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Merlin was wrong, his body could still hurt and hurt it did. The pain pressed out and over his skin in ever increasing intensity the more distant Arthur became. Merlin was no longer permitted in his chambers when Arthur dressed, undressed or bathed, and he was under strict instruction to put on and remove Arthur’s armour with the utmost brevity.
Arthur would not discuss what had happened. His face grew ever paler with the lengthening of the approaching summer days, as if bleached not tanned by the sun. Even the colour in his eyes had faded, as though the hue had been watered down by tears.
When he needed to think, Arthur would go up to the ramparts and look out over the city and the lands beyond. It was there that Merlin found him, stood square and firm, unrelenting.
He didn’t turn his head as he spoke. “What do you want, Merlin?”
“To be able to turn back time and change the past.”
“You can’t do that?” Arthur turned towards him and sneered.
“No.”
“Well, I’m afraid I can’t help you with it. Now is there something ( ... )
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There was a hunk of bread and some chicken still left on Arthur’s platter, which Merlin devoured, then he stripped himself to the waist and removed his boots and hose, until he was dressed only in his britches. The sweat was running in tingling rivulets down his spine and into the dip of his chest bone, his hair sticking damply to his forehead and neck, yet his mouth was parched. He gulped greedily directly from the jug of water on the table, now tepid from hours of standing.
There were many insubordinate and frankly insane things Merlin had done, all in the name of chasing the truth or justice. Well, now he was quite accomplished in that regard, why not apply the same to a matter maybe not of such import to Camelot, but to the Once and Future King? It could be considered a noble endeavour after all. This was a hardly a plan, hardly what could be called insightful or cunning. But Merlin was ( ... )
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“Gonna come, now …”
“Yes, do it, Arthur, ArthurWith each juddering pulse Arthur groaned, as he spilled into Merlin, filling his arse with his hot come, finally brushing over that sweet spot inside him one last time before Merlin’s arse was clenching around Arthur’s spent cock, his come coating his belly in sticky white globules ( ... )
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Lovely story, anon.
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