thing, perfectly content in one another while Arthur sits here alone, thrusting into one fist while the other’s stuffed in his mouth to muffle his grunts.
There’s no satisfaction in it when Arthur finally comes, just a release of tension in his groin and a heavy hollow feeling settling in his gut after.
Tomorrow Merlin will roll his eyes when Arthur barks orders at him, and Morgana won’t talk to him, and Gwen will say yes, sire, and walk away from him like any other servant. And images of them all twined together will rise unbidden in Arthur’s mind, and he’ll be curt with them to cover his shame. And come evening he’ll be here again, alone with his hand and his unwanted thoughts.
This is not how it was supposed to go.