Summerpornathon Challenge Five
Title: The Scar
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Wordcount: ~700
Challenge: Five: kinkme_merlin prompts.
Summary: For summerpornathon and this prompt: In contrast to the rest of him, Arthur has really soft, vulnerably pale thighs. Merlin is obsessed with them. ETA: Now available as a podfic by kick_flaw here.
There was a scar on the inside of Arthur’s thigh. It was a tiny thing, no longer than the top joint of Merlin’s thumb, and Arthur didn’t even seem to remember where he’d got it. A tiny silvery line, hidden amongst the wispy blond hair, so faint that you could only see if it you were right up close. Merlin was probably the only person in Camelot who knew it was there. It was the only flaw on the soft, pale skin of Arthur’s thighs, and Merlin loved it. It was his favourite spot on Arthur’s body.
He kissed it gently, ran his tongue over it, feeling for the ever-so-slightly upraised ridge beneath the skin. Arthur let out a frustrated sound. Merlin grinned against his thigh, and began to suckle kisses along it, working his way up as slowly as he dared.
“Merlin, come on,” said Arthur.
“You’re so impatient,” Merlin mumbled into his thigh. He’d reached the most sensitive part now, the softest part, just below the crease where thigh met groin, and Arthur’s breath was hitching.
“What is it with you and my thighs?” he said, struggling to keep his voice level.
Merlin pulled back a little to consider the question, smoothed his thumb over the wet patch his mouth had left. Arthur squirmed a little, so he breathed out, blew cold air across the wet skin, and Arthur hissed. “They’re like a secret,” he said.
“You’re ridiculous,” said Arthur. “Now will you get on with it?”
“We’ve got all night.” They had all the time in the world. The candles were only just starting to burn down, and there was a gentle early evening breeze blowing in through the window.
Arthur’s thighs were a secret. The rest of him was hard and muscular, calloused from swordplay and scarred from battle, but the skin on his thighs was soft and pale, even when the muscles underneath were tense. Right there, right in the most intimate, most private part of him, Arthur was all soft and vulnerable and delicate.
Merlin dipped his head, ran his tongue over the little scar once more, then sat up, shivering a little, gripping his prick in one hand and Arthur’s thigh in the other.
“Are you done with them now?” said Arthur, shifting about on the bed, legs opening a tiny bit wider, almost imperceptibly.
“No,” said Merlin. “They’re lovely.” He squeezed Arthur’s thigh and began to arrange himself, straddling Arthur, and then all he had to do was push forward a little and - yes. Yes.
His prick thrust up against Arthur’s thigh, gliding wet and velvety-smooth, leaving little smears of praecum in its wake. Arthur grumbled, but closed his legs around it, squeezing it gently between his thighs, hot and soft and tight, and Merlin gasped and clutched at Arthur’s chest, his shoulders, rocking back and forth.
“You really like that, don’t you?” Arthur was moving with him, rubbing his thighs against Merlin’s prick. “That’s it. Keep going. Oh, yes, you love that.” He pressed his thighs together, squeezing Merlin harder, then a little harder, and Merlin pushed his prick in as deep as he could - it was so good, so soft and tense and perfect, he just wanted to crawl up between Arthur’s thighs and never come out, and he might have said so because Arthur laughed and pushed back still harder, and Merlin came with a choked yell, thrusting erratically, then sagged down onto Arthur’s chest, prick softening between his thighs.
Arthur gave him a moment or two to get his breath back, then gave him a shake. “Alright, now you’re done.” He rested a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and shoved him down. “My cock isn’t going to suck itself, you know.”
Merlin managed a smile, then slipped back down between Arthur’s thighs and wrapped his lips around the softening head of Arthur’s prick, sucking gently until it began to swell in his mouth, trailing his fingers up and down Arthur’s inner thigh, soft and damp with sweat, feeling for the upraised edge of the scar, that little secret of Arthur’s that only he knew, but it was alright, because Arthur knew some secrets of his, too.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Wordcount: ~700
Challenge: Five: kinkme_merlin prompts.
Summary: For summerpornathon and this prompt: In contrast to the rest of him, Arthur has really soft, vulnerably pale thighs. Merlin is obsessed with them. ETA: Now available as a podfic by kick_flaw here.
There was a scar on the inside of Arthur’s thigh. It was a tiny thing, no longer than the top joint of Merlin’s thumb, and Arthur didn’t even seem to remember where he’d got it. A tiny silvery line, hidden amongst the wispy blond hair, so faint that you could only see if it you were right up close. Merlin was probably the only person in Camelot who knew it was there. It was the only flaw on the soft, pale skin of Arthur’s thighs, and Merlin loved it. It was his favourite spot on Arthur’s body.
He kissed it gently, ran his tongue over it, feeling for the ever-so-slightly upraised ridge beneath the skin. Arthur let out a frustrated sound. Merlin grinned against his thigh, and began to suckle kisses along it, working his way up as slowly as he dared.
“Merlin, come on,” said Arthur.
“You’re so impatient,” Merlin mumbled into his thigh. He’d reached the most sensitive part now, the softest part, just below the crease where thigh met groin, and Arthur’s breath was hitching.
“What is it with you and my thighs?” he said, struggling to keep his voice level.
Merlin pulled back a little to consider the question, smoothed his thumb over the wet patch his mouth had left. Arthur squirmed a little, so he breathed out, blew cold air across the wet skin, and Arthur hissed. “They’re like a secret,” he said.
“You’re ridiculous,” said Arthur. “Now will you get on with it?”
“We’ve got all night.” They had all the time in the world. The candles were only just starting to burn down, and there was a gentle early evening breeze blowing in through the window.
Arthur’s thighs were a secret. The rest of him was hard and muscular, calloused from swordplay and scarred from battle, but the skin on his thighs was soft and pale, even when the muscles underneath were tense. Right there, right in the most intimate, most private part of him, Arthur was all soft and vulnerable and delicate.
Merlin dipped his head, ran his tongue over the little scar once more, then sat up, shivering a little, gripping his prick in one hand and Arthur’s thigh in the other.
“Are you done with them now?” said Arthur, shifting about on the bed, legs opening a tiny bit wider, almost imperceptibly.
“No,” said Merlin. “They’re lovely.” He squeezed Arthur’s thigh and began to arrange himself, straddling Arthur, and then all he had to do was push forward a little and - yes. Yes.
His prick thrust up against Arthur’s thigh, gliding wet and velvety-smooth, leaving little smears of praecum in its wake. Arthur grumbled, but closed his legs around it, squeezing it gently between his thighs, hot and soft and tight, and Merlin gasped and clutched at Arthur’s chest, his shoulders, rocking back and forth.
“You really like that, don’t you?” Arthur was moving with him, rubbing his thighs against Merlin’s prick. “That’s it. Keep going. Oh, yes, you love that.” He pressed his thighs together, squeezing Merlin harder, then a little harder, and Merlin pushed his prick in as deep as he could - it was so good, so soft and tense and perfect, he just wanted to crawl up between Arthur’s thighs and never come out, and he might have said so because Arthur laughed and pushed back still harder, and Merlin came with a choked yell, thrusting erratically, then sagged down onto Arthur’s chest, prick softening between his thighs.
Arthur gave him a moment or two to get his breath back, then gave him a shake. “Alright, now you’re done.” He rested a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and shoved him down. “My cock isn’t going to suck itself, you know.”
Merlin managed a smile, then slipped back down between Arthur’s thighs and wrapped his lips around the softening head of Arthur’s prick, sucking gently until it began to swell in his mouth, trailing his fingers up and down Arthur’s inner thigh, soft and damp with sweat, feeling for the upraised edge of the scar, that little secret of Arthur’s that only he knew, but it was alright, because Arthur knew some secrets of his, too.