Merlin/Arthur Kiss Meme 2!
♥ Merlin/Arthur Kiss Meme II ♥
This meme is all about Merlin/Arthur kisses! \o/ Lots and lots of kisses! Be they sweet and fluffy, hot and dirty, or just necking like teenagers, any kisses are welcome! The more the better!
The rules:
1. No porn (that's what the kink meme is for), just kisses ( Read more... )
This meme is all about Merlin/Arthur kisses! \o/ Lots and lots of kisses! Be they sweet and fluffy, hot and dirty, or just necking like teenagers, any kisses are welcome! The more the better!
The rules:
1. No porn (that's what the kink meme is for), just kisses ( Read more... )
There is a tree by a lake. The tree is gnarled and twisted with age, trunk bent and stooped like an old man, branches reaching towards the water's edge. The trees around it are young, their slim trunks stretching upwards as if trying to show the old tree how it's done. Their trunks are unmarred, but the old tree has a symbol carved into its thick bark, its meaning lost to history. Merlin remembers carving it, but even he no longer remembers the exact translation, the ancient memory pushed out by newer ones. But he remembers tracing over the lines each time he visits the tree, enough times that now the grooves are wide and deep enough to fit a man's hand inside, the edges polished smooth like the etchings of a weathered gravestone, even if the rune has been reduced to a meaningless squiggle.
Sometimes Merlin stares at it, runs his palm over the time-worn bark and wonders if some long-past traveler stumbled upon it, if this is the reason behind all those stories about getting himself trapped in a tree. He sinks his fingers deep into the carved wood and he can almost imagine it. Maybe that would make it all easier, the endless waiting. Time must pass differently for the old tree. It's stood here for centuries. It was already old when Merlin carved the symbol into its bark. It should be long dead, but it shows no signs of fading. Merlin knows it's been waiting, too.
The sky has started lighting with its pre-dawn haze. Merlin can feel the sun hovering fat and heavy just below the horizon, and he has to resist the urge to give it a little push. He's been this patient. He's waited here every day. He can wait a little longer.
Merlin doesn't even know if today will be the day. All he knows is the hope carved deep in his chest, that with each passing day, he is one day closer to seeing Arthur again. It has to happen someday. Merlin refuses to believe otherwise.
There is no wind, no sound. The surface of the lake is smooth like a polished looking-glass. It catches the reflected glare as the sun finally breaks over the horizon, the burst of light rippling the water like a tossed stone. Merlin fixes his eyes on that spot and holds his breath.
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Merlin doesn't realize he's walking forward until he feels the icy water bite at his ankles. He doesn't care.
Arthur's arms are warm around Merlin, his lips soft and patient while Merlin clings to him and sucks in deep gasping breaths, like he can finally breath, like he's been suffocating for ten lifetimes because the only air he can breath is from Arthur's lungs. He sinks his fingers into Arthur's hair and holds on, pulls closer, and Arthur lets him. Arthur's mouth is hot and slick, sloppy and real, and the thought makes Merlin's heart beat like it's ready to explode, like he might drop dead just from sheer relief. His limbs are tingly and numb like they've woken up after a long sleep, but he can't stop touching Arthur, running his hands over everywhere he can reach. The flat of Arthur's palms gently soothe up and down Merlin's back, but it just makes Merlin shudder and try to crawl his way into Arthur's skin so he'll never be without Arthur's touch again.
When Arthur pulls away it feels like Merlin's soul is getting cleaved in two, and he clamps his hands around the back of Arthur's neck. Arthur touches his fingers to Merlin's cheek and stays close for a moment, noses and foreheads pressed together, breath mingling in the small space. Merlin swallows hard and finally lets Arthur pull back far enough to see each other clearly.
Arthur's eyes are clear and blue. They flit across Merlin's face, as if trying to take in everything at once, and then they focus on the tree at Merlin's back. Arthur reaches out and runs his hand over the lovingly carved wood, sinks his fingertips into the grooves. His smile is disparaging and fond as he says, "Merlin, you sentimental idiot."
The laughter bursts out of Merlin's chest, sharp and happy. "Oh shut up, you daft prat!" He swats at Arthur's arm, but his fingers clench until he has the cloth in a tight fist. He buries his face in Arthur's neck and inhales, squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden burn of tears. "Don't ever leave me again."
"I won't," Arthur says into Merlin's hair, and his voice sounds thick. "I'm back for keeps, now. Like you."
And that is too much, too good, and Merlin clings tighter with the fear that Arthur will be snatched away at any moment, like this is all some cruel joke. But Arthur just keeps holding him and rubbing his fingers in calming circles at the nape of Merlin's neck, as if no time had passed for him in Avalon, as if they have all the time in the world, and Merlin lets himself hope. "How?" he asks.
Arthur shrugs. "Magic," he says, and kisses him again.
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Arthur shrugs. "Magic," he says, and kisses him again.
Fabulous ending!
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I love how in love they are, the hope I can feel in Merlin.
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