(no subject)
Title: Call Me Dumb, Call Me Wild
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1012
Summary: To improve Camelot-druid relations, Arthur takes part in a ceremony that has Merlin only sitting on the edge and watching. Merlin didn't like it at all.
Notes: Written for challenge 1 of Summer Pornathon 2012. This is the final version I completed before having to cut it down to fit the limit. Title from Darren Criss' song 'Jealousy'.
The various triskeles, knots, and triquetras had become smudged, rubbing off on the druid elder’s hands, and then the sheets (probably Merlin’s skin, too) when the night had stretched over the sun.
"We should get ready to leave," Arthur murmured. Merlin lifted his head and stared, bleary-eyed.
"Now? No one else is awake."
"I didn't say right now, did I? You did nothing but scowl at these symbols all night; we're going to the lake."
Merlin sat up, reaching for his tunic. Arthur smirked.
#
Merlin bent down to test the heat of the water. It was nothing a small warming spell wouldn’t fix. He rose and turned around again, gold fading from his eyes, to see Arthur pushing his breeches to the ground, his tunic beside him. Merlin swallowed. The paint looked less strange, almost silly, now. Especially as Arthur stared out at the horizon, sunlight hitting his skin instead of firelight and shadows.
"Are you going to get in the water or not?”
Arthur walked past him, lips curved upwards at the corners, and Merlin removed his own clothes and grabbed the cloth he'd brought, following Arthur into the lake.
The paint was already mixing with the water, and it came away easily when Merlin wiped the cloth over Arthur's skin.
#
There must have been some intrinsic enchantments in the symbols, because now that they were gone, Arthur didn’t feel so... strange. Merlin’s magic had been restless all night, wary of what Merlin knew now to be the new magic on Arthur. He’d been drenched in only Merlin’s magic for so long that it didn’t recognise him properly when mere symbols were painted on him.
Merlin buried his hands in Arthur’s hair, gasping as his magic surged through him, stealing his breath.
#
“Did you bring the oil?”
Merlin swore, lying back on the ground, closing his eyes, and his hand into a fist. A few seconds later he thrust the phial at Arthur, who took it and got the oil everywhere when he fumbled with the lid.
“One way of doing it,” Merlin said breathlessly, squirming as Arthur dragged his fingers through the oil on Merlin’s stomach. He bypassed Merlin completely, though, wrapping his fingers around his own cock and pulling lazily, sighing out a soft groan. Merlin watched, frustrated and helpless to do anything but stare as Arthur’s cockhead slid through his grasp, shining with oil and water.
“You hated seeing me like that, didn’t you? Wearing their ... ‘colours’,” Arthur said, looking down at Merlin, who dragged his eyes up to Arthur’s face with visible effort. He seemed to take a moment to process Arthur’s question, then clenched his jaw.
“I was just wary of them, that’s all.” He dropped his gaze to where a triskele had been painted over Arthur’s heart.
“Yes, yes. You don’t trust- them,” Arthur says, biting his lip and tightening the circle of his hand. And that was absolutely enough of that.
Merlin slid his fingers through the oil trickling between his thighs and followed its path, circling his hole. Arthur frowned and wrenched Merlin’s hand away, leaning, down and knocking the breath out of him.
“You’re a terrible liar, MERlin,” Arthur whispered with a grin, and kissed him again, biting Merlin’s lip just this side of too hard, reaching down to replace Merlin’s fingers. His first finger wasn’t coated in enough oil, and Merlin hissed, nails digging into the skin on Arthur’s back and thrusting his hips up. Arthur softened the kiss, an apology, and pulled away to assure his fingers were covered in the oil before tracing back down to push two fingers in, bending them obligingly to hear Merlin’s whine.
Merlin pushed back, feet slipping in the mud.
“Just- hurry up!” Merlin gasped, pulling Arthur in abruptly, oil making him grind against Merlin. Arthur huffed a laugh and added a third finger, dropping a kiss to Merlin’s chest. He shifted backwards a little, jacking his cock once with his slicked fingers, and pressed forward. He didn’t know whether it was a combination of Merlin and his magic that seemed to pull him in faster than Arthur meant to, or just Merlin clutching at him. It didn’t really matter.
Arthur bit down on Merlin’s shoulder, pressing forwards even as he was inside Merlin as far as he could go. Merlin hummed, high and strained, meeting Arthur’s thrusts halfway, magic spiking in his veins and nearly overwhelming him. Arthur dragged his teeth over the skin he’d bitten, moving steadily, forcefully but maddeningly slow, and Merlin cried out, scraping his nails down Arthur’s back and remembering the sigils that had been put there. Arthur groaned softly, burying his face in Merlin’s neck and holding onto his hips. There hadn’t time for this the night before; they’d been too exhausted - anxious that the visit go well, relieved that it had - and conscious of curious ears that didn’t need to know the tiny details of their relationship.
“You don’t- You shouldn’t have to- defer to them,” Merlin said, palms soothing over the scratches he’d put there. Arthur leaned up on his elbow, fingers cupping the back of Merlin’s head.
“I could hardly ask them to form a treaty without showing I wished to understand them,” Arthur said.
“They didn’t need to try and paint you into one of them,” Merlin replied, fingers clenching on Arthur’s shoulders.
That was it; Merlin had helped Arthur negotiate with them and even then-
His hips jerked erratically as he came, mouthing at Merlin’s neck and angling himself to hit the best spot inside Merlin, who released one of Arthur’s shoulders to stroke himself off, water and oil easing the way until he was tightening around Arthur’s softening cock, neck straining as his head tilted backwards.
Arthur was never going to let him live this down.
#
“We need to wash, and get back.” Arthur said. Merlin hummed in assent, languidly tracing the shape of a dragon onto Arthur’s arm with a finger. They would, in due time. After Merlin had forced Arthur’s tunic over his head, covering the redness of his back.
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 1012
Summary: To improve Camelot-druid relations, Arthur takes part in a ceremony that has Merlin only sitting on the edge and watching. Merlin didn't like it at all.
Notes: Written for challenge 1 of Summer Pornathon 2012. This is the final version I completed before having to cut it down to fit the limit. Title from Darren Criss' song 'Jealousy'.
The various triskeles, knots, and triquetras had become smudged, rubbing off on the druid elder’s hands, and then the sheets (probably Merlin’s skin, too) when the night had stretched over the sun.
"We should get ready to leave," Arthur murmured. Merlin lifted his head and stared, bleary-eyed.
"Now? No one else is awake."
"I didn't say right now, did I? You did nothing but scowl at these symbols all night; we're going to the lake."
Merlin sat up, reaching for his tunic. Arthur smirked.
#
Merlin bent down to test the heat of the water. It was nothing a small warming spell wouldn’t fix. He rose and turned around again, gold fading from his eyes, to see Arthur pushing his breeches to the ground, his tunic beside him. Merlin swallowed. The paint looked less strange, almost silly, now. Especially as Arthur stared out at the horizon, sunlight hitting his skin instead of firelight and shadows.
"Are you going to get in the water or not?”
Arthur walked past him, lips curved upwards at the corners, and Merlin removed his own clothes and grabbed the cloth he'd brought, following Arthur into the lake.
The paint was already mixing with the water, and it came away easily when Merlin wiped the cloth over Arthur's skin.
#
There must have been some intrinsic enchantments in the symbols, because now that they were gone, Arthur didn’t feel so... strange. Merlin’s magic had been restless all night, wary of what Merlin knew now to be the new magic on Arthur. He’d been drenched in only Merlin’s magic for so long that it didn’t recognise him properly when mere symbols were painted on him.
Merlin buried his hands in Arthur’s hair, gasping as his magic surged through him, stealing his breath.
#
“Did you bring the oil?”
Merlin swore, lying back on the ground, closing his eyes, and his hand into a fist. A few seconds later he thrust the phial at Arthur, who took it and got the oil everywhere when he fumbled with the lid.
“One way of doing it,” Merlin said breathlessly, squirming as Arthur dragged his fingers through the oil on Merlin’s stomach. He bypassed Merlin completely, though, wrapping his fingers around his own cock and pulling lazily, sighing out a soft groan. Merlin watched, frustrated and helpless to do anything but stare as Arthur’s cockhead slid through his grasp, shining with oil and water.
“You hated seeing me like that, didn’t you? Wearing their ... ‘colours’,” Arthur said, looking down at Merlin, who dragged his eyes up to Arthur’s face with visible effort. He seemed to take a moment to process Arthur’s question, then clenched his jaw.
“I was just wary of them, that’s all.” He dropped his gaze to where a triskele had been painted over Arthur’s heart.
“Yes, yes. You don’t trust- them,” Arthur says, biting his lip and tightening the circle of his hand. And that was absolutely enough of that.
Merlin slid his fingers through the oil trickling between his thighs and followed its path, circling his hole. Arthur frowned and wrenched Merlin’s hand away, leaning, down and knocking the breath out of him.
“You’re a terrible liar, MERlin,” Arthur whispered with a grin, and kissed him again, biting Merlin’s lip just this side of too hard, reaching down to replace Merlin’s fingers. His first finger wasn’t coated in enough oil, and Merlin hissed, nails digging into the skin on Arthur’s back and thrusting his hips up. Arthur softened the kiss, an apology, and pulled away to assure his fingers were covered in the oil before tracing back down to push two fingers in, bending them obligingly to hear Merlin’s whine.
Merlin pushed back, feet slipping in the mud.
“Just- hurry up!” Merlin gasped, pulling Arthur in abruptly, oil making him grind against Merlin. Arthur huffed a laugh and added a third finger, dropping a kiss to Merlin’s chest. He shifted backwards a little, jacking his cock once with his slicked fingers, and pressed forward. He didn’t know whether it was a combination of Merlin and his magic that seemed to pull him in faster than Arthur meant to, or just Merlin clutching at him. It didn’t really matter.
Arthur bit down on Merlin’s shoulder, pressing forwards even as he was inside Merlin as far as he could go. Merlin hummed, high and strained, meeting Arthur’s thrusts halfway, magic spiking in his veins and nearly overwhelming him. Arthur dragged his teeth over the skin he’d bitten, moving steadily, forcefully but maddeningly slow, and Merlin cried out, scraping his nails down Arthur’s back and remembering the sigils that had been put there. Arthur groaned softly, burying his face in Merlin’s neck and holding onto his hips. There hadn’t time for this the night before; they’d been too exhausted - anxious that the visit go well, relieved that it had - and conscious of curious ears that didn’t need to know the tiny details of their relationship.
“You don’t- You shouldn’t have to- defer to them,” Merlin said, palms soothing over the scratches he’d put there. Arthur leaned up on his elbow, fingers cupping the back of Merlin’s head.
“I could hardly ask them to form a treaty without showing I wished to understand them,” Arthur said.
“They didn’t need to try and paint you into one of them,” Merlin replied, fingers clenching on Arthur’s shoulders.
That was it; Merlin had helped Arthur negotiate with them and even then-
His hips jerked erratically as he came, mouthing at Merlin’s neck and angling himself to hit the best spot inside Merlin, who released one of Arthur’s shoulders to stroke himself off, water and oil easing the way until he was tightening around Arthur’s softening cock, neck straining as his head tilted backwards.
Arthur was never going to let him live this down.
#
“We need to wash, and get back.” Arthur said. Merlin hummed in assent, languidly tracing the shape of a dragon onto Arthur’s arm with a finger. They would, in due time. After Merlin had forced Arthur’s tunic over his head, covering the redness of his back.