Kink Me! #1
Kink Me! #1 Closed to new prompts
Welcome to Kink Me! Merlin #1!
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also, kind of turned out to not fit the original prompt so well. SORRY. D: Merlin decided he wouldn't take it.
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Arthur's not entirely sure when humiliating Merlin became such a turn-on for him. Of course, he supposes that he's always felt a hint of it, from their very first meeting; that frisson he couldn't quite place, and the downcast yet still rebellious gaze Merlin would direct only at him, making him want to force those eyes to look even lower.
When Merlin enters his room, Arthur's beyond bored and sick to death of the stifling summer heat. Even within the cool stone walls of the castle there's no respite, and he's determined to have something take his mind off it. He looks up as the door shuts violently, eyes narrowing as they flicker over Merlin's ( ... )
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"Oh, I think you should stay..." he presses a kiss to Merlin's palm, tasting the salt-sweat there with his tongue. Merlin stands stock-still, and Arthur's sure it's only his servant's mess of complicated feelings towards him that prevents him from running, or turning and punching Arthur in the face. "I know about you," he murmurs into the hot skin, feeling the moment the muscles tense beneath his grip, "and you know exactly what I could have done to you ( ... )
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"Just -do it--" he orders through gritted teeth, strangely mesmerised by the way Merlin's hair sticks to his forehead, by the way Merlin's looking at him with - it's not even resentment anymore, or humiliation, it's almost - feral, and Arthur grunts as Merlin suddenly tugs down his trousers and grips his cock, fingers tight around the base and - and - there's no movement. A trickle of ice-water slides down his stomach and he shudders, finally reaching out himself to grab the front of Merlin's shirt, dragging him closer to try and end this frustration. "Merlin." His voice is thick with need and frustration and lust, and Merlin lowers his eyes.
"As you wish, SireArthur almost loses it again when Merlin leans in and simply hovers, breath ghosting over the tip of his cock - and he can't look away because ( ... )
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And you didn't make Arthur a complete twat since even though he tries, Merlin still emerges as having the upper hand.
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Written for the summerpornathonMerlin has long forgotten the smell of his own bed. He inhales trees and dead grass and the tang of the river in which he washes his shirt again and again; they settle in flavours in the dip of his tongue. Arthur’s shift smells of sweat when Merlin takes it off him; it’s the only thing reminding him of Camelot ( ... )
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