FIC, Wherein Merlin Wears a Dress and Arthur Buggers the Hell Out of Him, NC-17
Title: Wherein Merlin Wears a Dress and Arthur Buggers the Hell Out of Him
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Spoilers: None
Summary: This is not how Merlin expected his evening to go.
Warnings: Crossdressing, sex with clothes still on, extremely explicit sodomy
Disclaimer: I don’t own BBC’s Merlin.
Word Count: 1,044 words
Author’s Note: Written for this prompt at armer_gayms. Was supposed to be a comment fic, but apparently my Arthur and Merlin are horny little bastards so it turned into a full-fledged PWP. Er. Enjoy?
Merlin’s back hit the bed and then Arthur was on him, big calloused hands shoved up under Merlin’s dress, skimming against Merlin’s calves, his thighs, spanning the width of Merlin’s hips entirely.
This is not how Merlin expected his evening to go.
He hadn’t thought Arthur would pin him against a wall, would tilt Merlin’s head back with a thumb pushed carefully to his jaw and kiss him soft and hungry, would say, “Merlin, can I-would you let me-” and Merlin certainly hadn’t expected to nod and say, “Yes, anything, yes.”
Then again, Merlin hadn’t expected to spend the week disguised as Morgana, either (assassination attempt, long story), so it was fair to say that Merlin was beginning to get used to surprises.
Arthur bit his neck and Merlin gasped, grabbed at Arthur’s back through his doublet and Arthur licked the pink imprint of his teeth on Merlin’s skin, leaned down and said, “I’m gonna fuck you like a girl, Merlin. Gonna get you all wet and take you like this, on your back for me, screaming,” and Merlin made a funny sort of sound halfway between a whimper and a moan and opened his mouth to Arthur’s.
Then Arthur leaned back on his knees and got his britches unbuttoned, got his cock out all thick and hot-flushed and said, “Fuck, I’ve gotta-I need to get something, wait there,” like Merlin would ever consider moving anywhere else, and Merlin laid still on Arthur’s bed and stared up at Arthur’s ceiling, skirts rucked up wanton around his waist, lips slick and swollen from Arthur’s kisses, hair a sweaty mess, and wondered how he’d ended up like this, but only for a moment because then Arthur was back with a bottle of oil he kept hidden in a drawer in his bedside table and there was no more time for thinking.
Merlin tucked his knees against his chest and Arthur slid a slippery finger into his arse and Merlin only had a second to worry about ruining Morgana’s pretty dress before all he could concentrate on was the strange, foreign feeling of something inside him, vaguely uncomfortable but not enough to stop Merlin’s cock from smearing drops of precome against his abdomen.
Arthur said, “That’s it, that’s it, god, you’re so beautiful, you’re perfect,” and pulled at Merlin’s sleeve until it gave and bared Merlin’s pale shoulder to him. He kissed him there, kissed then at the delicate stretch of Merlin’s thin collarbones, his neck, the sensitive bit of skin behind Merlin’s ear, and Merlin writhed and murmured nonsense when Arthur eased another finger into him.
Merlin had just gotten used to Arthur’s fingers when Arthur took them out and lined his cock up against Merlin’s entrance, pushed in, wedged his cock into Merlin huge and demanding and Merlin squirmed, dug his heels into Arthur’s spine and Arthur held him pinned and eased his hips unalterably forward and Merlin grunted and bit his lower lip and opened for him (grudgingly).
Arthur had to stop halfway, Merlin’s body vice-like, too tight to fit any more, and Arthur rubbed his thumb against the intimate stretch of Merlin’s arsehole around him, stroked his narrow hip and kissed him, said, “C’mon, relax, let me in,” and sucked at the stiff peaks of Merlin’s nipples, licked up the little pool of sweat at the hollow of Merlin’s throat. Tugged at Merlin’s flagging cock, steady and confident, until it was hard again, wet and throbbing in the circle of Arthur’s fist.
And that did it, that was the trick: Merlin too distracted with Arthur’s hands and mouth on him to tense up when Arthur worked the last few inches of his prick in.
Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder and panted, balls nudged up against Merlin’s smooth skin, the both of them getting used to the sensation of his cock enveloped in Merlin’s arse. Merlin’s hands tangled loose in Arthur’s hair; he blinked up at nothing, his legs a gangly cradle around Arthur’s hips.
Arthur moved, then-a quick, inquisitive thrust. Exploratory. Merlin’s hands stroked down Arthur’s neck and to his shoulders, holding, and Arthur moved again, and again.
Sometimes he pulled back till only the tip of him was left in Merlin’s body and then pushed it all back in again, a long lingering ache, and sometimes he barely moved back at all, short stuttery jabs like he could hardly stand to leave the grip of Merlin’s arse.
The headboard smacked against the wall (thump, thump, THUMP, THUMP) and Merlin moaned and arched as Arthur fucked him, liking the way his cock felt between Arthur’s firm stomach (he was still wearing the doublet; it was warm and velvety against Merlin’s skin) and the slinky fabric of the dress, and then Arthur touched something in him that made Merlin cry out, harsh and sudden as if struck.
“Did I-are you okay?” Arthur asked him, and Merlin angled his hips to try to get Arthur deeper, to get him to reach that place again, and Merlin said, “Don’t stop!”
Arthur smirked, then-smug and happy-and Merlin traced Arthur’s smile with his fingertip, the upturned corner of it, and kissed him (because he wanted to and he could) and Arthur pushed in and found that place again and kept touching it, over and over, making Merlin yowl and babble things like Oh God you’re brilliant and I fucking love you and I’m gonna, fuck, Arthur, I’m gonna come, I’m- and Arthur jacked at Merlin’s cock and whispered filthy, dirty, lovely, wonderful things in Merlin’s ear until Merlin seized up and ruined Morgana’s dress once and for all, sticky strings of come splashed over the bunched fabric at his middle and the intricate embroidery of the bodice.
Merlin sagged (spent, boneless), head lolling against the pillow, and Arthur grunted, rutted into Merlin uninhibited, their bodies slapping together, and Merlin spread his hand against the damp material at Arthur’s back, languidly encouraging, and told him, “C’mon, I wanna feel you come in me,” and Arthur made an agonized sound and thrust a few more times and then he did, shuddered and spilled his seed into Merlin’s arse and laid his head on Merlin’s naked shoulder, breathing hot against Merlin’s neck.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Spoilers: None
Summary: This is not how Merlin expected his evening to go.
Warnings: Crossdressing, sex with clothes still on, extremely explicit sodomy
Disclaimer: I don’t own BBC’s Merlin.
Word Count: 1,044 words
Author’s Note: Written for this prompt at armer_gayms. Was supposed to be a comment fic, but apparently my Arthur and Merlin are horny little bastards so it turned into a full-fledged PWP. Er. Enjoy?
Merlin’s back hit the bed and then Arthur was on him, big calloused hands shoved up under Merlin’s dress, skimming against Merlin’s calves, his thighs, spanning the width of Merlin’s hips entirely.
This is not how Merlin expected his evening to go.
He hadn’t thought Arthur would pin him against a wall, would tilt Merlin’s head back with a thumb pushed carefully to his jaw and kiss him soft and hungry, would say, “Merlin, can I-would you let me-” and Merlin certainly hadn’t expected to nod and say, “Yes, anything, yes.”
Then again, Merlin hadn’t expected to spend the week disguised as Morgana, either (assassination attempt, long story), so it was fair to say that Merlin was beginning to get used to surprises.
Arthur bit his neck and Merlin gasped, grabbed at Arthur’s back through his doublet and Arthur licked the pink imprint of his teeth on Merlin’s skin, leaned down and said, “I’m gonna fuck you like a girl, Merlin. Gonna get you all wet and take you like this, on your back for me, screaming,” and Merlin made a funny sort of sound halfway between a whimper and a moan and opened his mouth to Arthur’s.
Then Arthur leaned back on his knees and got his britches unbuttoned, got his cock out all thick and hot-flushed and said, “Fuck, I’ve gotta-I need to get something, wait there,” like Merlin would ever consider moving anywhere else, and Merlin laid still on Arthur’s bed and stared up at Arthur’s ceiling, skirts rucked up wanton around his waist, lips slick and swollen from Arthur’s kisses, hair a sweaty mess, and wondered how he’d ended up like this, but only for a moment because then Arthur was back with a bottle of oil he kept hidden in a drawer in his bedside table and there was no more time for thinking.
Merlin tucked his knees against his chest and Arthur slid a slippery finger into his arse and Merlin only had a second to worry about ruining Morgana’s pretty dress before all he could concentrate on was the strange, foreign feeling of something inside him, vaguely uncomfortable but not enough to stop Merlin’s cock from smearing drops of precome against his abdomen.
Arthur said, “That’s it, that’s it, god, you’re so beautiful, you’re perfect,” and pulled at Merlin’s sleeve until it gave and bared Merlin’s pale shoulder to him. He kissed him there, kissed then at the delicate stretch of Merlin’s thin collarbones, his neck, the sensitive bit of skin behind Merlin’s ear, and Merlin writhed and murmured nonsense when Arthur eased another finger into him.
Merlin had just gotten used to Arthur’s fingers when Arthur took them out and lined his cock up against Merlin’s entrance, pushed in, wedged his cock into Merlin huge and demanding and Merlin squirmed, dug his heels into Arthur’s spine and Arthur held him pinned and eased his hips unalterably forward and Merlin grunted and bit his lower lip and opened for him (grudgingly).
Arthur had to stop halfway, Merlin’s body vice-like, too tight to fit any more, and Arthur rubbed his thumb against the intimate stretch of Merlin’s arsehole around him, stroked his narrow hip and kissed him, said, “C’mon, relax, let me in,” and sucked at the stiff peaks of Merlin’s nipples, licked up the little pool of sweat at the hollow of Merlin’s throat. Tugged at Merlin’s flagging cock, steady and confident, until it was hard again, wet and throbbing in the circle of Arthur’s fist.
And that did it, that was the trick: Merlin too distracted with Arthur’s hands and mouth on him to tense up when Arthur worked the last few inches of his prick in.
Arthur rested his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder and panted, balls nudged up against Merlin’s smooth skin, the both of them getting used to the sensation of his cock enveloped in Merlin’s arse. Merlin’s hands tangled loose in Arthur’s hair; he blinked up at nothing, his legs a gangly cradle around Arthur’s hips.
Arthur moved, then-a quick, inquisitive thrust. Exploratory. Merlin’s hands stroked down Arthur’s neck and to his shoulders, holding, and Arthur moved again, and again.
Sometimes he pulled back till only the tip of him was left in Merlin’s body and then pushed it all back in again, a long lingering ache, and sometimes he barely moved back at all, short stuttery jabs like he could hardly stand to leave the grip of Merlin’s arse.
The headboard smacked against the wall (thump, thump, THUMP, THUMP) and Merlin moaned and arched as Arthur fucked him, liking the way his cock felt between Arthur’s firm stomach (he was still wearing the doublet; it was warm and velvety against Merlin’s skin) and the slinky fabric of the dress, and then Arthur touched something in him that made Merlin cry out, harsh and sudden as if struck.
“Did I-are you okay?” Arthur asked him, and Merlin angled his hips to try to get Arthur deeper, to get him to reach that place again, and Merlin said, “Don’t stop!”
Arthur smirked, then-smug and happy-and Merlin traced Arthur’s smile with his fingertip, the upturned corner of it, and kissed him (because he wanted to and he could) and Arthur pushed in and found that place again and kept touching it, over and over, making Merlin yowl and babble things like Oh God you’re brilliant and I fucking love you and I’m gonna, fuck, Arthur, I’m gonna come, I’m- and Arthur jacked at Merlin’s cock and whispered filthy, dirty, lovely, wonderful things in Merlin’s ear until Merlin seized up and ruined Morgana’s dress once and for all, sticky strings of come splashed over the bunched fabric at his middle and the intricate embroidery of the bodice.
Merlin sagged (spent, boneless), head lolling against the pillow, and Arthur grunted, rutted into Merlin uninhibited, their bodies slapping together, and Merlin spread his hand against the damp material at Arthur’s back, languidly encouraging, and told him, “C’mon, I wanna feel you come in me,” and Arthur made an agonized sound and thrust a few more times and then he did, shuddered and spilled his seed into Merlin’s arse and laid his head on Merlin’s naked shoulder, breathing hot against Merlin’s neck.