Fic: When you need a Dragonlord
Hopefully I've fixed the dreadful newbie errors this time. Construtive criticism welcome.
Title: When you need a Dragonlord [1/4]
Author: Camelittle
Rating: This chapter NC-17, other chapters variable PG-13 upwards
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Warnings/Spoilers: Set somewhere in Season 5 - som plot assumptions relate subtly to Season 5
Summary: Arthur has banished Merlin for saving his life with magic, and is missing him more than he cares to admit. Meanwhile a dragon is ravaging Camelot.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to themselves, their characters to the BBC, I'm just doing this for fun.
Authors notes: Fandom, fandom, where have you been all my life? Please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy this fic; I have a couple more chapters to come.
Chapter 1: When you miss your manservant a little bit too much
Warning: NC-17. If you're under 18, skip this fic.
Waking, dreamlike, Arthur could almost believe that things were all right again, but as he raised one bleak eyelid and focused on the face of the nervous manservant who had brought his breakfast, and who clearly was NOT Merlin, the chill returned. Arthur rolled out of bed and glared bleakly at the servant but couldn't bring himself to speak. What was the point? With Gwen gone as well, there was no-one he could really talk to any more.
Of course, he had not had any choice about banishing Merlin once that pathetic excuse for a sorcerer had performed magic in front of the entire court. Arthur had been secretly impressed when Merlin, glacial eyes flashing gold, struck down the would-be assassin with a single deep-spoken word. In fact (if we're going to admit secret feelings), when Arthur heard Merlin speak with such power and authority, that commanding voice knifed shockingly into his guts, his blood surged to his groin in a sudden erection, and the memory of its charisma now made him feel confusingly weak-kneed and aroused, which did not improve his temper.
There could be no place for magic at Camelot as Merlin himself had admitted not so long ago. And so the King had swallowed his treacherous secret feelings and had banished his friend, and now a hollow feeling clawed and sucked at his empty, aching heart.
By day he could almost bring himself to forget Merlin's absence, as he was caught up in the maelstrom of court politics and diplomacy, although his temper was disgusting and his voice was rarely heard at anything less than a bellow. But by night he brooded and lay restless, wakeful and alert for the footfall that never came. His knights tolerated his difficult mood, thinking he was missing Gwen. But truth be told he had hardly noticed her absence. It was Merlin's wide smile he saw before him as he drifted towards sleep, Merlin's reproachful glare that chided him awake, the perfect blue of Merlin's eyes that flashed before him as he comforted himself with his hand under the covers, rubbing himself frantically to a sticky climax, the memory of Merlin's voice of power whispering in his ears. Merlin's absence punctuated every breath. Gods! Had that ridiculous warlock placed a spell on him? The King groaned his frustration as he ground his needy, fist-encircled crotch into his bedclothes, tight buttocks tensing and relaxing, hips spasming in the dark, tears damp on his pillow, and wished he could roar for Merlin simply so that he could throw his soiled bedclothes at Merlin's disgustingly perfect face.
And in the still dark of night there was nothing to stop the growing realisation that he owed this man everything; his life, his kingdom, his wife, his dragon-forged sword, his self belief, his clean laundry damnit. Without Merlin, Arthur now knew, he would be nothing but a dead, royal brat wearing dirty clothes and battered armour. Merlin had hinted at personal sacrifices he'd made along the way but Arthur hadn't listened, hadn't bothered to find out anything about Merlin's life. He had rewarded such extraordinary loyalty and courage with angry words, rejection and exile, and the shame he felt at his own betrayal haunted Arthur's every moment.
But now he had to rise and face the day. Truth be told, he was grateful to have a focus other than his grief and confusion. A white dragon, probably the one that had lately been seen with Morgana, had been terrorising Camelot. The townsfolk had all but fled, and he had sent Gwen away for her own safety. The council would meet at dawn to debate how to get rid of the dragon and bring back the townsfolk.
Although that bunch of wooden-headed idiots at court didn't seem to have any ideas about how to get rid of an indestructible magical creature.
Title: When you need a Dragonlord [1/4]
Author: Camelittle
Rating: This chapter NC-17, other chapters variable PG-13 upwards
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Warnings/Spoilers: Set somewhere in Season 5 - som plot assumptions relate subtly to Season 5
Summary: Arthur has banished Merlin for saving his life with magic, and is missing him more than he cares to admit. Meanwhile a dragon is ravaging Camelot.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to themselves, their characters to the BBC, I'm just doing this for fun.
Authors notes: Fandom, fandom, where have you been all my life? Please let me know what you think, I hope you enjoy this fic; I have a couple more chapters to come.
Chapter 1: When you miss your manservant a little bit too much
Warning: NC-17. If you're under 18, skip this fic.
Waking, dreamlike, Arthur could almost believe that things were all right again, but as he raised one bleak eyelid and focused on the face of the nervous manservant who had brought his breakfast, and who clearly was NOT Merlin, the chill returned. Arthur rolled out of bed and glared bleakly at the servant but couldn't bring himself to speak. What was the point? With Gwen gone as well, there was no-one he could really talk to any more.
Of course, he had not had any choice about banishing Merlin once that pathetic excuse for a sorcerer had performed magic in front of the entire court. Arthur had been secretly impressed when Merlin, glacial eyes flashing gold, struck down the would-be assassin with a single deep-spoken word. In fact (if we're going to admit secret feelings), when Arthur heard Merlin speak with such power and authority, that commanding voice knifed shockingly into his guts, his blood surged to his groin in a sudden erection, and the memory of its charisma now made him feel confusingly weak-kneed and aroused, which did not improve his temper.
There could be no place for magic at Camelot as Merlin himself had admitted not so long ago. And so the King had swallowed his treacherous secret feelings and had banished his friend, and now a hollow feeling clawed and sucked at his empty, aching heart.
By day he could almost bring himself to forget Merlin's absence, as he was caught up in the maelstrom of court politics and diplomacy, although his temper was disgusting and his voice was rarely heard at anything less than a bellow. But by night he brooded and lay restless, wakeful and alert for the footfall that never came. His knights tolerated his difficult mood, thinking he was missing Gwen. But truth be told he had hardly noticed her absence. It was Merlin's wide smile he saw before him as he drifted towards sleep, Merlin's reproachful glare that chided him awake, the perfect blue of Merlin's eyes that flashed before him as he comforted himself with his hand under the covers, rubbing himself frantically to a sticky climax, the memory of Merlin's voice of power whispering in his ears. Merlin's absence punctuated every breath. Gods! Had that ridiculous warlock placed a spell on him? The King groaned his frustration as he ground his needy, fist-encircled crotch into his bedclothes, tight buttocks tensing and relaxing, hips spasming in the dark, tears damp on his pillow, and wished he could roar for Merlin simply so that he could throw his soiled bedclothes at Merlin's disgustingly perfect face.
And in the still dark of night there was nothing to stop the growing realisation that he owed this man everything; his life, his kingdom, his wife, his dragon-forged sword, his self belief, his clean laundry damnit. Without Merlin, Arthur now knew, he would be nothing but a dead, royal brat wearing dirty clothes and battered armour. Merlin had hinted at personal sacrifices he'd made along the way but Arthur hadn't listened, hadn't bothered to find out anything about Merlin's life. He had rewarded such extraordinary loyalty and courage with angry words, rejection and exile, and the shame he felt at his own betrayal haunted Arthur's every moment.
But now he had to rise and face the day. Truth be told, he was grateful to have a focus other than his grief and confusion. A white dragon, probably the one that had lately been seen with Morgana, had been terrorising Camelot. The townsfolk had all but fled, and he had sent Gwen away for her own safety. The council would meet at dawn to debate how to get rid of the dragon and bring back the townsfolk.
Although that bunch of wooden-headed idiots at court didn't seem to have any ideas about how to get rid of an indestructible magical creature.