Fic: Just a Graze (Gwaine/Merlin NC-17)
Just a Graze
“Let me see,” Gwaine said, pushing Merlin face-down on the cot, a hand between his shoulder-blades to hold him there as Merlin struggled to turn over. “Merlin! I can’t help if you won’t-”
“It’s fine,” Merlin insisted, his fingers slippery with blood as he found the tear in his trousers and pressed his hand over the cut high up on the back of his thigh. He pushed harder and winced, the sting like fire from hip to toes. “The price of clumsiness and distraction.”
It did hurt a bit more than slicing his finger in Gaius’ workshop the week before, but Merlin had had worse.
“Distraction kills - it’s either the first or the last thing a fighter learns.” Gwaine pried Merlin’s fingers away and gently peeled back the edges of the tear in his trousers with a sympathetic hiss. He peered closely at it, Merlin’s cheeks heating as he realized how close Gwaine’s face was to his body.
“I’m not a fighter,” Merlin grumbled, thigh jerking as Gwaine reached to the small table of medical supplies and pushed a square of clean linen hard against his wound. “Thanks, I’ll just go see Gaius,” he said, taking the cloth from Gwaine and pushing up off the cot.
Gwaine’s strong hand closed on his shoulder. “I’ll bandage it before you go. You’ll faint on the stairs if we don’t at least get the bleeding slowed.”
Merlin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He’d ached for this, for Gwaine’s hands on him, for the man to finally catch on to Merlin’s pathetic attempts at flirtation and see. But Gwaine was only trying to help a wounded friend, not seduce him, despite the suggestive location of the wound.
“On second thought, maybe I can heal it myself. No one will notice it’s gone if I wrap it after and Arthur needs you out there,” Merlin said, pushing against Gwaine’s insistent hold on him, trying to get up again. “The new recruits are ridiculously green.”
“Arthur can handle them.” Gwaine’s hand squeezed his shoulder, the other still warm and firm over his cut, pressing the linen to his skin. “There’s no way you can see it well enough to heal it if it’s covered in blood like this. Lie down and hold still.”
Merlin shook his head but lowered his chin to his hands. It was strange having friends who knew about his magic there in Camelot. Strange but amazing, though he was still a bit shy about talking to Gwaine about it, or about anything, ever since he’d realized how sincerely he wished that he could share more than his magic and friendship with the man.
His arse and thighs tensed as he felt the cloth lift away and Gwaine’s fingertips tugging at the tear, ripping it further, the sound splitting the silence in the tent.
“Hey!” he protested, looking back over his shoulder at the trousers he would now be spending half the day Sunday mending. “Don’t! It’s bad enough I’ll have to sew what’s already torn!”
Gwaine raised an eyebrow and grinned. “All right then,” he said, holding his hands in the air. “Take them off.”
Merlin’s heart thudded in his chest at the thought of stripping down in front of Gwaine. It wasn’t as though they hadn’t shared a tent before, but he’d dressed beneath the covers because of the cold. And it wasn’t cold anymore - it was summer, humid and sticky, even in the shade of the large tent.
So hot, in fact, that he’d foregone smalls that day, not, of course, thinking he’d have any reason to regret the decision.
“Anyone could walk in!” he exclaimed, huffing as Gwaine crossed his arms smirked down at him.
“I’ll tie the door,” he said, moving to do it. “Strip off before you bleed to death.”
“Of for-” Merlin rolled his eyes and, not wanting to be obvious in his shame, rolled up onto his side. “It’s not that bad,” he said, jerking the laces of his breeches open, shoving the waistband down quickly, first one side, then the other, wincing as he wriggled and pushed the fabric over the wound without thinking. He hissed and froze, the pain flashing down his thigh making him tense, which just made it worse.
Gwaine was instantly at his side, batting Merlin’s hands away, fingers curling into the waistband of his breeches and brushing along his arse and hips.
“Lift up,” he instructed, easing the breeches over the cut and down to the backs of Merlin’s knees, Merlin lying hastily back down as the fabric slipped down over his half-hard cock and bare bottom.
“Sorry. It’s just too hot for…” he said nervously, flushing and ducking his head down. He cringed as he thought of what he must look like laid out on his stomach, cock pressing deliciously into the soft mattress beneath his stomach and thighs, arse exposed to Gwaine’s view and touch.
“Arthur’s lucky we didn’t all show up naked, hot as it is. I promise I won’t look,” Gwaine said, sucking in a breath as he inspected the wound closely. “It’s wide open. You might need Gaius after all. Let me clean it up and you can take a look,” he offered, going to the cabinet and retrieving a bowl, more cloth and the silver pitcher of clean water Merlin had brought out himself hours earlier.
“Arthur won’t thank you for using his water to clean up my blood,” he said, desperate to think of anything but Gwaine’s hands on him, cleaning him.
“He’ll not thank you for missing and spelling your leg in half, either,” Gwaine said, pouring the water into the dish and dipping the rag, then ringing it out. He laid the damp cloth casually over Merlin’s uninjured leg and Merlin shifted uncomfortably.
Gods, this was going to be impossible if he couldn’t manage to get through even that much without boring a hole into the mattress with his cock.
Merlin clenched his teeth and looked back over his shoulder again, flushing hotter. Gwaine smiled softly at him and tugged the hem of Merlin’s tunic down, covering as much of his rear as possible, though Merlin still felt embarrassingly exposed, lying on the low cot, Gwaine kneeling on the ground beside him, paying careful attention to that particular part of his anatomy.
As Merlin watched with apprehension, Gwaine carefully folded a square of try linen and pressed it to the cut, which was only oozing now. It burned like hellfire, but Merlin felt no pain a moment later. He ducked his head and tensed his shoulders, fingers clenching on the pillow to hold onto control.
Gwaine’s fingertips smoothed over the crease at the top of Merlin’s leg, then slipped down between Merlin’s thighs and cupped the wounded leg in his strong hand. Merlin drew in a deep breath and exhaled as slowly as he could as the cool, wet cloth brushed back and forth over the wound, a sensory overload of irritation and gentleness as it passed over the cut and all the way up to the round of his arse, up and down the inside of his thighs, up from the back of his knee and down the outside of his thigh, swiping up the mess the blood had left.
His wound certainly wasn’t what he normally pictured as their motivation for being in such a position. Then again, it’s not like any of the reasons his brain usually supplied while he was wanking were all that plausible either, but still. He was hurt, he was bleeding. He shouldn’t be shaking with the effort not to grind down against the bedclothes.
“Can you see it now?” Gwaine asked, yanking him out of his distraction.
The wound stung fiercely, yes, but it wasn’t too bad. It looked clean, his skin popped apart but a neat slice, but with it so high on his leg, there was no way he could be sure he was getting it right. “The angle is going to be difficult. If I was better at it, I could do it by feel, but I’m not,” he said doubtfully. Not wanting Gwaine to think him an idiot, he added, “I’ve been practicing.”
“You have?” Gwaine asked incredulously. “On who, Gaius? I can’t believe the old man would let you-”
“Palace chickens. Dead ones, all right?” Merlin grudgingly admitted, his lip quirking up at Gwaine’s quiet laughter despite his embarrassment. “Listen, if you hold it closed for me, I might have a fighting chance.”
With a nod, Gwaine lined his thumbs up along the edges of the gaping cut, fingers moving to grip the flesh above and below it, the edge of his smallest finger touching Merlin’s bare bottom, sending a shiver up his spine.
Merlin inhaled sharply as Gwaine slowly, gently pushed the two sides of the cut together, the pain reminding him again why Gwaine was touching him.
“All right, it’s even,” Gwaine told him, his breath ghosting over Merlin’s damp thighs.
“Henroath, frentargun,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder at the cut as best he could, careful to concentrate on binding and mending, trusting Gwaine to literally hold him together. It was over in a heartbeat, his vision flashing golden as he pulled the magic to him and sent it out to his flesh.
Gwaine released his hold very, very slowly, his hand resting at the very top of Merlin’s thigh, the other sliding down to the back of his knee as he whistled low, obviously impressed. “It looks perfect. How does it feel?”
Before Merlin could so much as flex his leg to test it, Gwaine’s thumb brushed over the thin, pink line where the cut had been, pressing just a little.
Merlin nodded, clearing his throat as he struggled for words. “Much better. Thanks,” he croaked out, voice a riot of obvious nervousness.
Gwaine caught his eyes and held them, narrowing his own. “You’re hiding something.”
Yes, a raging hard-on. Merlin’s face fairly burned as it flushed deeper, the heat spreading down to the collar of his tunic. Sweat broke out on his temples and the back of his knee where Gwaine’s hand still rested. He shook his head, swallowing hard and turning to press his forehead to the pillow. “No. I’m fine, honest,” he murmured, groaning in frustration when Gwaine moved to sit on the edge of the cot, leaning across Merlin’s body, the edge of his belt pressing against Merlin’s bare bottom.
His hair brushed along Merlin’s shoulder as he leaned in far too close for comfort. “Merlin, I can tell something’s wrong,” he whispered gently, fingers curling over his bicep and tugging, urging him to look up. “What is it?”
“I’m just embarrassed, okay?” he blurted, clutching the pillow to his face, wishing Gwaine would just go and leave him to pull himself together.
Gwaine sat in silence over him for a torturous moment, the hand on the back of his knee sliding up and up, over his new scar, thumb dipping between his thighs, palm warm and cupping his arse as it made its way up under the edge of his tunic. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Gwaine said against his ear, soft, scratching beard like a thousand pinpricks against his neck.
He gasped and let out a ragged breath as Gwaine lifted the hem of his tunic up, pushing it high up his back, hands spreading in a wide, firm rub all the way down his tense muscles, down over his arse and thighs, curling into this breeches and dragging them the rest of the way off his legs.
Merlin pushed up on his elbows, unable to believe Gwaine would do it, would strip him in Arthur’s tent on the practice field. He held his breath and listened as he glanced over his shoulder. The sound of weapons clinking and scraping together was far off now, the low thunk of blades against the wooden pells telling him the knight trainees were being put through the ringer on the other side of the paddock, far out of earshot of anything happening inside the prince’s tent.
Gwaine’s heavily-lidded eyes caught his gaze, full of heat and purpose. His touch returned, firmer and faster, parting Merlin’s legs a bit further as the hands made their way back up his thighs, pausing just beneath his arse.
“Gwaine,” he breathed, biting his lip nervously. “I don’t know-” he couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit that everything he’d ever known about sex and passion he’d learned by listening to men boasting in bars, Gwaine included.
“Shh, it’s all right,” he whispered, leaning over him again, taking Merlin’s face in his hands. “May I?” he asked, urging Merlin onto his side when he nodded, his erection pressing fantastically against Gwaine’s hip.
Merlin swallowed hard, wrapping his arms around Gwaine’s neck, one hand slipping up into his soft, messy hair. “Please,” he whispered, bravely lifting his face. He wanted this, needed Gwaine’s mouth on his like he needed to breathe.
There was no hesitation, no gentle, slow, closed-mouth kiss to ease him into anything. Gwaine’s tongue swiped across his lips and pressed between and Merlin opened to him like he’d been starving for it and Gods, he had, he’d been dreaming about this kiss from day one.
He moaned into Gwaine’s mouth, unable to hold back as the noise turned needy and he whimpered, shivered, Gwaine’s fingers digging roughly into his hip as he climbed up on the cot. Merlin quickly shifted onto his back, pulling Gwaine on top of him. He bent his knees on either side of Gwaine’s hips, the fabric of his trousers rubbing teasingly on the insides of Merlin's thighs, hips rocking up and up as Gwaine ground slowly down against his aching cock.
He could feel the hard length of Gwaine's cock straining inside his trousers, the soft leather laces digging in, criss-crossed and rubbing up and down over Merlin’s sensitive prick, taunting him with the slightest promise of pain and pleasure.
Pushing at Gwaine’s shoulders, Merlin held his gaze, straining up for a quick kiss as he reached between them and pulled at the knot at his waistband. “I want to feel… can I?”
Gwaine nodded, inhaling shakily as he held himself up over Merlin. “Touch me,” he whispered, arching as Merlin held his breath and took Gwaine in hand. “Yes, Merlin-”
Reveling in Gwaine's reaction, Merlin moaned along with him, rushing to push the trousers down his slim hips, circling his hands around to close on Gwaine's arse and draw him down hard. Their cocks slipped side by side between their flexing stomachs as Gwaine grinned into their kiss, his obvious, easy pleasure lifting Merlin’s nervousness away like a curtain.
They pressed together, cocks rubbing fast and hard, bodies straining and working for it, arching and pushing, hips grinding for more and more sensation. Gwaine’s muscles tensed and flexed under Merlin’s rubbing, clutching hands. Brushing down Merlin’s side, Gwaine's thumb pressing teasingly against his hipbone. His hand slid down beneath Merlin to close in a tight squeeze on his bottom, lifting him, guiding him as they thrust against each other, their tongues twining and moans blending between them.
When the dizzy rush of orgasm came, Merlin squeezed his eyes tight and arched, shaking in mindless pleasure as Gwaine thrust roughly against him, cock slipping against his skin as Merlin pulsed harder than ever before over his belly and chest. Gwaine raised up, one hand pressing into the cot at his hip, the other trailing up through Merlin’s slickness and up, fingers slipping between Merlin’s lips. The salt-tang flavor danced on his tongue as he licked and sucked, groaning along with Gwaine as the man thrust hard through the slippery, wet heat, spilling and smearing his own release over Merlin’s cock and belly.
Fingers dragging from Merlin’s lips, Gwaine took his mouth again, their kiss slow and gentle as they caught their breath. Gwaine slowly pulled away, pressing their foreheads together, kissing him gently over and over again. “I’ve been waiting ages to do that.”
Merlin nodded his agreement, smiling softly, eyes closing as he savoured the glowing peaceful feeling spreading lassitude through his limbs. “Me, too.”
“Why didn’t you say?” Gwaine asked, brushing Merlin’s sweat-damp fringe from his eyes.
Merlin grinned up at him, shrugged as best he could in Gwaine’s embrace. “Didn’t know it would be like that, did I?”
They laughed softly, Merlin biting his lip as he heard Arthur calling the knights to attention somewhere outside their little sanctuary.
“Sounds like they’re finishing for the day,” Gwaine said, reflecting Merlin’s thoughts. “Come on,” he said, sighing as he pushed up off Merlin and the cot, offering Merlin a hand up.
Would this it be it, then? A one-off between friends? Merlin’s heart felt like lead in his chest, heavy and cold as it thudded with sudden grief.
Holding his tunic up out of the slick mess on his skin, Merlin reached for the cloth Gwaine pressed against his stomach, but Gwaine shook his head. “Let me,” he whispered, leaning in for another kiss. He swept the cloth over Merlin’s chest and low across his stomach, circling his cock in damp coolness, wiping him clean. He did the same on his own body, then rinsed the linen out and poured the water to the grass.
“Shall I find you after supper?” Gwaine asked with a smile, handing Merlin his breeches and lacing up his own as Merlin dressed a bit unsteadily. “Or was this…”
“No!” Merlin blurted, face heating as he fumbled his laces, tugging his tunic down to hide the slit in his breeches. He took a deep breath and smiled softly up at Gwaine. “I mean, yes, please, come find me. I’d like that.”
“See you tonight, then.” Gwaine’s hand on the back of his neck was all the reassurance he needed, but the soft kiss on his lips left him with no doubt.
As they stepped from the tent into the bright afternoon, Merlin barely remembered to stifle his grin.
“Did Gwaine take care of your little scrape?” Arthur teased, bumping his shoulder into Merlin’s on the way up to the castle, for once wearing his hauberk instead of making Merlin carry it. It didn’t hurt, but Merlin stumbled a bit, still not quite steady on his feet.
He nodded and grinned, sure he could get used to being wounded if this was the kind of treatment it earned him.
~ finis
Pairing: Gwaine/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3,000 words
Warnings/Spoilers: Season 3-ish. nothing specific
For: marguerite_26 who requested Gwaine/Merlin, medical attention leading to turn-on
Still practicing my smut for my BB and Springes, so feedback is not only appreciated but very useful as well.