i cannot leave you untouched
(BBC MERLIN) MERLIN/ARTHUR
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, vague Merlin/Uther (gasp)
Fandom: Merlin
Warnings: slash,
Disclaimer: Yeah, no. I own nothing.
A/N: I could probably live in the meme now. For the Kinkme_merlin prompt: Arthur/Merlin Merlin/Uther
you know the scene in the beginning of TheMummy where the pharaohs mistress is all painted up so he could tell if someone touched her? I want merlin to be the mistress,and arthur who he is having an affair with? not a crossover but an au. you could do a crossover if you want i just want merlin to be painted up.
During the day, Arthur felt like the worst kind of traitor. He promised himself to keep away and even believed it when the light of day threw into sharp relief his betrayal. But the night had a way of seducing him, memories of dark shadows and painted lines on pale, smooth skin.
He stood next to his father, helped in solving matters of the kingdom, and averted his gaze from the other figure lying in front of Uther's throne.
Merlin sat obediently by the king's feet, black kohl around his eyes and the loose shirt he wore revealed hints of inky symmetry around his collarbones. Morgana bent to whisper something into Merlin's ear, a trail of mocking laughter as she pulled away, and colour stained Merlin's cheeks, his lips curling a little wryly.
Uther let his hand linger on Merlin's head, stroking absentmindedly, and Arthur pretended not to notice the action. He hid his fists behind his back, stance rigid, and tried not to dwell on his unrelenting, treasonous thoughts - tear his father's hand away until the little bones would break from the pressure; drag the boy up and towards him, never letting go; take him and take him until not even the ghost of his father's touch would remain on Merlin - that made him even more determined to do the right thing.
Merlin was Uther's little pet, untouchable and unknowable even to the prince.
-
In the middle of the day, they came upon each other. Merlin smiled at him, all bright and careless, and Arthur wanted to return the kindness. Only he couldn't, could never show that he cared, and looked away.
-
Arthur trained his knights well and was the best out of all of them. He had to be, to protect Camelot from all forms of danger. Years of rigorous training made him move freely, execute movements flawlessly and if against a real enemy, fatally. He was a perfectionist, wanted nothing but the best and more from his knights and from himself.
It was rare that he made mistakes, even rarer that his knights noticed. His lunges were too tense, his blocks half a second too late, his concentration failing with every shift of Merlin against the fence, watching as Arthur clashed with knight after knight.
His breathing grew quicker, heart pounding with more than exertion, and it required greater effort to knock Galahad to the ground.
"Everything all right, sire?" the other knight asked, winded. Arthur offered his hand and Galahad thankfully accepted his help, hauled to his feet swiftly.
Arthur tried his best not to look sideways. "Yes, of course. You're still a little weak on your left side. We will concentrate on that."
Galahad nodded and both men prepared themselves. Merlin stayed under the shade, observing with one fist cradling the side of his face.
-
Supper was always the same affair. Morgana and Merlin had their dark heads bent together, looking like siblings, and when Uther demanded attention, Merlin gave it to him with a brilliant grin. Arthur surrounded himself with his knights, laughing at their bawdy tales and appreciating which beauty caught their attention.
Arthur tried not to think of what might happen beyond the night.
-
For a moment, Arthur managed to keep himself in his chambers. He kept busy with a random chambermaid, someone pretty and indistinct, burying his nose in her slender neck. He was aroused but there was something missing; an edge of desperation that came with bright eyes surrounded by shadows.
After a less than satisfying tumble, Arthur sent the girl away and stared broodingly into the fire. Something was flickering in his belly, a need that didn't want to be denied, and Arthur felt himself becoming helpless in the face of temptation. He left his chambers and quietly made his way to the room a few doors from his. It was so near, so insultingly easy to slip inside unnoticed - knew that nobody else would be there this late, with his father aging - and Arthur vaguely thought that if Merlin was his, he would make sure it would be impossible for anyone else to get to him.
The fire was nearly out and a cold breeze wafted inside the room. Merlin sat up when he noticed Arthur and it was ridiculous how the moonlight streamed through the window and draped itself on his lean form as if to entice Arthur further.
Merlin regarded him silently, a whisper of a smile on his lips. "You came," he said with laughter in his voice. "You swore it would be the last time the other night and the night before that, and even before that."
"Shut up," Arthur all but snapped in his desire and shame. "Take off your clothes."
Merlin gave him another look but did as he was told, easily removing the shift and wriggling out of his trousers. He knelt naked on the bed, pale light on his pale skin, picking out sharply the lines and symbols etched on his body. They were random images, smooth strokes from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. Circles around his navel. Sharp lines on his thighs that Arthur wanted to run his tongue over - had licked before.
The ink was special, non-poisonous but resistant to sweat. It was a complicated mark that spoke of Merlin's master, his owner. One who wasn't Arthur.
Arthur swallowed thickly as he drew nearer, put one knee on the bed and another, immediately reaching out to put both hands flat on Merlin's shoulders. He cupped the knobby ends, sliding his palms down and smearing the ink messily. His breath came in short pants and he licked his dry lips, bent down to smudge the ink on Merlin's collarbones.
Merlin's head lolled back, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he arched into Arthur's touch. Arthur breathed in the scent of him, clean and soapy, hinting that he had just washed. Jealousy flared in his gut, thinking of the reason why he had to bathe, and Arthur longed, wanted so fucking much to close his mouth over one clavicle and bite down hard, to leave a mark that was his. But he couldn't, even touching Merlin like this was treason enough, so he kissed his way up, following the path of black lines, and kissed him. Arthur made it dirty, so filthy that Merlin would remember the suck and pull of their mouths, the tangle of their lips; a mark all on its own.
Merlin moaned underneath him, pushed back on the bed, arms encircled around Arthur's neck. They rubbed against each other, cocks slickened by their need, and Arthur growled. His hand fell on one bony hip and tightened around it, grinding headily until that simple dirty act brought him more pleasure than anything.
"Please," Merlin pleaded with his red mouth. "Please fuck me."
Arthur groaned in agreement, eagerly turning the boy to his stomach. Merlin whispered something and Arthur fingers against his hole came away wet - another secret Arthur kept, another act of betrayal on Camelot and his father - and he pushed one inside. It was hot and tight, hotter and tighter than he expected, and Arthur rubbed himself on the back of Merlin's thigh in breathless anticipation. He added another finger, impatiently criss-crossing them, and then another. Merlin pushed back on his digits, trying to keep quiet, little grunts and whimpers muffled on his lips.
There were drawings on his back too. Arthur stared at them as he pulled out his fingers and grabbed Merlin's hips, aligned their hips and slowly sank inside. He closed his eyes, jaw slack, and let the heat engulf him. He bit his tongue to stave the curses he wanted to say, the promises he wanted to offer. Merlin gave the softest mewl and twisted his hips, making Arthur gasp and thrust. He set up a slow rhythm, torturous and so fucking good, drawing out the sensation that ran up and down his body unchecked.
He leant forward and dragged his tongue on Merlin's back, leaving wet trails that distorted the lines and whorls. He gripped Merlin's sweaty hair, pulled his head back and to the side, revealing one eye smudged with eyeliner, and it made him look ravished, fucked, and fucking beautiful that Arthur was helpless not to kiss him even at the awkward angle.
Their tongues met and tangled wetly, more of a messy meeting of mouths than a kiss, as they moved together. Their actions grew more frenzied, the heat building between them, slick, messy, so, so good that Arthur's orgasm came as a blinding surprise, making him bite down on Merlin's lower lip and tasting iron.
Clarity came back to the feel of Merlin fucking himself on Arthur's softening cock, tightening around Arthur to the point of over-stimulation. Merlin moaned quietly as he tugged on his erection, eyes tightly closed, face red. Arthur dazedly nuzzled at his damp neck, feeling satisfaction so fierce that the lines, his father's mark, was all but smeared ink. He hummed and smiled into Merlin's skin and Merlin suddenly grew as tight as a bow string, head thrown back and mouth open as he spilled all over his fingers. They fell on the bed, gasping for breath, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to fall asleep next to Merlin. See his father's reaction when he'll find them in bed together, tangled and soiled, Arthur licking away the last traces of ink on Merlin's skin.
But that wasn't possible. It was too dangerous, not only for Arthur, but for Merlin as well. He would never put Merlin in even more danger.
Once he caught his breath, Arthur pushed away and Merlin didn't try stopping him. His eyes, blue and so lovely, surrounded by dark stains, were resigned.
Arthur left the bed and put on his clothes. They didn't say anything to each other. He started for the door, stopped, and looked over his shoulder. Merlin gave him a sad little smile before his eyes glowed. A blink later and the markings were back on his skin, perfect and undisturbed. Arthur's throat tightened and he forced himself to unclench his fingers one by one and leave the room, hollowly promising never to return like he always did.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, vague Merlin/Uther (gasp)
Fandom: Merlin
Warnings: slash,
Disclaimer: Yeah, no. I own nothing.
A/N: I could probably live in the meme now. For the Kinkme_merlin prompt: Arthur/Merlin Merlin/Uther
you know the scene in the beginning of TheMummy where the pharaohs mistress is all painted up so he could tell if someone touched her? I want merlin to be the mistress,and arthur who he is having an affair with? not a crossover but an au. you could do a crossover if you want i just want merlin to be painted up.
During the day, Arthur felt like the worst kind of traitor. He promised himself to keep away and even believed it when the light of day threw into sharp relief his betrayal. But the night had a way of seducing him, memories of dark shadows and painted lines on pale, smooth skin.
He stood next to his father, helped in solving matters of the kingdom, and averted his gaze from the other figure lying in front of Uther's throne.
Merlin sat obediently by the king's feet, black kohl around his eyes and the loose shirt he wore revealed hints of inky symmetry around his collarbones. Morgana bent to whisper something into Merlin's ear, a trail of mocking laughter as she pulled away, and colour stained Merlin's cheeks, his lips curling a little wryly.
Uther let his hand linger on Merlin's head, stroking absentmindedly, and Arthur pretended not to notice the action. He hid his fists behind his back, stance rigid, and tried not to dwell on his unrelenting, treasonous thoughts - tear his father's hand away until the little bones would break from the pressure; drag the boy up and towards him, never letting go; take him and take him until not even the ghost of his father's touch would remain on Merlin - that made him even more determined to do the right thing.
Merlin was Uther's little pet, untouchable and unknowable even to the prince.
-
In the middle of the day, they came upon each other. Merlin smiled at him, all bright and careless, and Arthur wanted to return the kindness. Only he couldn't, could never show that he cared, and looked away.
-
Arthur trained his knights well and was the best out of all of them. He had to be, to protect Camelot from all forms of danger. Years of rigorous training made him move freely, execute movements flawlessly and if against a real enemy, fatally. He was a perfectionist, wanted nothing but the best and more from his knights and from himself.
It was rare that he made mistakes, even rarer that his knights noticed. His lunges were too tense, his blocks half a second too late, his concentration failing with every shift of Merlin against the fence, watching as Arthur clashed with knight after knight.
His breathing grew quicker, heart pounding with more than exertion, and it required greater effort to knock Galahad to the ground.
"Everything all right, sire?" the other knight asked, winded. Arthur offered his hand and Galahad thankfully accepted his help, hauled to his feet swiftly.
Arthur tried his best not to look sideways. "Yes, of course. You're still a little weak on your left side. We will concentrate on that."
Galahad nodded and both men prepared themselves. Merlin stayed under the shade, observing with one fist cradling the side of his face.
-
Supper was always the same affair. Morgana and Merlin had their dark heads bent together, looking like siblings, and when Uther demanded attention, Merlin gave it to him with a brilliant grin. Arthur surrounded himself with his knights, laughing at their bawdy tales and appreciating which beauty caught their attention.
Arthur tried not to think of what might happen beyond the night.
-
For a moment, Arthur managed to keep himself in his chambers. He kept busy with a random chambermaid, someone pretty and indistinct, burying his nose in her slender neck. He was aroused but there was something missing; an edge of desperation that came with bright eyes surrounded by shadows.
After a less than satisfying tumble, Arthur sent the girl away and stared broodingly into the fire. Something was flickering in his belly, a need that didn't want to be denied, and Arthur felt himself becoming helpless in the face of temptation. He left his chambers and quietly made his way to the room a few doors from his. It was so near, so insultingly easy to slip inside unnoticed - knew that nobody else would be there this late, with his father aging - and Arthur vaguely thought that if Merlin was his, he would make sure it would be impossible for anyone else to get to him.
The fire was nearly out and a cold breeze wafted inside the room. Merlin sat up when he noticed Arthur and it was ridiculous how the moonlight streamed through the window and draped itself on his lean form as if to entice Arthur further.
Merlin regarded him silently, a whisper of a smile on his lips. "You came," he said with laughter in his voice. "You swore it would be the last time the other night and the night before that, and even before that."
"Shut up," Arthur all but snapped in his desire and shame. "Take off your clothes."
Merlin gave him another look but did as he was told, easily removing the shift and wriggling out of his trousers. He knelt naked on the bed, pale light on his pale skin, picking out sharply the lines and symbols etched on his body. They were random images, smooth strokes from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. Circles around his navel. Sharp lines on his thighs that Arthur wanted to run his tongue over - had licked before.
The ink was special, non-poisonous but resistant to sweat. It was a complicated mark that spoke of Merlin's master, his owner. One who wasn't Arthur.
Arthur swallowed thickly as he drew nearer, put one knee on the bed and another, immediately reaching out to put both hands flat on Merlin's shoulders. He cupped the knobby ends, sliding his palms down and smearing the ink messily. His breath came in short pants and he licked his dry lips, bent down to smudge the ink on Merlin's collarbones.
Merlin's head lolled back, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as he arched into Arthur's touch. Arthur breathed in the scent of him, clean and soapy, hinting that he had just washed. Jealousy flared in his gut, thinking of the reason why he had to bathe, and Arthur longed, wanted so fucking much to close his mouth over one clavicle and bite down hard, to leave a mark that was his. But he couldn't, even touching Merlin like this was treason enough, so he kissed his way up, following the path of black lines, and kissed him. Arthur made it dirty, so filthy that Merlin would remember the suck and pull of their mouths, the tangle of their lips; a mark all on its own.
Merlin moaned underneath him, pushed back on the bed, arms encircled around Arthur's neck. They rubbed against each other, cocks slickened by their need, and Arthur growled. His hand fell on one bony hip and tightened around it, grinding headily until that simple dirty act brought him more pleasure than anything.
"Please," Merlin pleaded with his red mouth. "Please fuck me."
Arthur groaned in agreement, eagerly turning the boy to his stomach. Merlin whispered something and Arthur fingers against his hole came away wet - another secret Arthur kept, another act of betrayal on Camelot and his father - and he pushed one inside. It was hot and tight, hotter and tighter than he expected, and Arthur rubbed himself on the back of Merlin's thigh in breathless anticipation. He added another finger, impatiently criss-crossing them, and then another. Merlin pushed back on his digits, trying to keep quiet, little grunts and whimpers muffled on his lips.
There were drawings on his back too. Arthur stared at them as he pulled out his fingers and grabbed Merlin's hips, aligned their hips and slowly sank inside. He closed his eyes, jaw slack, and let the heat engulf him. He bit his tongue to stave the curses he wanted to say, the promises he wanted to offer. Merlin gave the softest mewl and twisted his hips, making Arthur gasp and thrust. He set up a slow rhythm, torturous and so fucking good, drawing out the sensation that ran up and down his body unchecked.
He leant forward and dragged his tongue on Merlin's back, leaving wet trails that distorted the lines and whorls. He gripped Merlin's sweaty hair, pulled his head back and to the side, revealing one eye smudged with eyeliner, and it made him look ravished, fucked, and fucking beautiful that Arthur was helpless not to kiss him even at the awkward angle.
Their tongues met and tangled wetly, more of a messy meeting of mouths than a kiss, as they moved together. Their actions grew more frenzied, the heat building between them, slick, messy, so, so good that Arthur's orgasm came as a blinding surprise, making him bite down on Merlin's lower lip and tasting iron.
Clarity came back to the feel of Merlin fucking himself on Arthur's softening cock, tightening around Arthur to the point of over-stimulation. Merlin moaned quietly as he tugged on his erection, eyes tightly closed, face red. Arthur dazedly nuzzled at his damp neck, feeling satisfaction so fierce that the lines, his father's mark, was all but smeared ink. He hummed and smiled into Merlin's skin and Merlin suddenly grew as tight as a bow string, head thrown back and mouth open as he spilled all over his fingers. They fell on the bed, gasping for breath, and Arthur wanted nothing more than to fall asleep next to Merlin. See his father's reaction when he'll find them in bed together, tangled and soiled, Arthur licking away the last traces of ink on Merlin's skin.
But that wasn't possible. It was too dangerous, not only for Arthur, but for Merlin as well. He would never put Merlin in even more danger.
Once he caught his breath, Arthur pushed away and Merlin didn't try stopping him. His eyes, blue and so lovely, surrounded by dark stains, were resigned.
Arthur left the bed and put on his clothes. They didn't say anything to each other. He started for the door, stopped, and looked over his shoulder. Merlin gave him a sad little smile before his eyes glowed. A blink later and the markings were back on his skin, perfect and undisturbed. Arthur's throat tightened and he forced himself to unclench his fingers one by one and leave the room, hollowly promising never to return like he always did.