Ficlets for Springes, Just Listen and While I Kiss You
You'll forgive me for taking a month, because I wrote porn and lots of it, right?? Please??!!
The Day Before Springes Begins - A/M, PG - for piscaria
The Day After Just Listen - Gwaine/Lancelot, NC17 - for archaeologist_d
The First Time Arthur Takes Merlin in the While I Kiss You verse- A/M, NC17 - for aprileaf
As They Mean to Continue (Arthur/Merlin PG)
“For God’s sake, Merlin, if you can’t keep up, stay at home and sew things with Morgana!”
Merlin just grins infuriatingly, hefting the quiver of bolts and quickening his pace only a fraction. Arthur waits for him, crouched on the frozen ground, one eye on the Serkit that’s rapidly moving out of range.
“I’m going to be sewing tonight anyway,” Merlin mumbles, reaching to finger the sleeve of Arthur’s tunic. Just as Arthur moves to jerk his arm away, Merlin lets his hand fall. “Your aim is off and we’re losing the light.”
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Merlin. What would I do without you?” Arthur snaps, snatching away the bolt and loading the crossbow, though he knows the Serkit is long gone - again.
“Perhaps we should break for supper,” Merlin whispers, looking pointedly back at the knights, who are a weary, ragtag group. None of them will be felling a Serkit whilst starving in the freezing dark and, clumsiness aside, Merlin’s usefulness proves out once again. Arthur would chase the thing into oblivion without once looking around himself, but Merlin always has one eye on everyone’s welfare. It’s why Arthur brought him along in the first place.
“Supper such as it is,” Arthur answers, nodding but not looking forward to the meal. All they have left in their packs is dried meat and beans. Meagre fare for men on the hunt, but none of them suspected a Serkit could be so elusive. “Percival, Elyan, circle back to the horses and set up camp. We’ll get cleaned up and follow shortly.”
Merlin smiles wide and turns to follow the newest knights, but Arthur halts him with a hand to his shoulder. Merlin is just as bedraggled as the rest of them, more so because he’s not built or trained for the stamina Arthur’s requiring from him. He shakes his head, not for the first time wondering how he ended up with a manservant like Merlin.
Before he can do more than draw a breath, he remembers. Merlin saved his life. Merlin threw himself in front of a blade without hesitation, seemingly willing to die to save Arthur.
He tightens his grip on Merlin’s shoulder and gives him a friendly shake. “Come on, Merlin. These buckles won’t unfasten themselves.”
Merlin’s grin broadens impossibly wider and then settles a bit as the knights walk on ahead of them. It still reaches his eyes, though, and Merlin’s hand clasps his forearm. “I’m sure you could manage without me...” Merlin purses his lips and looks sideways, then back, shaking his head. “Nahhh,” he says, laughing as he walks on after the knights, grinning back over his shoulder before dropping his pack and making a run for it.
“Oh, now you’re not complaining!” Arthur yells as he chases after him, dodging in and out of trees, weaving between the knights as Merlin tries to use them for cover. Arthur’s hauberk is clacking noisily, his red cloak snagging until he reaches up and yanks the ties, letting it fly away behind him. They half-slide, half-scurry down the bank of a frozen-over stream, Merlin’s boot slipping along the cover of dead leaves and through the sheet of ice into the water.
“Fuck!” Shaking his foot, Merlin leaps to the other side of the stream, then falls to his backside, laughing and panting for breath. “You can’t expect us to wash in that. It’s ice!”
Arthur raises his eyebrows and crouches down, punching through the thin crust, gesturing at the water that comes seeping over the edges of the hole he’s made. “There you go, Merlin. Water.”
Merlin scoffs and throws a pinecone at the stream, missing the hole. “I’ll pass.”
“Then you’ll sleep in the open tonight,” Arthur says casually, as if he won’t miss Merlin’s body heat next to him in the cold air of their tent.
“Fine, but I’m not stripping off,” Merlin grouses, cheeks heating as the knights crunch down the bank, Gwaine’s teasing smile planted across his face.
“Aw, Merlin, it’s the only reason we agreed to this ludicrous idea,” Gwaine jokes, kicking at the ice until it splits beneath his bootheel. “Come on, we’ll do it at the same time,” he says, hands on the hem of his tunic.
“No way! You couldn’t pay me enough!”
Arthur crosses to his side of the stream, Merlin craning his neck curiously when Arthur steps behind him, untying his neckerchief and pushing it into Merlin’s chest. “You’ll wash, whether you strip off of no. And you’ll get me out of this before you do.”
Merlin’s fingers are pink with the cold and he works quickly, even though the metal must be painful against his bare skin. He never wears gloves, though Arthur has given him two pair now. When the buckles are free and Arthur is down to tunic, breeches and boots, he steps away, nodding his thanks and taking a deep breath. His chest feels like it’s been released from confinement, his ribs expanding with relief as he inhales.
Merlin hisses as he dips his cloth and scrubs at the back of his neck and behind his ears, dips again and rubs beneath his tunic, up to each armpit, circling over his chest. He glances at Arthur, who smirks at his modesty and lifts his tunic over his head, unashamed. None of the knights fancy him as far as he knows and Merlin has seen him bare-chested more often than anyone alive. He won’t be obvious about his interest, if he does feel any.
It’s an odd situation. They’re closer than brothers, closer than friends. They spend day in and day out together and are expected to behave as servant and master, but never have, not from the beginning. If Arthur’s honest with himself, he has to admit that their relationship is the most intimate of his life. Anything more with Merlin would likely feel as natural as breathing, as natural as it always has been between them.
Still, it’s impossible, even if they both were to wish it, which neither of them is likely to admit. Arthur is the future King and Merlin is... Merlin.
Arthur goes to one knee and scoops up a double-handful of frigid water and splutters into it, swiping at his face and neck, clenching his teeth against a full-body shiver as he splashes his chest and under each arm. He laughs as the knights make high-pitched protests and rush through the chore.
When he turns back to Merlin, Merlin is watching him, his soft smile disappearing as he bites his lips and looks away.
Arthur goes to him, offers him a hand up, which Merlin takes. Their chilled hands lock together and Arthur doesn’t let go, holding tight until Merlin looks him in the eye. “I think I can sleep with you now.”
By the time Arthur realizes what he said, it’s too late.
Merlin’s blush is furiously pink and spreads under the collar of his tunic and up over his ears. He looks from Arthur to Gwaine and sighs heavily, knowing what’s coming.
“It’s about damned time, eh boys?” Gwaine mutters, just loudly enough for everyone to hear, of course.
Everyone laughs, but Merlin drops the hauberk on Arthur’s foot and then can’t seem to get the buckles to work as he tries to strap it back on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Leave it,” Arthur whispers, but Merlin shakes his head.
“Patience,” he says, taking a deep breath and trying again. “I’ll get it.”
Just Listening - Gwaine/Lancelot (NC17)
Shifting in his saddle, Lancelot closes his eyes and savours the ache in his arse and the pressure of his laces against his swollen cock. He takes a steadying breath and turns his head, looking over his shoulder at Gwaine, who winks at him.
He knows the knights have guessed what happened between them, that they heard the two of them making love the night before.
Making love, not just fucking, though they’d apparently been noisy enough, either way.
It was different to what Lancelot had expected. He’d imagined Gwaine beneath him and inside him countless times, but until it was happening, he’d never known how all-consuming being with Gwaine would be.
He’d expected it to hurt more than it had, expected Gwaine to be just as impulsive and impatient in bed as he was in all other things. But Gwaine had seemed to think of nothing but Lancelot as they’d lain together. There had been eagerness, undoubtedly, but not urgency.
And Gods, the passion. The strength of Gwaine’s body warring with Lancelot’s own. No, not warring. They’d surged together, moving counterpoint to one another, but not warring. One couldn’t war with oneself.
That was how it had felt: the two of them becoming one.
Lancelot straightened his legs a bit, pressing into his stirrups and stretching his legs. His entire body thrummed with an undercurrent of need he couldn’t quash.
As they rode, the lack of conversation testimony to the late night most of them had had, Gwaine pulled his horse up to ride beside Lancelot. Their legs brushed together, he was so close.
“We’ll make camp early tonight,” Gwaine said softly, looking at the storm clouds looming overhead. “Merlin has a spell he’s going to try.”
Lancelot looked ahead to where Merlin and Arthur rode together, as close as he and Gwaine, Merlin leaning over to say something, Arthur smirking in return. They looked as content as Lancelot felt, despite the stirrings throughout his body.
“Alright?” Gwaine asked, laying his hand on Lancelot’s thigh, then at the small of his back, a reassuring, steady touch.
“Just a bit restless,” Lancelot answered, swallowing down the urge to dismount and pull Gwaine against him.
Gwaine smiled knowingly and raked his fingers along the edge of Lancelot’s waistband. “Not long now and we’ll be alone,” he whispered.
Lancelot nodded, returning the smile, only barely refraining from rocking his stiff cock against the pommel of his saddle. The hard leather between his thighs and the steady up and back of the horse’s gait did nothing to help. “What’s the spell?” he asked, reaching for distraction, his voice breaking tellingly.
Gwaine raised his eyebrows and let his hand fall away, shifting in his own saddle as well. He cleared his throat, obviously gathering his wits about him. “A dome of silence for the tents,” he answered, “sound passes in but not out. Arthur thinks it dangerous, but Merlin told him an exhausted patrol was a greater risk. No denying we’re all a bit sluggish today.”
Lancelot stared ahead as Gwaine spoke, unable even to look at him without his arousal flexing against his laces. He pushed forward a bit, hoping if he gave in just this much, the relief of pressing against the hard leather of the saddle would be enough to stave off his arousal.
“Sod it,” Gwaine whispered under his breath. “We’ll catch you up!” he called, jerking his head in the direction of the woods.
Arthur turned to look at them and Lancelot thought he might object, but Merlin grabbed his jacket sleeve and shook his head, and Arthur just waved them on.
They dismounted swiftly, Gwaine tying their horses to a tree and practically dragging Lancelot by the wrist, as if he needed the encouragement, deeper into the thick cover of the woods. Thunder boomed across the sky, the rumble of it penetrating clear through Lancelot’s chest. He stopped and pulled Gwaine to him, unwilling to wait another second.
“Here,” he whispered against Gwaine’s lips, fingers scrambling on their laces as Gwaine’s hand closed on the back of his neck, strong and sure. Lancelot gasped as their cocks fell free, brushing together.
Gwaine’s fingers fisted his hair, pulling down on top of him as he sank fluidly to the ground.
Lancelot pressed him to the fallen leaves, their cocks trapped tightly between them. They began a fast, hard grind, their boots digging into the dirt for leverage as they thrust.
“Wait,” Gwaine whispered, tilting his chin up as Lancelot bit and sucked along his jaw, moaning in protest. Gwaine chuckled and lifted his thigh between Lancelot’s legs, the hardness against his arse making him whimper embarrassingly loud.
“Please,” Lancelot gasped out, pushing up on his palms, rubbing his arse against Gwaine’s upraised thigh and throwing his head back, his eyes squeezed closed.
“Just,” Gwaine breathed, fingers slipping into Lancelot’s hair, the touch so soft and gentle, so stark against the frantic motion of their bodies grinding together. “Just listen to me,” he whispered, eyes holding his gaze when Lancelot looked down at him.
Lancelot stilled the rocking of his hips, panting as his cock leaked and flexed against Gwaine’s. He moaned and shivered with the effort to hold still. “I’m listening,” he breathed, summoning patience and control.
“We’re more than this,” Gwaine said softly, though his tone was sure and strong. “You know that we’re more than just... this.”
Their bare cocks slipped together as Gwaine shifted beneath him on the forest floor. Lancelot smiled at the irony of Gwaine’s timing, falling a bit harder for Gwaine and his unique brand of honour.
“I know,” Lancelot answered, though it hadn’t been a question.
It never had been, for either of them.
While I Stay (Arthur/Merlin NC17)
Lying on his back, Arthur stared up at Merlin, watching closely for any sign of pain, for any sign he should stop or slow.
Merlin looked sated already, his eyes closed and head tilted back, his slow, deep breaths hitching at the top of each inhalation. Arthur pushed his fingers deep inside, seeking the mound of nerves he’d heard rumours about. He hadn’t asked Merlin to tell him if he found it, but he knew for sure as he rubbed gently back and forth over a certain area. Merlin’s thighs tensed against him and his moans filled the room.
“That’s it,” Merlin breathed, rocking back onto Arthur’s hand. “Just a little more,” he begged, back arching as Arthur pushed deeper.
He twisted his fingers against the swell inside, circling and rubbing, pressing hard and teasing it with long, slow strokes over it, in and out.
Merlin moved into every new touch, whispering encouragement. “Gods, you feel amazing,” he breathed out, hips writhing on Arthur’s stomach, fingers clawing at his shoulders.
“Merlin,” he whispered, his cock leaking where it touched his wrist as he worked Merlin open.
“Now,” Merlin gasped, arse sliding silkily over Arthur’s cock as he scooted back. “Oh, Gods, now, please.
Arthur surged up, hand on the back of Merlin’s head to hold him still as he reached down and fitted his cock into place. “Look at me,” he said softly, pulse quickening as Merlin obeyed, eyes locking onto his.
They widened, bright with pain as Arthur spread him open, pushing slowly, resolutely inside, as gently as he could. He held still just inside, breathing hard, his cockhead seated just beyond the clenched ring of muscle.
He could come like this, just being held so tightly in the hot, slick sheath of Merlin’s body.
Merlin shifted and they both sucked in a breath as Arthur’s cock slipped deeper with the movement.
Shaking with the effort not to thrust, not to take Merlin hard and fast, he dug his fingers into the flesh of Merlin’s hips, holding him still.
Merlin whimpered, the sound cutting through the indescribable pleasure and making Arthur remember that Merlin had the difficult position of being taken, that he was likely hurting.
“Shhh,” Arthur whispered, pushing his arse into the bed and slipping all the way out, his fingers rubbing down over the swollen, clenching opening. “We’ll wait. It’s alright,” he soothed, urging Merlin’s face down for a kiss.
“No, that’s not-” Merlin said, pulling away and guiding Arthur’s arousal back up to his body. “You felt wonderful. And it only gets better, I swear. Keep going.”
Arthur had known it would hurt Merlin, Gods, how could it not? But Merlin had said the pain was part of the pleasure, that it made it sweeter somehow.
“You’ll understand when I...,” Merlin trailed off, pushing his palms against Arthur’s shoulders as he rocked back, taking Arthur into him again, sinking slowly further and further onto Arthur’s cock.
It was the tightest, hottest, softest thing he had ever felt, the cling of Merlin’s body around his narrowing his world to Merlin’s smooth, strong body against his, the gentle breeze over their sweat-damp skin, the streak of sunlight filtering in between the curtains and slicing a pale streak across Merlin’s chest as he sat up.
Arthur gasped, muscles tense, toes flexing into the cool sheets as Merlin rocked up and back, each movement pulling Arthur deeper inside of him.
Merlin threw his head back, moaning and raking his nails softly down Arthur’s chest as his weight pressed Arthur’s hips to the mattress, slipping another degree further down.
Their moans were low and harsh, breath ragged as Merlin lay down on him and Arthur thrust up, chasing the pleasure. Merlin rolled his hips, moaning against Arthur’s throat.
Arthur squeezed his arse, his back, his shoulders, hands cupping Merlin’s face as he kissed him, tongue pushing in deep as he thrust again and again, counterpoint to the gentle rocking of Merlin’s body on his.
He let Merlin set the pace, grateful for the dizzying pleasure of just being inside him. Gods, it was glorious, gorgeous, his need amplified by the depth and tightness, by Merlin’s uninhibited moans, by the way Merlin moved over him and on him, as though he couldn’t get enough of Arthur, either.
Merlin’s arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he quickened the cadence of his hips, his breath going ragged and then stopping altogether as he jerked in Arthur’s arms, spilling hot and slick between their stomachs, the pulse of his orgasm like a heartbeat around Arthur’s cock.
“Don’t stop,” Merlin pleaded, pushing their bodies together, sheathing him to the hilt and rolling his hips, the deep strokes pulling Arthur’s arousal higher and higher.
He thrust into Merlin, staring into his eyes. Merlin lay heavily over him, skin flushed and panting breath humid against Arthur’s throat.
Arthur held him close, breathed him in, squeezed his eyes closed and let his arousal surge from him, pulsing into Merlin, thrusts hard and sharp, every beat of his orgasm stronger than the next. He held on, arms tight around Merlin’s shoulders as he spent inside his body, the thought of being so deep, so completely inside Merlin making his cock ache even as his orgasm faded.
Merlin pushed up, wincing as his body tilted. Arthur opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, but Merlin kissed him quiet, moaning and smiling against Arthur’s lips as Arthur relaxed and returned the kiss with all of the gratitude and desire that coursed through him.
Letting his hands roam over Merlin’s smooth skin, Arthur pulled back from their kiss. “Stay like this,” He let it slip between them, hoping Merlin would let him, hoping Merlin wanted it as much as he did. “Let me stay inside you.”
“Always,” Merlin breathed, catching Arthur’s hand and lacing their fingers together. He lay down, legs tucking in to press against Arthur’s sides, and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder.
Arthur drifted off and woke to Merlin’s mouth on his in the darkness, their bodies still joined. He rolled Merlin beneath him, hips canting slowly, his arousal flaring through the haze of sleep. Merlin’s breathy laughter was warm against his throat, his kisses slow and sweet.
The Day Before Springes Begins - A/M, PG - for piscaria
The Day After Just Listen - Gwaine/Lancelot, NC17 - for archaeologist_d
The First Time Arthur Takes Merlin in the While I Kiss You verse- A/M, NC17 - for aprileaf
As They Mean to Continue (Arthur/Merlin PG)
“For God’s sake, Merlin, if you can’t keep up, stay at home and sew things with Morgana!”
Merlin just grins infuriatingly, hefting the quiver of bolts and quickening his pace only a fraction. Arthur waits for him, crouched on the frozen ground, one eye on the Serkit that’s rapidly moving out of range.
“I’m going to be sewing tonight anyway,” Merlin mumbles, reaching to finger the sleeve of Arthur’s tunic. Just as Arthur moves to jerk his arm away, Merlin lets his hand fall. “Your aim is off and we’re losing the light.”
“Thank you for pointing out the obvious, Merlin. What would I do without you?” Arthur snaps, snatching away the bolt and loading the crossbow, though he knows the Serkit is long gone - again.
“Perhaps we should break for supper,” Merlin whispers, looking pointedly back at the knights, who are a weary, ragtag group. None of them will be felling a Serkit whilst starving in the freezing dark and, clumsiness aside, Merlin’s usefulness proves out once again. Arthur would chase the thing into oblivion without once looking around himself, but Merlin always has one eye on everyone’s welfare. It’s why Arthur brought him along in the first place.
“Supper such as it is,” Arthur answers, nodding but not looking forward to the meal. All they have left in their packs is dried meat and beans. Meagre fare for men on the hunt, but none of them suspected a Serkit could be so elusive. “Percival, Elyan, circle back to the horses and set up camp. We’ll get cleaned up and follow shortly.”
Merlin smiles wide and turns to follow the newest knights, but Arthur halts him with a hand to his shoulder. Merlin is just as bedraggled as the rest of them, more so because he’s not built or trained for the stamina Arthur’s requiring from him. He shakes his head, not for the first time wondering how he ended up with a manservant like Merlin.
Before he can do more than draw a breath, he remembers. Merlin saved his life. Merlin threw himself in front of a blade without hesitation, seemingly willing to die to save Arthur.
He tightens his grip on Merlin’s shoulder and gives him a friendly shake. “Come on, Merlin. These buckles won’t unfasten themselves.”
Merlin’s grin broadens impossibly wider and then settles a bit as the knights walk on ahead of them. It still reaches his eyes, though, and Merlin’s hand clasps his forearm. “I’m sure you could manage without me...” Merlin purses his lips and looks sideways, then back, shaking his head. “Nahhh,” he says, laughing as he walks on after the knights, grinning back over his shoulder before dropping his pack and making a run for it.
“Oh, now you’re not complaining!” Arthur yells as he chases after him, dodging in and out of trees, weaving between the knights as Merlin tries to use them for cover. Arthur’s hauberk is clacking noisily, his red cloak snagging until he reaches up and yanks the ties, letting it fly away behind him. They half-slide, half-scurry down the bank of a frozen-over stream, Merlin’s boot slipping along the cover of dead leaves and through the sheet of ice into the water.
“Fuck!” Shaking his foot, Merlin leaps to the other side of the stream, then falls to his backside, laughing and panting for breath. “You can’t expect us to wash in that. It’s ice!”
Arthur raises his eyebrows and crouches down, punching through the thin crust, gesturing at the water that comes seeping over the edges of the hole he’s made. “There you go, Merlin. Water.”
Merlin scoffs and throws a pinecone at the stream, missing the hole. “I’ll pass.”
“Then you’ll sleep in the open tonight,” Arthur says casually, as if he won’t miss Merlin’s body heat next to him in the cold air of their tent.
“Fine, but I’m not stripping off,” Merlin grouses, cheeks heating as the knights crunch down the bank, Gwaine’s teasing smile planted across his face.
“Aw, Merlin, it’s the only reason we agreed to this ludicrous idea,” Gwaine jokes, kicking at the ice until it splits beneath his bootheel. “Come on, we’ll do it at the same time,” he says, hands on the hem of his tunic.
“No way! You couldn’t pay me enough!”
Arthur crosses to his side of the stream, Merlin craning his neck curiously when Arthur steps behind him, untying his neckerchief and pushing it into Merlin’s chest. “You’ll wash, whether you strip off of no. And you’ll get me out of this before you do.”
Merlin’s fingers are pink with the cold and he works quickly, even though the metal must be painful against his bare skin. He never wears gloves, though Arthur has given him two pair now. When the buckles are free and Arthur is down to tunic, breeches and boots, he steps away, nodding his thanks and taking a deep breath. His chest feels like it’s been released from confinement, his ribs expanding with relief as he inhales.
Merlin hisses as he dips his cloth and scrubs at the back of his neck and behind his ears, dips again and rubs beneath his tunic, up to each armpit, circling over his chest. He glances at Arthur, who smirks at his modesty and lifts his tunic over his head, unashamed. None of the knights fancy him as far as he knows and Merlin has seen him bare-chested more often than anyone alive. He won’t be obvious about his interest, if he does feel any.
It’s an odd situation. They’re closer than brothers, closer than friends. They spend day in and day out together and are expected to behave as servant and master, but never have, not from the beginning. If Arthur’s honest with himself, he has to admit that their relationship is the most intimate of his life. Anything more with Merlin would likely feel as natural as breathing, as natural as it always has been between them.
Still, it’s impossible, even if they both were to wish it, which neither of them is likely to admit. Arthur is the future King and Merlin is... Merlin.
Arthur goes to one knee and scoops up a double-handful of frigid water and splutters into it, swiping at his face and neck, clenching his teeth against a full-body shiver as he splashes his chest and under each arm. He laughs as the knights make high-pitched protests and rush through the chore.
When he turns back to Merlin, Merlin is watching him, his soft smile disappearing as he bites his lips and looks away.
Arthur goes to him, offers him a hand up, which Merlin takes. Their chilled hands lock together and Arthur doesn’t let go, holding tight until Merlin looks him in the eye. “I think I can sleep with you now.”
By the time Arthur realizes what he said, it’s too late.
Merlin’s blush is furiously pink and spreads under the collar of his tunic and up over his ears. He looks from Arthur to Gwaine and sighs heavily, knowing what’s coming.
“It’s about damned time, eh boys?” Gwaine mutters, just loudly enough for everyone to hear, of course.
Everyone laughs, but Merlin drops the hauberk on Arthur’s foot and then can’t seem to get the buckles to work as he tries to strap it back on Arthur’s shoulders.
“Leave it,” Arthur whispers, but Merlin shakes his head.
“Patience,” he says, taking a deep breath and trying again. “I’ll get it.”
Just Listening - Gwaine/Lancelot (NC17)
Shifting in his saddle, Lancelot closes his eyes and savours the ache in his arse and the pressure of his laces against his swollen cock. He takes a steadying breath and turns his head, looking over his shoulder at Gwaine, who winks at him.
He knows the knights have guessed what happened between them, that they heard the two of them making love the night before.
Making love, not just fucking, though they’d apparently been noisy enough, either way.
It was different to what Lancelot had expected. He’d imagined Gwaine beneath him and inside him countless times, but until it was happening, he’d never known how all-consuming being with Gwaine would be.
He’d expected it to hurt more than it had, expected Gwaine to be just as impulsive and impatient in bed as he was in all other things. But Gwaine had seemed to think of nothing but Lancelot as they’d lain together. There had been eagerness, undoubtedly, but not urgency.
And Gods, the passion. The strength of Gwaine’s body warring with Lancelot’s own. No, not warring. They’d surged together, moving counterpoint to one another, but not warring. One couldn’t war with oneself.
That was how it had felt: the two of them becoming one.
Lancelot straightened his legs a bit, pressing into his stirrups and stretching his legs. His entire body thrummed with an undercurrent of need he couldn’t quash.
As they rode, the lack of conversation testimony to the late night most of them had had, Gwaine pulled his horse up to ride beside Lancelot. Their legs brushed together, he was so close.
“We’ll make camp early tonight,” Gwaine said softly, looking at the storm clouds looming overhead. “Merlin has a spell he’s going to try.”
Lancelot looked ahead to where Merlin and Arthur rode together, as close as he and Gwaine, Merlin leaning over to say something, Arthur smirking in return. They looked as content as Lancelot felt, despite the stirrings throughout his body.
“Alright?” Gwaine asked, laying his hand on Lancelot’s thigh, then at the small of his back, a reassuring, steady touch.
“Just a bit restless,” Lancelot answered, swallowing down the urge to dismount and pull Gwaine against him.
Gwaine smiled knowingly and raked his fingers along the edge of Lancelot’s waistband. “Not long now and we’ll be alone,” he whispered.
Lancelot nodded, returning the smile, only barely refraining from rocking his stiff cock against the pommel of his saddle. The hard leather between his thighs and the steady up and back of the horse’s gait did nothing to help. “What’s the spell?” he asked, reaching for distraction, his voice breaking tellingly.
Gwaine raised his eyebrows and let his hand fall away, shifting in his own saddle as well. He cleared his throat, obviously gathering his wits about him. “A dome of silence for the tents,” he answered, “sound passes in but not out. Arthur thinks it dangerous, but Merlin told him an exhausted patrol was a greater risk. No denying we’re all a bit sluggish today.”
Lancelot stared ahead as Gwaine spoke, unable even to look at him without his arousal flexing against his laces. He pushed forward a bit, hoping if he gave in just this much, the relief of pressing against the hard leather of the saddle would be enough to stave off his arousal.
“Sod it,” Gwaine whispered under his breath. “We’ll catch you up!” he called, jerking his head in the direction of the woods.
Arthur turned to look at them and Lancelot thought he might object, but Merlin grabbed his jacket sleeve and shook his head, and Arthur just waved them on.
They dismounted swiftly, Gwaine tying their horses to a tree and practically dragging Lancelot by the wrist, as if he needed the encouragement, deeper into the thick cover of the woods. Thunder boomed across the sky, the rumble of it penetrating clear through Lancelot’s chest. He stopped and pulled Gwaine to him, unwilling to wait another second.
“Here,” he whispered against Gwaine’s lips, fingers scrambling on their laces as Gwaine’s hand closed on the back of his neck, strong and sure. Lancelot gasped as their cocks fell free, brushing together.
Gwaine’s fingers fisted his hair, pulling down on top of him as he sank fluidly to the ground.
Lancelot pressed him to the fallen leaves, their cocks trapped tightly between them. They began a fast, hard grind, their boots digging into the dirt for leverage as they thrust.
“Wait,” Gwaine whispered, tilting his chin up as Lancelot bit and sucked along his jaw, moaning in protest. Gwaine chuckled and lifted his thigh between Lancelot’s legs, the hardness against his arse making him whimper embarrassingly loud.
“Please,” Lancelot gasped out, pushing up on his palms, rubbing his arse against Gwaine’s upraised thigh and throwing his head back, his eyes squeezed closed.
“Just,” Gwaine breathed, fingers slipping into Lancelot’s hair, the touch so soft and gentle, so stark against the frantic motion of their bodies grinding together. “Just listen to me,” he whispered, eyes holding his gaze when Lancelot looked down at him.
Lancelot stilled the rocking of his hips, panting as his cock leaked and flexed against Gwaine’s. He moaned and shivered with the effort to hold still. “I’m listening,” he breathed, summoning patience and control.
“We’re more than this,” Gwaine said softly, though his tone was sure and strong. “You know that we’re more than just... this.”
Their bare cocks slipped together as Gwaine shifted beneath him on the forest floor. Lancelot smiled at the irony of Gwaine’s timing, falling a bit harder for Gwaine and his unique brand of honour.
“I know,” Lancelot answered, though it hadn’t been a question.
It never had been, for either of them.
While I Stay (Arthur/Merlin NC17)
Lying on his back, Arthur stared up at Merlin, watching closely for any sign of pain, for any sign he should stop or slow.
Merlin looked sated already, his eyes closed and head tilted back, his slow, deep breaths hitching at the top of each inhalation. Arthur pushed his fingers deep inside, seeking the mound of nerves he’d heard rumours about. He hadn’t asked Merlin to tell him if he found it, but he knew for sure as he rubbed gently back and forth over a certain area. Merlin’s thighs tensed against him and his moans filled the room.
“That’s it,” Merlin breathed, rocking back onto Arthur’s hand. “Just a little more,” he begged, back arching as Arthur pushed deeper.
He twisted his fingers against the swell inside, circling and rubbing, pressing hard and teasing it with long, slow strokes over it, in and out.
Merlin moved into every new touch, whispering encouragement. “Gods, you feel amazing,” he breathed out, hips writhing on Arthur’s stomach, fingers clawing at his shoulders.
“Merlin,” he whispered, his cock leaking where it touched his wrist as he worked Merlin open.
“Now,” Merlin gasped, arse sliding silkily over Arthur’s cock as he scooted back. “Oh, Gods, now, please.
Arthur surged up, hand on the back of Merlin’s head to hold him still as he reached down and fitted his cock into place. “Look at me,” he said softly, pulse quickening as Merlin obeyed, eyes locking onto his.
They widened, bright with pain as Arthur spread him open, pushing slowly, resolutely inside, as gently as he could. He held still just inside, breathing hard, his cockhead seated just beyond the clenched ring of muscle.
He could come like this, just being held so tightly in the hot, slick sheath of Merlin’s body.
Merlin shifted and they both sucked in a breath as Arthur’s cock slipped deeper with the movement.
Shaking with the effort not to thrust, not to take Merlin hard and fast, he dug his fingers into the flesh of Merlin’s hips, holding him still.
Merlin whimpered, the sound cutting through the indescribable pleasure and making Arthur remember that Merlin had the difficult position of being taken, that he was likely hurting.
“Shhh,” Arthur whispered, pushing his arse into the bed and slipping all the way out, his fingers rubbing down over the swollen, clenching opening. “We’ll wait. It’s alright,” he soothed, urging Merlin’s face down for a kiss.
“No, that’s not-” Merlin said, pulling away and guiding Arthur’s arousal back up to his body. “You felt wonderful. And it only gets better, I swear. Keep going.”
Arthur had known it would hurt Merlin, Gods, how could it not? But Merlin had said the pain was part of the pleasure, that it made it sweeter somehow.
“You’ll understand when I...,” Merlin trailed off, pushing his palms against Arthur’s shoulders as he rocked back, taking Arthur into him again, sinking slowly further and further onto Arthur’s cock.
It was the tightest, hottest, softest thing he had ever felt, the cling of Merlin’s body around his narrowing his world to Merlin’s smooth, strong body against his, the gentle breeze over their sweat-damp skin, the streak of sunlight filtering in between the curtains and slicing a pale streak across Merlin’s chest as he sat up.
Arthur gasped, muscles tense, toes flexing into the cool sheets as Merlin rocked up and back, each movement pulling Arthur deeper inside of him.
Merlin threw his head back, moaning and raking his nails softly down Arthur’s chest as his weight pressed Arthur’s hips to the mattress, slipping another degree further down.
Their moans were low and harsh, breath ragged as Merlin lay down on him and Arthur thrust up, chasing the pleasure. Merlin rolled his hips, moaning against Arthur’s throat.
Arthur squeezed his arse, his back, his shoulders, hands cupping Merlin’s face as he kissed him, tongue pushing in deep as he thrust again and again, counterpoint to the gentle rocking of Merlin’s body on his.
He let Merlin set the pace, grateful for the dizzying pleasure of just being inside him. Gods, it was glorious, gorgeous, his need amplified by the depth and tightness, by Merlin’s uninhibited moans, by the way Merlin moved over him and on him, as though he couldn’t get enough of Arthur, either.
Merlin’s arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders as he quickened the cadence of his hips, his breath going ragged and then stopping altogether as he jerked in Arthur’s arms, spilling hot and slick between their stomachs, the pulse of his orgasm like a heartbeat around Arthur’s cock.
“Don’t stop,” Merlin pleaded, pushing their bodies together, sheathing him to the hilt and rolling his hips, the deep strokes pulling Arthur’s arousal higher and higher.
He thrust into Merlin, staring into his eyes. Merlin lay heavily over him, skin flushed and panting breath humid against Arthur’s throat.
Arthur held him close, breathed him in, squeezed his eyes closed and let his arousal surge from him, pulsing into Merlin, thrusts hard and sharp, every beat of his orgasm stronger than the next. He held on, arms tight around Merlin’s shoulders as he spent inside his body, the thought of being so deep, so completely inside Merlin making his cock ache even as his orgasm faded.
Merlin pushed up, wincing as his body tilted. Arthur opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, but Merlin kissed him quiet, moaning and smiling against Arthur’s lips as Arthur relaxed and returned the kiss with all of the gratitude and desire that coursed through him.
Letting his hands roam over Merlin’s smooth skin, Arthur pulled back from their kiss. “Stay like this,” He let it slip between them, hoping Merlin would let him, hoping Merlin wanted it as much as he did. “Let me stay inside you.”
“Always,” Merlin breathed, catching Arthur’s hand and lacing their fingers together. He lay down, legs tucking in to press against Arthur’s sides, and rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder.
Arthur drifted off and woke to Merlin’s mouth on his in the darkness, their bodies still joined. He rolled Merlin beneath him, hips canting slowly, his arousal flaring through the haze of sleep. Merlin’s breathy laughter was warm against his throat, his kisses slow and sweet.