Polish My Sword, Merlin!
Title: Polish My Sword, Merlin!
Pairing: Yes, it's more Merthur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: porn, but I think that's more of a selling point than a warning. (Besides, the rating kind of gives it away)
Disclaimer: I keep putting them on my Christmas list, but I still haven't gotten them yet
Word count: ~2,000
Summary: "You're not doing it hard enough."
AN: So, um, yeah. I really don't know where this came from, only that my brain is a far larger pervert than I had originally thought. Oh yeah, before I forget, the pauldron is the shoulder bit of the armour, in case anyone was wondering.
Training had gone awful. Terrible. And it was not Arthur’s fault, oh no, it was his stupid, stupid manservant’s. Who he planned to run through with his sword had it not been blunt. That was his actual fighting sword, not his training sword - all the training swords were blunt. No, he meant the sword he was hacking at the straw figure with, which apparently couldn’t even cut through that. However, the ‘blunt’ training swords had been perfectly able to slice through the leather strap holding up his pauldron, which Merlin was supposed to have replaced. Oh, he was going to kill him.
*****
Merlin was just changing the sheets on the king’s bed when the devil himself came storming into the room, slamming the door behind and shouting “MERLIN!” in a ferocious voice.
“Yes sire?” Merlin sighed, exasperated. What had he done now?
“Do you know what this is?” Arthur snarls, holding the broken pauldron up to his face.
“Your armour, sire.”
“What do you notice about my armour, Merlin?”
“You broke the strap, sire.”
“I broke the strap?! You were supposed to have gotten a new one!”
“A new strap is being made, sire, it’s not available for a few days.”
“Well what about my sword!”
“What about your sword, sire?”
“It’s blunt! I told you to sharpen it!”
“You told me to sharpen all of the swords in the armoury, except the training ones. Evidently, I didn’t get round to that one. There are a lot of swords in the armoury, sire.”
“I’m paying you to ‘get round’ to it!”
“Then I shall get round to it, sire, after I’ve finished laundering your sheets.”
“You were supposed to do this yesterday, you will get round to it right now!”
“Yes sire,” Merlin mutters, knowing that Arthur can tell he’s only addressing him properly in mockery, reaching for the sword.
“No, no,” Arthur orders, “you are going to sharpen it right here, so I can see that you’re doing it properly!”
“Fine,” Merlin growls, striding towards the door, “I’ll just go get the tools from the armoury.”
*****
With Merlin sitting on the floor sharpening his sword whilst he surveys from his seat at the foot of the bed, Arthur forgets one very vital thing. And that very vital thing was, of course, the very powerful sexual attraction Merlin held for the young king. Normally, he could keep it under wraps, but watching Merlin running his hands up and down the length of his sword, oh gods - was. Not. Helping.
“Sire?” Merlin asks, startling Arthur out of his reverie. Crap, he must have been staring.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Arthur stammers, by way of excuse.
“There haven’t been any complaints before now,” Merlin huffs, dropping the sire.
“You’re not doing it hard enough.”
“Like this?” Merlin puts more pressure on the sword, and Arthur’s previously half hard cock is now straining in his breeches.
“Harder.”
Merlin’s eyes alight on the painfully obvious erection between Arthur’s legs, and, much to Arthur’s surprise, he grins. Raising his eyebrows at Arthur, Merlin strokes harder and faster up and down the length of the sword in his hands. Arthur clenches his hands on his thighs to prevent them from making their way to his groin. Merlin stops suddenly, and Arthur groans low in his throat in protest.
“Do you know what I think this sword really needs?”
Arthur just shakes his head, lost for words.
“A nice polish.” Merlin answers his own question, and before Arthur can begin to make his tongue feel like it is, in fact, a part of his body, Merlin is licking up the flat of the blade.
“Oh, shit.” Arthur moans loudly, giving in and pressing the heel of his hand to his crotch, rubbing. Merlin pulls his tongue away from the cold metal of the sword, grinning like the cat that got in the bloody cream, and placing the weapon on the ground, shuffled on his knees to where Arthur was perched.
“Can I help you with that, my lord?”
“Nnngh,” Arthur just groans, spreading his legs in assent, which evidently weren’t the only things spreading as Merlin’s lusty and satisfied grin grew wider. As soon as he felt fingers attacking the laces of his breeches, Arthur knows he wasn’t going to last long. He tries to warn Merlin of this inevitable fact, but all that comes out is “uh” and “yes” and “hurry up, Merlin, please”. A part of Arthur’s brain began to worry; clearly he was developing some kind of ‘mental affliction’ as his father would have called it, as he was completely incapable of coherent speech. This part of Arthur’s mind was promptly shut out as Merlin’s slender fingers, finally finally wrapped around his cock, pulling it from the surrounding cloth.
“Care to polish my sword, Merlin?” Aha, so he could speak in full sentences! Oh no, no he couldn’t, not when Merlin leans forward and puts his lips on his dick. And really, no one has any right to look so delectable with their mouth full of cock, eyes closed in bliss (or concentration, but Arthur preferred bliss) and plump, red lips stretched wide. Merlin pulls off suddenly, letting go with a wet pop, grinning cheekily at Arthur’s whine of complaint, fingers tightening in his hair (how did they get there?)
“This sword requires a much more thorough polishing than I had initially thought, my lord,” Merlin says in a mock serious tone, “it’s very rusty, it hasn’t been used for a while.” Arthur swats him at that, laughing breathily. He’s never really enjoyed the company and conversation of his previous bed partners, and was beginning to see the appeal of having a permanent one. Merlin pushes him down aggressively onto the bed, slim hands surprisingly heavy on Arthur’s broad shoulders. Arthur stared up into Merlin’s face, seeing mingled love and lust in his eyes that mirrored his own. Arthur was enjoying the lovely pale blue they were before they fluttered closed and Merlin’s lips were taking his possessively, dominating him the way he secretly loved.
Merlin was well practised in taking off Arthur’s clothes, it being one of the few perks of being the royal prat’s manservant. Merlin struggled little in pulling Arthur’s trousers and undergarments all the way down to his ankles, and then unbuckling his boots so he could take them all the way off. Next he went straight to work on Arthur’s tunic, trying to be methodical about it in the hope that he might be able to keep his libido under control - and failing miserably. He practically tore the shirt from Arthur’s chest, breathing heavily and looking close to mad with lust. Arthur stared at him with naked arousal, his hands pulling Merlin’s own shirt from his body. Merlin let out a desperate groan and started trailing quick kisses down Arthur’s chest until he reached his cock once more, swallowing it down until the tip brushed the back of his throat and he fought not to gag. However, the “oh gods, Merlin!” and wanton spreading of Arthur’s thighs was certainly worth it. As he fumbled with the laces on his own breeches, Merlin licked and sucked at Arthur’s cock, his moans matching the king’s own. Without warning, Merlin pulled off again, quickly shoving down the remainder of his clothes and clambering onto Arthur’s body, straddling his hips, which Arthur grabbed onto as an anchor.
“How do you plan on, ah, cleaning this rusty sword then?”
“Well sire, I think the best remedy is a healthy bit of oil and a good rub down.”
Eyes glowing golden, Merlin summoned Arthur’s bath oil from one of the cupboards. Arthur holds back a gasp, biting his lip to keep from coming straight away. Arthur remembered the day Merlin had confronted them at the council, admitting to his magic after having been spotted saving Arthur’s life by Gwaine, who had forced Merlin to tell. Not out of cruelty or spite - no, Gwaine was far too immaturely fascinated by Merlin’s magic for that - but for his own good; to get credit where credit was due, and to feel safe amongst his friends. Arthur had been shocked to realise that upon Merlin’s reveal, the feeling at the forefront of his mixed emotions was arousal (imagine all the things Merlin could do to him in bed, with all that power), so he had covered it up with anger instead. Which turned into real anger when all of his closest knights gave him the cold shoulder. Bastards.
Arthur was slapped straight back to the present when he felt oil being slathered over his cock.
“Ah yes Merlin, that’s it, yeah - wait, what are you doing?”
Merlin had removed his oily hand from paying attention to his prick and was reaching behind himself to do - something. It must feel good, considering the sexy little squeaks Merlin kept emitting. Once he’d apparently finished, Merlin raised an eyebrow at Arthur.
“You’ve never had sex with a man before, have you, Arthur?”
“Where did you just touch yourself? What were you doing?”
Merlin grinned at him; oh, this was going to be so good.
“You’ll see.”
And with that, Merlin shuffled into position and gripped the base of Arthur’s dick to guide it into his hole. Arthur simply watched, mouth agape as he slowly slid into blindingly tight heat. He was pushing into Merlin’s arsehole - how on earth was he able to fit inside! Arthur had no idea a man could get pleasure that way, but apparently he could, gathering from the look on Merlin’s face that told him he was absolutely loving it. They were still for a moment, both breathing heavily and Arthur buried in Merlin to the hilt.
“Merlin, Merlin -”
“Does it feel good to be in me?”
“Oh yes, yes, move on me, please,” Arthur wriggled his hips, however, he stopped when he heard Merlin suck in a breath through gritted teeth and clenched his hands on Arthur’s thighs.
“You feel so amazing in me Arthur, huge and hard and perfect, so hot - it just, it hurts a bit at the start.”
“Oh,” Arthur mumbled, feeling stupid. Of course it would hurt, something that size (if he did say so himself) squeezing into a hole that small. Slowly, Merlin started to bounce gently up and down on Arthur’s cock, making Arthur groan and nearly scream, gripping Merlin’s hips so hard he had to be leaving bruises.
“You’re not doing it hard enough,” Arthur pants, attempting a smirk. Merlin grins cheekily at him, his laughter filling the room with light and happiness before riding Arthur with vigour, making the bed creak.
“A-Arthur, I’m nearly there, touch me, please,” Merlin pleads, and Arthur unthinkingly does as he’s told, wanting desperately to see Merlin come, preferably all over his chest. Merlin’s scream resonates through the room as his semen splatters Arthur’s torso, and that’s all it takes for him to push once more into Merlin’s body and come into him.
It is at that moment, Merlin still bouncing in Arthur’s lap to squeeze the last out of the orgasm flowing into him and spunk dripping down his cock, that the door to the chambers opens. A mass of silver armour and Camelot red tunics come in, Leon beginning with, “Sire, we -” before stuttering to a stop to take in the scene around them. Gwaine instantly collapses into laughter and Percival - closest to the door - shuffles awkwardly out of the room, whilst Leon blushes and stammers, “sorry sire, we’ll come back later.”
“You’ve seen everything now, Leon, you might as well say what you wanted to say.”
Meanwhile, Merlin collapses onto Arthur’s chest, panting with exhaustion, his body pink and sweaty and Arthur admires it, pressing a kiss into Merlin’s hair.
“Well, sire, you seemed upset at training earlier and we…” Leon stops as Arthur drags his fingers through the come on his chest, painting Merlin’s body with it. Leon deserves to feel awkward, he should have knocked on the door before just walking in.
“We came to see if you wanted to come down to the Rising Sun for a pint to cheer you up, but clearly Merlin’s done that for us!” Gwaine finishes, half laughing, completely unfazed at having seen two of his best friends going at it like rabbits.
“Well, yes, um, that,” Leon splutters, his face nearly the same colour as his tunic, “we’ll see you later.” And with that he practically fled from the room. Arthur and Merlin looked at Gwaine, still standing there wearing his face splitting smile.
“What? I don’t feel awkward.”
“Get. Out.” Arthur orders, and without his grin fading at all - for heavens sake, Gwaine was as bad as Merlin - Gwaine winked at them, then strode from the room, closing the door behind him. Arthur grumbles and nuzzles his face into Merlin’s neck, who chuckles, arranging them so they lay side by side and hooked a leg over Arthur’s hip. They fell asleep in the afternoon sun, safe in the knowledge that Gwaine would have proclaimed a warning to all he met “don’t go in the king’s chambers, he’s having his sword polished!”
Pairing: Yes, it's more Merthur
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: porn, but I think that's more of a selling point than a warning. (Besides, the rating kind of gives it away)
Disclaimer: I keep putting them on my Christmas list, but I still haven't gotten them yet
Word count: ~2,000
Summary: "You're not doing it hard enough."
AN: So, um, yeah. I really don't know where this came from, only that my brain is a far larger pervert than I had originally thought. Oh yeah, before I forget, the pauldron is the shoulder bit of the armour, in case anyone was wondering.
Training had gone awful. Terrible. And it was not Arthur’s fault, oh no, it was his stupid, stupid manservant’s. Who he planned to run through with his sword had it not been blunt. That was his actual fighting sword, not his training sword - all the training swords were blunt. No, he meant the sword he was hacking at the straw figure with, which apparently couldn’t even cut through that. However, the ‘blunt’ training swords had been perfectly able to slice through the leather strap holding up his pauldron, which Merlin was supposed to have replaced. Oh, he was going to kill him.
*****
Merlin was just changing the sheets on the king’s bed when the devil himself came storming into the room, slamming the door behind and shouting “MERLIN!” in a ferocious voice.
“Yes sire?” Merlin sighed, exasperated. What had he done now?
“Do you know what this is?” Arthur snarls, holding the broken pauldron up to his face.
“Your armour, sire.”
“What do you notice about my armour, Merlin?”
“You broke the strap, sire.”
“I broke the strap?! You were supposed to have gotten a new one!”
“A new strap is being made, sire, it’s not available for a few days.”
“Well what about my sword!”
“What about your sword, sire?”
“It’s blunt! I told you to sharpen it!”
“You told me to sharpen all of the swords in the armoury, except the training ones. Evidently, I didn’t get round to that one. There are a lot of swords in the armoury, sire.”
“I’m paying you to ‘get round’ to it!”
“Then I shall get round to it, sire, after I’ve finished laundering your sheets.”
“You were supposed to do this yesterday, you will get round to it right now!”
“Yes sire,” Merlin mutters, knowing that Arthur can tell he’s only addressing him properly in mockery, reaching for the sword.
“No, no,” Arthur orders, “you are going to sharpen it right here, so I can see that you’re doing it properly!”
“Fine,” Merlin growls, striding towards the door, “I’ll just go get the tools from the armoury.”
*****
With Merlin sitting on the floor sharpening his sword whilst he surveys from his seat at the foot of the bed, Arthur forgets one very vital thing. And that very vital thing was, of course, the very powerful sexual attraction Merlin held for the young king. Normally, he could keep it under wraps, but watching Merlin running his hands up and down the length of his sword, oh gods - was. Not. Helping.
“Sire?” Merlin asks, startling Arthur out of his reverie. Crap, he must have been staring.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Arthur stammers, by way of excuse.
“There haven’t been any complaints before now,” Merlin huffs, dropping the sire.
“You’re not doing it hard enough.”
“Like this?” Merlin puts more pressure on the sword, and Arthur’s previously half hard cock is now straining in his breeches.
“Harder.”
Merlin’s eyes alight on the painfully obvious erection between Arthur’s legs, and, much to Arthur’s surprise, he grins. Raising his eyebrows at Arthur, Merlin strokes harder and faster up and down the length of the sword in his hands. Arthur clenches his hands on his thighs to prevent them from making their way to his groin. Merlin stops suddenly, and Arthur groans low in his throat in protest.
“Do you know what I think this sword really needs?”
Arthur just shakes his head, lost for words.
“A nice polish.” Merlin answers his own question, and before Arthur can begin to make his tongue feel like it is, in fact, a part of his body, Merlin is licking up the flat of the blade.
“Oh, shit.” Arthur moans loudly, giving in and pressing the heel of his hand to his crotch, rubbing. Merlin pulls his tongue away from the cold metal of the sword, grinning like the cat that got in the bloody cream, and placing the weapon on the ground, shuffled on his knees to where Arthur was perched.
“Can I help you with that, my lord?”
“Nnngh,” Arthur just groans, spreading his legs in assent, which evidently weren’t the only things spreading as Merlin’s lusty and satisfied grin grew wider. As soon as he felt fingers attacking the laces of his breeches, Arthur knows he wasn’t going to last long. He tries to warn Merlin of this inevitable fact, but all that comes out is “uh” and “yes” and “hurry up, Merlin, please”. A part of Arthur’s brain began to worry; clearly he was developing some kind of ‘mental affliction’ as his father would have called it, as he was completely incapable of coherent speech. This part of Arthur’s mind was promptly shut out as Merlin’s slender fingers, finally finally wrapped around his cock, pulling it from the surrounding cloth.
“Care to polish my sword, Merlin?” Aha, so he could speak in full sentences! Oh no, no he couldn’t, not when Merlin leans forward and puts his lips on his dick. And really, no one has any right to look so delectable with their mouth full of cock, eyes closed in bliss (or concentration, but Arthur preferred bliss) and plump, red lips stretched wide. Merlin pulls off suddenly, letting go with a wet pop, grinning cheekily at Arthur’s whine of complaint, fingers tightening in his hair (how did they get there?)
“This sword requires a much more thorough polishing than I had initially thought, my lord,” Merlin says in a mock serious tone, “it’s very rusty, it hasn’t been used for a while.” Arthur swats him at that, laughing breathily. He’s never really enjoyed the company and conversation of his previous bed partners, and was beginning to see the appeal of having a permanent one. Merlin pushes him down aggressively onto the bed, slim hands surprisingly heavy on Arthur’s broad shoulders. Arthur stared up into Merlin’s face, seeing mingled love and lust in his eyes that mirrored his own. Arthur was enjoying the lovely pale blue they were before they fluttered closed and Merlin’s lips were taking his possessively, dominating him the way he secretly loved.
Merlin was well practised in taking off Arthur’s clothes, it being one of the few perks of being the royal prat’s manservant. Merlin struggled little in pulling Arthur’s trousers and undergarments all the way down to his ankles, and then unbuckling his boots so he could take them all the way off. Next he went straight to work on Arthur’s tunic, trying to be methodical about it in the hope that he might be able to keep his libido under control - and failing miserably. He practically tore the shirt from Arthur’s chest, breathing heavily and looking close to mad with lust. Arthur stared at him with naked arousal, his hands pulling Merlin’s own shirt from his body. Merlin let out a desperate groan and started trailing quick kisses down Arthur’s chest until he reached his cock once more, swallowing it down until the tip brushed the back of his throat and he fought not to gag. However, the “oh gods, Merlin!” and wanton spreading of Arthur’s thighs was certainly worth it. As he fumbled with the laces on his own breeches, Merlin licked and sucked at Arthur’s cock, his moans matching the king’s own. Without warning, Merlin pulled off again, quickly shoving down the remainder of his clothes and clambering onto Arthur’s body, straddling his hips, which Arthur grabbed onto as an anchor.
“How do you plan on, ah, cleaning this rusty sword then?”
“Well sire, I think the best remedy is a healthy bit of oil and a good rub down.”
Eyes glowing golden, Merlin summoned Arthur’s bath oil from one of the cupboards. Arthur holds back a gasp, biting his lip to keep from coming straight away. Arthur remembered the day Merlin had confronted them at the council, admitting to his magic after having been spotted saving Arthur’s life by Gwaine, who had forced Merlin to tell. Not out of cruelty or spite - no, Gwaine was far too immaturely fascinated by Merlin’s magic for that - but for his own good; to get credit where credit was due, and to feel safe amongst his friends. Arthur had been shocked to realise that upon Merlin’s reveal, the feeling at the forefront of his mixed emotions was arousal (imagine all the things Merlin could do to him in bed, with all that power), so he had covered it up with anger instead. Which turned into real anger when all of his closest knights gave him the cold shoulder. Bastards.
Arthur was slapped straight back to the present when he felt oil being slathered over his cock.
“Ah yes Merlin, that’s it, yeah - wait, what are you doing?”
Merlin had removed his oily hand from paying attention to his prick and was reaching behind himself to do - something. It must feel good, considering the sexy little squeaks Merlin kept emitting. Once he’d apparently finished, Merlin raised an eyebrow at Arthur.
“You’ve never had sex with a man before, have you, Arthur?”
“Where did you just touch yourself? What were you doing?”
Merlin grinned at him; oh, this was going to be so good.
“You’ll see.”
And with that, Merlin shuffled into position and gripped the base of Arthur’s dick to guide it into his hole. Arthur simply watched, mouth agape as he slowly slid into blindingly tight heat. He was pushing into Merlin’s arsehole - how on earth was he able to fit inside! Arthur had no idea a man could get pleasure that way, but apparently he could, gathering from the look on Merlin’s face that told him he was absolutely loving it. They were still for a moment, both breathing heavily and Arthur buried in Merlin to the hilt.
“Merlin, Merlin -”
“Does it feel good to be in me?”
“Oh yes, yes, move on me, please,” Arthur wriggled his hips, however, he stopped when he heard Merlin suck in a breath through gritted teeth and clenched his hands on Arthur’s thighs.
“You feel so amazing in me Arthur, huge and hard and perfect, so hot - it just, it hurts a bit at the start.”
“Oh,” Arthur mumbled, feeling stupid. Of course it would hurt, something that size (if he did say so himself) squeezing into a hole that small. Slowly, Merlin started to bounce gently up and down on Arthur’s cock, making Arthur groan and nearly scream, gripping Merlin’s hips so hard he had to be leaving bruises.
“You’re not doing it hard enough,” Arthur pants, attempting a smirk. Merlin grins cheekily at him, his laughter filling the room with light and happiness before riding Arthur with vigour, making the bed creak.
“A-Arthur, I’m nearly there, touch me, please,” Merlin pleads, and Arthur unthinkingly does as he’s told, wanting desperately to see Merlin come, preferably all over his chest. Merlin’s scream resonates through the room as his semen splatters Arthur’s torso, and that’s all it takes for him to push once more into Merlin’s body and come into him.
It is at that moment, Merlin still bouncing in Arthur’s lap to squeeze the last out of the orgasm flowing into him and spunk dripping down his cock, that the door to the chambers opens. A mass of silver armour and Camelot red tunics come in, Leon beginning with, “Sire, we -” before stuttering to a stop to take in the scene around them. Gwaine instantly collapses into laughter and Percival - closest to the door - shuffles awkwardly out of the room, whilst Leon blushes and stammers, “sorry sire, we’ll come back later.”
“You’ve seen everything now, Leon, you might as well say what you wanted to say.”
Meanwhile, Merlin collapses onto Arthur’s chest, panting with exhaustion, his body pink and sweaty and Arthur admires it, pressing a kiss into Merlin’s hair.
“Well, sire, you seemed upset at training earlier and we…” Leon stops as Arthur drags his fingers through the come on his chest, painting Merlin’s body with it. Leon deserves to feel awkward, he should have knocked on the door before just walking in.
“We came to see if you wanted to come down to the Rising Sun for a pint to cheer you up, but clearly Merlin’s done that for us!” Gwaine finishes, half laughing, completely unfazed at having seen two of his best friends going at it like rabbits.
“Well, yes, um, that,” Leon splutters, his face nearly the same colour as his tunic, “we’ll see you later.” And with that he practically fled from the room. Arthur and Merlin looked at Gwaine, still standing there wearing his face splitting smile.
“What? I don’t feel awkward.”
“Get. Out.” Arthur orders, and without his grin fading at all - for heavens sake, Gwaine was as bad as Merlin - Gwaine winked at them, then strode from the room, closing the door behind him. Arthur grumbles and nuzzles his face into Merlin’s neck, who chuckles, arranging them so they lay side by side and hooked a leg over Arthur’s hip. They fell asleep in the afternoon sun, safe in the knowledge that Gwaine would have proclaimed a warning to all he met “don’t go in the king’s chambers, he’s having his sword polished!”