Behind the Mask - part 8
Author: archaeologist_d
Title: Behind the mask - part 8
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: A drink, a seedy tavern as Arthur was chasing down rumours of a slaver in the neighbourhood, a slip into stupidity that he wasn’t proud of.
Warnings: talk of potential non-con but nothing explicit; foul language
Word Count:613
Camelot Drabble Prompt bingo 512: candlelight sex
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
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Arthur froze. He could feel Merlin’s warmth heating Arthur’s skin, his arm around him in a half-hug, his hand gentle against Arthur’s cheek. And Arthur didn’t want to move, except to close the gap and sink into him and never come out again.
Merlin, too, must have felt the change. He started to drop his hand, to let Arthur go, but something must have stopped him, maybe the look in Arthur’s eyes, maybe the low protest deep in Arthur’s chest. Instead, Merlin turned, his arms around Arthur as if protecting him and just stayed there, waiting, holding him safe. Hugging him as if Arthur’s life depended upon it.
Normally, Arthur would sputter and tell Merlin off for being so familiar but with every passing moment, instead Arthur wanted to sink deeper into Merlin’s embrace. Burrowing his face into Merlin’s shoulder, feeling the way Merlin’s breath was quickening against Arthur’s skin, it was as if they were at a precipice and about to dive into unknown waters.
And Arthur was tired of playing the untouchable prince. If only once, he’d like to be touched and touching, to feel cherished. To feel loved. To know that Merlin wanted him for himself.
When Merlin didn’t move away, Arthur sunk deeper into his arms, and gently, he mouthed at Merlin’s neck, enjoying the feel of a racing heartbeat against his lips, tasting salt and herbs and Merlin.
Merlin grunted then, not surprised but with a groan and an unasked question. But Arthur didn’t answer, just bit down harder, then sucked at Merlin’s throat, wanting to mark him as his and his alone.
Merlin let him. No, not just let him but pushed against Arthur, almost as if begging for more. So, too, there was an insistent hardness there, at Merlin’s groin and at Arthur’s, and Arthur wanted to fly with the urgency of it.
Arthur’s hands began to explore, caught against Merlin’s rough clothes, but Merlin’s fingers were magic in themselves, loosening up Arthur’s tunic, his belt, and the way everything seemed to fall away.
It was an eternity or maybe only a single breath, time almost at a standstill. Arthur didn’t remember moving to the bed or how there was naked skin against his. He didn’t feel shame or regret or even worry about what his father might think, only that he was soaring on ecstasy and the sound of Merlin crying out his name.
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Afterwards, as they lay, sticky and satiated, Merlin turned onto his side, watching Arthur carefully as he said, “Don’t ever think that I will regret this.” When Arthur just stared at Merlin, not knowing what to say or how to make things better, Merlin, always the braver man, sighed, “Arthur, I know how things work. You’ll have to go back to being a prat and I’ll be your over-worked manservant, but I don’t regret it. And I hope you won’t either. Even if it’s only the once.”
Nodding, Arthur reached over and brushed his fingers over the mark on Merlin’s throat. “As if I’d ever let you go.”
Merlin drew in a sharp breath, then grinned, pushing Arthur back down onto the bed. Sucking on patches of skin, licking and pulling, almost as if he were trying to map all the places that made Arthur groan. Rising pleasure again, Arthur shivering under the onslaught of Merlin’s campaign, Arthur wanted to soar on it all.
Knowing tomorrow would be another day, that at some point, they would have to deal with relationships and duty and secrets, that there would still be masks and society and expectations, but for now, they were alone and together.
And that was good enough for Arthur.
The end
Title: Behind the mask - part 8
Rating: R
Pairing/s: Merlin/Arthur
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: A drink, a seedy tavern as Arthur was chasing down rumours of a slaver in the neighbourhood, a slip into stupidity that he wasn’t proud of.
Warnings: talk of potential non-con but nothing explicit; foul language
Word Count:613
Camelot Drabble Prompt bingo 512: candlelight sex
Disclaimer: I do not own the BBC version of Merlin; They and Shine do. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent to profit. No money has changed hands. No copyright infringement is intended.
-----------------
Arthur froze. He could feel Merlin’s warmth heating Arthur’s skin, his arm around him in a half-hug, his hand gentle against Arthur’s cheek. And Arthur didn’t want to move, except to close the gap and sink into him and never come out again.
Merlin, too, must have felt the change. He started to drop his hand, to let Arthur go, but something must have stopped him, maybe the look in Arthur’s eyes, maybe the low protest deep in Arthur’s chest. Instead, Merlin turned, his arms around Arthur as if protecting him and just stayed there, waiting, holding him safe. Hugging him as if Arthur’s life depended upon it.
Normally, Arthur would sputter and tell Merlin off for being so familiar but with every passing moment, instead Arthur wanted to sink deeper into Merlin’s embrace. Burrowing his face into Merlin’s shoulder, feeling the way Merlin’s breath was quickening against Arthur’s skin, it was as if they were at a precipice and about to dive into unknown waters.
And Arthur was tired of playing the untouchable prince. If only once, he’d like to be touched and touching, to feel cherished. To feel loved. To know that Merlin wanted him for himself.
When Merlin didn’t move away, Arthur sunk deeper into his arms, and gently, he mouthed at Merlin’s neck, enjoying the feel of a racing heartbeat against his lips, tasting salt and herbs and Merlin.
Merlin grunted then, not surprised but with a groan and an unasked question. But Arthur didn’t answer, just bit down harder, then sucked at Merlin’s throat, wanting to mark him as his and his alone.
Merlin let him. No, not just let him but pushed against Arthur, almost as if begging for more. So, too, there was an insistent hardness there, at Merlin’s groin and at Arthur’s, and Arthur wanted to fly with the urgency of it.
Arthur’s hands began to explore, caught against Merlin’s rough clothes, but Merlin’s fingers were magic in themselves, loosening up Arthur’s tunic, his belt, and the way everything seemed to fall away.
It was an eternity or maybe only a single breath, time almost at a standstill. Arthur didn’t remember moving to the bed or how there was naked skin against his. He didn’t feel shame or regret or even worry about what his father might think, only that he was soaring on ecstasy and the sound of Merlin crying out his name.
----------------
Afterwards, as they lay, sticky and satiated, Merlin turned onto his side, watching Arthur carefully as he said, “Don’t ever think that I will regret this.” When Arthur just stared at Merlin, not knowing what to say or how to make things better, Merlin, always the braver man, sighed, “Arthur, I know how things work. You’ll have to go back to being a prat and I’ll be your over-worked manservant, but I don’t regret it. And I hope you won’t either. Even if it’s only the once.”
Nodding, Arthur reached over and brushed his fingers over the mark on Merlin’s throat. “As if I’d ever let you go.”
Merlin drew in a sharp breath, then grinned, pushing Arthur back down onto the bed. Sucking on patches of skin, licking and pulling, almost as if he were trying to map all the places that made Arthur groan. Rising pleasure again, Arthur shivering under the onslaught of Merlin’s campaign, Arthur wanted to soar on it all.
Knowing tomorrow would be another day, that at some point, they would have to deal with relationships and duty and secrets, that there would still be masks and society and expectations, but for now, they were alone and together.
And that was good enough for Arthur.
The end