fic: electric in the air
Title: electric in the air
Rating: NC-17
Genre(s): porn, romance
Word Count: ~1565
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Arthur/Merlin
Warnings / Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
Summary: From dislike to like, from friends to something more, from Just Another Person to My Everything. Written for wordsdiminish. I sincerely hope you feel better soon, my lovely, and I'm sorry this is so belated. Also written for ‘heat’ in my word table to be made STILL, given by sheswatching.
Merlin can’t describe it. The moment he had met Arthur, it had been there, simmering away underneath the jibes and banter and shoulder-knocks. They both know it, they can both feel it - it’s impossible to ignore.
“There’s something about you, Merlin,” Arthur had said, that first time outside the Student Union, when Merlin had demanded Arthur and his friends stop picking on a poor, terrified-looking boy. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Merlin hates Arthur at first, and the feeling is certainly mutual - until it’s not.
They find that they’re on the same course, so Merlin endures his first term at university fending off flicked pieces of scrunched up paper with stupid, goading messages during lectures. It’s irritating, but it doesn’t take long to grow accustomed to it; and then, much to Merlin’s horror, by December, it’s actually rather amusing. Endearing, even.
I’m playing for college tonight. Want to come watch me hand it to the opposition?
Which is how Merlin finds himself shivering in a huge winter coat on the stands of the football field in early December, watching Arthur, dressed in striped blue and white, run up and down with twenty fellow sportsmen. They look like utter buffoons. Merlin simply can’t understand their fondness of the game, but he also can’t deny that Arthur is rather good at it; he certainly knows how to find the back of the net.
Afterwards, Arthur jogs up to him, neglecting calls from his teammates for drinks, and beams at Merlin, who’s doing his best not to visibly shiver. “Coffee at mine?”
It’s the beginning of a friendship Merlin had never expected. They begin to do their work together, heads bent over huge tomes in the Library and whispering in hushed tones. Often, they have dinner either at Merlin’s or Arthur’s, with their friends joining them from time to time - Merlin’s dormmate Gwen and her friend Morgana (who turns out to be one of Arthur’s old classmates from high school), and Arthur’s fellow footballers, Lancelot and Leon. Merlin continues to attend Arthur’s matches, and Arthur accompanies Merlin on his weekly trips to the comic book store, with unsuppressed rolls of his eyes.
Throughout that time, it remains, sitting there, unspoken. Merlin can sense it - the heat. It’s in the weight of Arthur’s gaze, travelling along his neck up to his face, catching his eyes and looking away. It’s in every touch - from passing a hot mug to the other, to their shoulders brushing as they walk side by side. It’s in every space between them, short or far across the gulf, even when they’re not looking, or touching, or doing anything.
Eventually, something has to happen. And for Arthur and Merlin, it happens a week before the last term of their first year ends.
It’s the end of Arthur’s last football match of the year, and he’s in the changing room. Merlin’s watching him pull off his shirt, revealing smooth tanned skin and rippling muscles.
He swallows.
“I’m going to miss you, you know.”
Arthur looks up midway through stuffing the shirt into his bag. He looks surprised by the statement for a moment, and then he’s grinning wide, crooked teeth and all. Merlin’s heart bangs noisily against his ribcage.
“Really, Merlin? I never thought you’d be the sentimental type.”
Merlin tries to shrug casually. “I’ve gotten used to your prattish ways.”
Arthur laughs, and begins to take off his shorts. Merlin’s eyes automatically stray south.
“Well, if we’re going to be like girls, I’m going to miss you too. I can’t imagine not having you around to remind me what an egoist I am.”
Merlin is too busy watching a single bead of sweat sloping down Arthur’s chest. It’s summer, swelteringly hot in the changing rooms with no air conditioning, but Merlin hadn’t felt warm until now, in his t-shirt and skinny jeans.
“Merlin?” Arthur looks up from putting his shorts away, and catches Merlin’s stare.
Both of them freeze.
Merlin blinks owlishly, mouth agape. He doesn’t know what to say, because suddenly, all words have fled his mind. Arthur doesn’t seem to be faring much better in the awkward silence, until he takes a step forwards, holding Merlin’s stare.
Merlin’s mind reminds him that Arthur is wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
“Merlin.” This time, Arthur’s voice is quiet, low, and there it is again - that heat, that something fizzling between them, electric in the air. Merlin can almost taste it as it throws goosebumps up his arms.
He swallows again.
“Arthur.” Merlin curses the shake in his voice. “I...”
Somehow, Merlin finds himself cornered against the lockers, cold against his t-shirt, and Arthur’s intense stare bearing down on him.
“What, Merlin?” Arthur murmurs. Their noses are so close, Merlin can feel Arthur’s breath along his cheek. It makes him shiver, and he knows Arthur can see it, rippling through his body.
“Arthur.”
“Merlin.”
“Arthur.”
“Merlin.”
“How long are we going to keep doing this?” Merlin snaps, but he’s smiling. “How long do you want to keep doing this?”
Arthur watches Merlin carefully. “I’m done waiting. All you have to do is say it.”
Merlin bites his lip. “Do you really need me to say it?”
Arthur’s brow furrows, but he leans forward then - slowly, hesitant - until their lips are an inch apart. Merlin can feel the warmth of Arthur’s body through his clothes.
“Are you sure?” Arthur suddenly whispers. “There’s no going back.”
Merlin wants to hit him. “I want this,” he says. “I want this.”
And then he leans forward, and kisses Arthur.
“Fuck, Merlin.”
“That’s the idea,” Merlin pants as Arthur smashes him into the other row of lockers. He groans at the impact of head to metal. “So hurry the hell up already.”
“Patience, dear,” Arthur murmurs, smirking as he thrusts his cock against Merlin’s, both hard and leaking. “We’ll get to the good stuff soon.”
“God, you’d better,” Merlin gasps as their sweat-slick chests rub together. Arthur bites at his collarbone and he bucks up harder. “I’ve been dreaming about this since Christmas.”
“You dirty boy.” Arthur’s fingernails scratch along Merlin’s arse, until they’re slipping between his cheeks. “Consider this a very late... or very early Christmas present then.”
“Fuck,” Merlin yells as Arthur slips a wet finger into him, nudging at the tight ring of muscle gently. “Motherfucking hell!”
Arthur grunts, and buries his nose into Merlin’s shoulder. “How long has it been?” he asks, ragged.
“Too long,” Merlin bites out, and hisses as Arthur begins to move.
“Yeah,” Arthur says into his skin, “you’re tight. Bloody hell.”
Merlin laughs hoarsely. “Yeah, tight for you, tight for your cock.”
“God,” Arthur groans, adding a second finger, and Merlin begins to shove back into his hand, slow. “Who knew you would have such a dirty mouth, Merlin.”
“You have no idea. Come on, Arthur, hurry up, I want you inside me.”
Arthur mutters something like so bossy, Merlin, Christ, and heaves Merlin’s legs up, so they wrap around his waist. He takes his three fingers out and carefully, in the difficult position they’re in, Merlin’s bare back pressed into the lockers, guides his cock in.
Merlin’s head hits metal again. “Oh God,” he hisses. “Yes.”
“Merlin,” Arthur groans, broken, and they kiss again, sloppy with tongue, as he slides in so deep, his balls nudge along Merlin’s arse.
After a few shallow thrusts, Arthur takes Merlin’s, “Fuck me already,” as cue to rut Merlin into the lockers, whilst Merlin clings to his hair and shoulders and arms, and shouts filthy profanities into Arthur’s ear.
“God, you’re so good,” Arthur groans, nipping at Merlin’s ear between rough thrusts, and all Merlin can do is thrash wildly against him, begging for more. “Why did we ever wait, why-”
“Shut up,” Merlin orders harshly. “Don’t- don’t say that.” He moans as Arthur’s cock strokes something in him that has his closed eyes seeing bright lights. “Arthur, oh God, I’m close.”
Arthur grunts, and wraps a hand around Merlin’s cock, using the wetness to slick his palm as he begins to jerk Merlin off in time to each fuck of his hips. “Yes, yes,” Merlin moans, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and Arthur’s breathing grows ragged just watching him. “Arthur, Arthur.”
“Come on, Merlin, come for me.”
And Merlin does, white spurts emptied from his cock held tight in Arthur’s hand as he moans through his release. It’s the hottest thing Arthur’s ever seen, and it makes him fuck into Merlin harder, taking him so rough against the lockers that they not only shake, but rattle on their hinges. As Merlin rides his high, nails digging into Arthur’s shoulder, Arthur desperately seeks to follow him.
It doesn’t come, though, until Merlin, sagged against metal and looking utterly fucked-out, leans forward and whispers into Arthur’s ear.
“Go on, come in my arse, I want to feel your come inside me, filling me up, running down my thighs, all drenched and soaking-”
Before Merlin can finish, Arthur comes in him, warm and wet, and Merlin hums his pleasure.
“Merlin,” Arthur groans, and shakes apart around his lover, pressed beneath him.
“Shit,” Arthur says afterwards, struggling for breath on the floor. “Condom.”
Merlin kisses him quiet, the taste of come on their tongues.
“By the way,” Arthur adds quietly, stroking Merlin’s hair. “I love you, you idiot.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Rating: NC-17
Genre(s): porn, romance
Word Count: ~1565
Pairing(s) / Character(s): Arthur/Merlin
Warnings / Spoilers: None
Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin.
Summary: From dislike to like, from friends to something more, from Just Another Person to My Everything. Written for wordsdiminish. I sincerely hope you feel better soon, my lovely, and I'm sorry this is so belated. Also written for ‘heat’ in my word table to be made STILL, given by sheswatching.
Merlin can’t describe it. The moment he had met Arthur, it had been there, simmering away underneath the jibes and banter and shoulder-knocks. They both know it, they can both feel it - it’s impossible to ignore.
“There’s something about you, Merlin,” Arthur had said, that first time outside the Student Union, when Merlin had demanded Arthur and his friends stop picking on a poor, terrified-looking boy. “I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
Merlin hates Arthur at first, and the feeling is certainly mutual - until it’s not.
They find that they’re on the same course, so Merlin endures his first term at university fending off flicked pieces of scrunched up paper with stupid, goading messages during lectures. It’s irritating, but it doesn’t take long to grow accustomed to it; and then, much to Merlin’s horror, by December, it’s actually rather amusing. Endearing, even.
I’m playing for college tonight. Want to come watch me hand it to the opposition?
Which is how Merlin finds himself shivering in a huge winter coat on the stands of the football field in early December, watching Arthur, dressed in striped blue and white, run up and down with twenty fellow sportsmen. They look like utter buffoons. Merlin simply can’t understand their fondness of the game, but he also can’t deny that Arthur is rather good at it; he certainly knows how to find the back of the net.
Afterwards, Arthur jogs up to him, neglecting calls from his teammates for drinks, and beams at Merlin, who’s doing his best not to visibly shiver. “Coffee at mine?”
It’s the beginning of a friendship Merlin had never expected. They begin to do their work together, heads bent over huge tomes in the Library and whispering in hushed tones. Often, they have dinner either at Merlin’s or Arthur’s, with their friends joining them from time to time - Merlin’s dormmate Gwen and her friend Morgana (who turns out to be one of Arthur’s old classmates from high school), and Arthur’s fellow footballers, Lancelot and Leon. Merlin continues to attend Arthur’s matches, and Arthur accompanies Merlin on his weekly trips to the comic book store, with unsuppressed rolls of his eyes.
Throughout that time, it remains, sitting there, unspoken. Merlin can sense it - the heat. It’s in the weight of Arthur’s gaze, travelling along his neck up to his face, catching his eyes and looking away. It’s in every touch - from passing a hot mug to the other, to their shoulders brushing as they walk side by side. It’s in every space between them, short or far across the gulf, even when they’re not looking, or touching, or doing anything.
Eventually, something has to happen. And for Arthur and Merlin, it happens a week before the last term of their first year ends.
It’s the end of Arthur’s last football match of the year, and he’s in the changing room. Merlin’s watching him pull off his shirt, revealing smooth tanned skin and rippling muscles.
He swallows.
“I’m going to miss you, you know.”
Arthur looks up midway through stuffing the shirt into his bag. He looks surprised by the statement for a moment, and then he’s grinning wide, crooked teeth and all. Merlin’s heart bangs noisily against his ribcage.
“Really, Merlin? I never thought you’d be the sentimental type.”
Merlin tries to shrug casually. “I’ve gotten used to your prattish ways.”
Arthur laughs, and begins to take off his shorts. Merlin’s eyes automatically stray south.
“Well, if we’re going to be like girls, I’m going to miss you too. I can’t imagine not having you around to remind me what an egoist I am.”
Merlin is too busy watching a single bead of sweat sloping down Arthur’s chest. It’s summer, swelteringly hot in the changing rooms with no air conditioning, but Merlin hadn’t felt warm until now, in his t-shirt and skinny jeans.
“Merlin?” Arthur looks up from putting his shorts away, and catches Merlin’s stare.
Both of them freeze.
Merlin blinks owlishly, mouth agape. He doesn’t know what to say, because suddenly, all words have fled his mind. Arthur doesn’t seem to be faring much better in the awkward silence, until he takes a step forwards, holding Merlin’s stare.
Merlin’s mind reminds him that Arthur is wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.
“Merlin.” This time, Arthur’s voice is quiet, low, and there it is again - that heat, that something fizzling between them, electric in the air. Merlin can almost taste it as it throws goosebumps up his arms.
He swallows again.
“Arthur.” Merlin curses the shake in his voice. “I...”
Somehow, Merlin finds himself cornered against the lockers, cold against his t-shirt, and Arthur’s intense stare bearing down on him.
“What, Merlin?” Arthur murmurs. Their noses are so close, Merlin can feel Arthur’s breath along his cheek. It makes him shiver, and he knows Arthur can see it, rippling through his body.
“Arthur.”
“Merlin.”
“Arthur.”
“Merlin.”
“How long are we going to keep doing this?” Merlin snaps, but he’s smiling. “How long do you want to keep doing this?”
Arthur watches Merlin carefully. “I’m done waiting. All you have to do is say it.”
Merlin bites his lip. “Do you really need me to say it?”
Arthur’s brow furrows, but he leans forward then - slowly, hesitant - until their lips are an inch apart. Merlin can feel the warmth of Arthur’s body through his clothes.
“Are you sure?” Arthur suddenly whispers. “There’s no going back.”
Merlin wants to hit him. “I want this,” he says. “I want this.”
And then he leans forward, and kisses Arthur.
“Fuck, Merlin.”
“That’s the idea,” Merlin pants as Arthur smashes him into the other row of lockers. He groans at the impact of head to metal. “So hurry the hell up already.”
“Patience, dear,” Arthur murmurs, smirking as he thrusts his cock against Merlin’s, both hard and leaking. “We’ll get to the good stuff soon.”
“God, you’d better,” Merlin gasps as their sweat-slick chests rub together. Arthur bites at his collarbone and he bucks up harder. “I’ve been dreaming about this since Christmas.”
“You dirty boy.” Arthur’s fingernails scratch along Merlin’s arse, until they’re slipping between his cheeks. “Consider this a very late... or very early Christmas present then.”
“Fuck,” Merlin yells as Arthur slips a wet finger into him, nudging at the tight ring of muscle gently. “Motherfucking hell!”
Arthur grunts, and buries his nose into Merlin’s shoulder. “How long has it been?” he asks, ragged.
“Too long,” Merlin bites out, and hisses as Arthur begins to move.
“Yeah,” Arthur says into his skin, “you’re tight. Bloody hell.”
Merlin laughs hoarsely. “Yeah, tight for you, tight for your cock.”
“God,” Arthur groans, adding a second finger, and Merlin begins to shove back into his hand, slow. “Who knew you would have such a dirty mouth, Merlin.”
“You have no idea. Come on, Arthur, hurry up, I want you inside me.”
Arthur mutters something like so bossy, Merlin, Christ, and heaves Merlin’s legs up, so they wrap around his waist. He takes his three fingers out and carefully, in the difficult position they’re in, Merlin’s bare back pressed into the lockers, guides his cock in.
Merlin’s head hits metal again. “Oh God,” he hisses. “Yes.”
“Merlin,” Arthur groans, broken, and they kiss again, sloppy with tongue, as he slides in so deep, his balls nudge along Merlin’s arse.
After a few shallow thrusts, Arthur takes Merlin’s, “Fuck me already,” as cue to rut Merlin into the lockers, whilst Merlin clings to his hair and shoulders and arms, and shouts filthy profanities into Arthur’s ear.
“God, you’re so good,” Arthur groans, nipping at Merlin’s ear between rough thrusts, and all Merlin can do is thrash wildly against him, begging for more. “Why did we ever wait, why-”
“Shut up,” Merlin orders harshly. “Don’t- don’t say that.” He moans as Arthur’s cock strokes something in him that has his closed eyes seeing bright lights. “Arthur, oh God, I’m close.”
Arthur grunts, and wraps a hand around Merlin’s cock, using the wetness to slick his palm as he begins to jerk Merlin off in time to each fuck of his hips. “Yes, yes,” Merlin moans, eyes rolling into the back of his head, and Arthur’s breathing grows ragged just watching him. “Arthur, Arthur.”
“Come on, Merlin, come for me.”
And Merlin does, white spurts emptied from his cock held tight in Arthur’s hand as he moans through his release. It’s the hottest thing Arthur’s ever seen, and it makes him fuck into Merlin harder, taking him so rough against the lockers that they not only shake, but rattle on their hinges. As Merlin rides his high, nails digging into Arthur’s shoulder, Arthur desperately seeks to follow him.
It doesn’t come, though, until Merlin, sagged against metal and looking utterly fucked-out, leans forward and whispers into Arthur’s ear.
“Go on, come in my arse, I want to feel your come inside me, filling me up, running down my thighs, all drenched and soaking-”
Before Merlin can finish, Arthur comes in him, warm and wet, and Merlin hums his pleasure.
“Merlin,” Arthur groans, and shakes apart around his lover, pressed beneath him.
“Shit,” Arthur says afterwards, struggling for breath on the floor. “Condom.”
Merlin kisses him quiet, the taste of come on their tongues.
“By the way,” Arthur adds quietly, stroking Merlin’s hair. “I love you, you idiot.”
“Yeah. I know.”