Fic: Wrapped Around You
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 3355
Warnings: none; barebacking, anal
Summary: Merlin may not be a knight, but Arthur lends him his cloak, anyway. PWP
Also on my AO3.
Arthur released some of the tension in his shoulders as he stepped out of the tent, leaving Leon to deal with King Nantres. He didn’t bother to remove the gold band (which Merlin called his “travelling crown”) from his head, or the cloak from his shoulders. He might have once, afraid to appear too arrogant, but he’d heard more than one soldier admit that seeing their king in something other than battle clothes-even just a tattered cloak and circlet-made the peace seem more real than anything.
A knight detached himself from the crowd as Arthur made his way through the camp. Arthur recognized Gwaine in the waning light.
“Negotiations over, then, princess?” the knight asked, hand resting casually on his belt. Arthur glared at him.
“Yes, no thanks to you.”
“More important things to do than play politics with kings,” Gwaine replied flippantly. Arthur contemplated the benefits of banishing him (again, and ignoring Gwaine’s unflinching loyalty) before he decided it was too much effort.
“I hope for your sake it was,” he said instead, and then, “Have you seen Merlin?”
He ignored the smirk Gwaine gave him, which said plainly that the knight saw through his dismissive attitude.
“Elyan saw him over by the woods there,” Gwaine answered with a jerk of his head. “I think he’s trying to re-grow the forest.”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he is. Thank you, Gwaine.”
Gwaine gave him a somewhat mocking salute, and Arthur turned to head in the direction he’d indicated. He hadn’t actually seen Merlin for two days, but it wasn’t unusual during battles like this one for that to happen. Merlin had his duties with the sorcerers, Arthur with his men, and it was far more sensible to send messengers rather than have one of them leave their post, no matter how long it’d been. Now, though, Arthur couldn’t help the slight quickening of his steps as he caught sight of Merlin’s troupe of magic users. Merlin was visible almost right away. He was standing with his back to Arthur, hands raised like he was casting. And he was soaked.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, once he was in earshot and Merlin’s arms had fallen. “What are you doing?”
He saw a few of the sorcerers titter as Merlin turned around, raising an eyebrow at his king. “Clearing the damage, sire,” he said slowly, as if this hadn’t been explained to Arthur a hundred times before, “so that the forest-“
“-can regrow, yes, I know,” Arthur finished for him, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I don’t know is why you’re doing it soaked through. With your luck, you’ll catch cold, and Gaius has far too much on his hands right now to deal with you, too.” He paused, and then asked, “How did you manage to get this wet, anyway? The nearest lake is two miles west.”
Merlin glanced down at himself, eyebrows raised as if he’d forgotten about his sodden clothes. “Oh, right. Er, one of Nantres’ sorcerers tried to drown me. I didn’t quite manage to block him in time.”
Arthur cast his eyes skyward as if asking for patience. “You idiot,” he sighed, and began to pull at the clasp of his cloak, “here, take this. We really can’t afford to have you sick.”
The cloak, made to be long and billowy even over full armor, swallowed Merlin’s thinner frame. The clasp hung uselessly against his chest as he gathered the fabric around him. He looked more like a child playing in his father’s clothes than a powerful warlock. He raised his eyebrows at Arthur.
“Satisfied, sire? I can’t very well cast with this flapping around me.”
“You shouldn’t be casting at all,” a third voice countered before Arthur could. They turned to see Helygen, the druid woman who had become Merlin’s second in command. She bowed to Arthur. “Your majesty.” And then, to Merlin, “You know as well as I do that you overtaxed yourself. The king is right, you need your rest. We brought the apprentices for a reason,” she added sternly when Merlin tried to protest. “They need to practice. And it will do no one any good to see you faint in the middle of a spell because you were too stubborn to listen to your own lessons.”
Arthur stifled his grin at the sheepish expression on Merlin’s face as he mumbled his agreement. With one last warning glance, Helygen swept off to scold a group of apprentices, and Merlin turned to Arthur.
“Don’t look so smug,” he grumbled, “it makes you look like more of a prat than usual.” Arthur snorted and brushed the comment aside.
“The camp will be settling down for the night soon enough. Or at least, the celebrating will be quieter. Go to the tent, Merlin.” He reached out to clasp Merlin on the shoulder, letting his thumb brush against his neck in the process. It was a small gesture, but he knew from Merlin’s fleeting smile it had been accepted.
“Alright,” Merlin sighed, “alright, fine.”
Arthur gave his shoulder one last squeeze before letting his hand fall. He watched Merlin head towards the tents, wanting, for a moment, nothing more than to follow him. But a king had responsibilities.
Straightening his shoulders, Arthur turned towards the physician’s tent.
---
It was much later when Arthur finally stepped into his tent. The distant celebrations of his men dropped to a murmur when the flap closed behind him. There was a plate of food on his table, but Arthur ignored it in favor of staring at his bed.
Merlin was sprawled across the small cot, snoring lightly. Arthur’s cloak was spread on top of him. Arthur felt his mouth go dry. He had always loved seeing Merlin in Camelot red, loved seeing the vivid colour contrast against his skin. Seeing him wrapped tightly in Arthur’s cloak was even better, because it marked Merlin as his, covered his entire, lanky body with Arthur’s scent and Arthur’s warmth when Arthur couldn’t do it himself. Arthur let his eyes travel along the lines of Merlin’s body beneath the cloak. A bare foot poked out from the bottom of it, and one of Merlin’s shoulders practically gleamed white against the cloak’s red. One of his hands was fisted atop the gold Camelot dragon, crushing it against his chest.
He wanted to trace that pale skin and see how much of it had been marked with new scars for Arthur to kiss.
He took a step forward before he’d even realized it, and then he was crouched beside the cot, brushing the fringe out of Merlin’s eyes. Merlin stirred, eyes blinking open slowly, and he gave a sleepy smile when he recognized Arthur.
“I see you decided to follow an order, after all,” Arthur teased, one hand still in Merlin’s hair. It had dried somewhat fuzzily, one side plastered to his head from the pillow. That, combined with his bleary, blinking eyes gave him the impression of a disgruntled owl.
“Don’t get used to it,” Merlin yawned. The cloak fell further down his chest. “I don’t need special treatment, Arthur.”
“You don’t get special treatment,” Arthur protested. “You are the most powerful warlock we have; most powerful warlock, period.” He leaned in to press a kiss against Merlin’s lips. “You are treated only as your station dictates you should be, my lord.”
“Shut up,” Merlin sighed, letting one hand snake out to curl around Arthur’s neck. Arthur chuckled.
“Now there’s an idea.”
He kissed him again, letting his tongue flick out to coax Merlin’s mouth open. They kept it moderately chaste, just exploring after a few days apart, until Arthur’s hand wandered down to grip Merlin’s hip, and Merlin let out a sigh against Arthur’s lips. He whined a little when Arthur pulled away.
“Help me with my armor,” Arthur murmured, pushing himself into a standing position before Merlin could reply. He stood there, hand on hip, eyebrow raised as Merlin blinked up at him.
“Well?”
Merlin continued to stare at him for a moment. Arthur had just enough time to think that maybe Merlin was too tired before a slow, mischievous smile spread across the warlock’s face.
“Yes, sire,” Merlin demurred, allowing the cloak to fall away. Arthur watched as the retreating fabric exposed Merlin’s bare chest, his belly, and then, to Arthur surprise, his long, wiry legs. He raised his eyebrows.
“Merlin,” he began, voice impressively level, “is there any particular reason you’re not wearing any clothes?”
Merlin smiled, entirely shameless.
“Well, you said it yourself,” he said, the picture of false innocence. “My clothes really were far too wet.”
Arthur snorted, too busy drinking in the sight in front of him to make a better response. His eyes scanned every inch of milky skin bared for him, cataloguing each new mark to ask about later and daydreaming about running his hands over Merlin’s body. His own cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of Merlin’s, already half-hard between his thighs. There was something intensely erotic about being fully clothed in front of his naked lover. While Arthur watched, Merlin moved forward, casually, as if he wasn’t standing half-aroused in front of his king, to press himself along Arthur’s front. He shivered when his bare skin touched the metal of Arthur’s armor.
“Liking what you see?” he asked. He kissed whatever reply Arthur was going to make out of his mind. Arthur kissed back hungrily, his hands sneaking back to grope Merlin’s arse. Merlin made soft noises of pleasure at his touch.
“Arthur,” he sighed, and the quick flash of gold was all the warning Arthur had before invisible hands plucked at the buckles of his armor. Merlin’s eyes were dark as he watched Arthur’s body become exposed to him, his magic’s touch eager as it caressed Arthur’s muscles. Arthur allowed himself to be petted, until his gambeson was tugged off, and Merlin was back in his arms. They held each other as they kissed, chest-to-chest and groin-to-groin, letting the passion build slowly as they reacquainted themselves with the way their bodies fit together. Merlin rolled their hips together lazily, drinking in the soft moan Arthur let escape. He made his own encouraging noises when Arthur’s hands began to wander downwards.
“God, I missed you,” Merlin huffed between kisses when Arthur tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging lightly. Arthur said nothing, just letting his body do the talking for him. Merlin didn’t seem to mind his silence, judging by the hard grip of his fingers around Arthur’s biceps. He whimpered softly at the hint of nails dragging along his spine, pushing his full erection against Arthur’s.
“Shit,” Arthur swore, wrapping his arms around Merlin tightly, and the sorcerer gasped. Arthur shoved his tongue into his open mouth, receiving a pleased groan in response.
He met Arthur thrust for thrust, but it wasn’t enough for either of them, until finally Merlin pulled away enough to gasp, “Arthur, god, fuck me.”
Arthur was all too willing to comply. He glanced around the tent to consider their options. The cot, he knew from experience, was too narrow and too fragile to handle both of them. The table was wide enough, but he wasn’t sure it would hold up to their weight. Merlin pressed up against him, making needy sounds that made it very hard for Arthur to concentrate. He kissed Merlin again, manhandling him down to the ground while he groped for something to cushion their knees. His fingers brushed some sort of fabric and tugged until it fell to the floor with them. When he looked, he recognized the deep red of his cloak. Merlin moaned and pressed sloppy kisses against Arthur’s jaw.
“Kneel on this,” Arthur ordered, spreading the cloak out in front of them. Merlin hurried to obey. Once he was settled on his hands and knees, Arthur moved in behind him, mouth watering at the sight of Merlin’s arse being offered up to him. He put a hand on either side, kneading the flesh while he peppered kisses along Merlin’s spine.
Merlin keened and wriggled his hips. Arthur grinned against the small of his back.
“So impatient,” he tutted, fully expecting the glare Merlin shot over his shoulder.
“Ass,” Merlin grumbled. “Shut up and fuck me already, or I’ll go find Gwaine to do it instead.”
“You wouldn’t,” Arthur growled. He scowled when Merlin only smirked, and sunk his teeth into the curve of Merlin’s ass. Merlin jerked, and Arthur used the opportunity to slide a finger down to Merlin’s hole. He sucked in a breath when he found it already slick with oil, the ring of muscle swallowing his first finger easily. He looked up and saw Merlin grinning back at him, eyes gleaming with the success of having taken Arthur by surprise.
“Hussy,” Arthur hissed, letting a second finger join the first. Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed. “Did you do this? Did you sit in my bed, wearing my cloak while you opened yourself for me? Did you imagine my hands? Or Gwaine’s?” Merlin whimpered something unintelligible. “Well, Merlin?”
He curled his fingers inside Merlin, pumping them in twice and making Merlin gasp.
“It was you,” Merlin panted, “I did it for you, Arthur, fuck.”
“I thought so.”
There wasn’t quite enough oil for Arthur to add more fingers, but Merlin bore it, anyway. Arthur stroked his cock in reward. A long moan wrenched its way from Merlin’s throat, and it took the sudden appearance of the oil in Merlin’s waiting hand for Arthur to realize he’d been casting a spell. He accepted the vial when Merlin shoved it at him, pulling his fingers from Merlin’s hole to slick up his erection.
When he was ready, he gripped his cock at the base and shuffled until the head lined up with Merlin’s entrance. Merlin gasped when he pushed in, chin tucked to his chest. Arthur leaned down to lick and nuzzle at his neck as he eased himself inside. Merlin’s nostrils were flared, his eyes squeezed shut. When Arthur’s hips pressed against him fully, he let out a shallow breath. His erection had flagged and Arthur reached around to pull at it, careful to keep his hips still.
Finally, Merlin began rocking back against Arthur, fully hard again, and opened his eyes.
“Move,” he breathed, and Arthur did.
He pulled back, eyes glued to Merlin’s hole as it stretched around his cock, before abruptly thrusting back in. Merlin gasped as if the air had been punched from him.
“Fuck,” Arthur grunted, doing it again. Merlin’s head dropped with a moan, forcing his hips back on Arthur’s cock.
“Harder, Arthur, don’t tease,” he panted, sounding so wrecked already that Arthur complied without thinking. He held Merlin’s hips tightly while he fucked him with tight, fast thrusts. He could feel Merlin straining against him, trying to get Arthur even deeper, but he held firm. Merlin mewled, and when Arthur looked down he saw Merlin’s hands clawing at the cloak beneath them, scrabbling for purchase. His fingers stood out pale against the fabric, going taut with every hard thrust.
A breathy moan brought Arthur’s attention back to Merlin himself. He ran his hand over Merlin’s side soothingly, the gentle touch at odds with the movement of his hips. Merlin was having none of it, though. He arched his back as Arthur thrust into him again, the loud slap of Arthur’s balls on Merlin’s skin making them both moan.
“Yes,” Merlin sighed, eyes closed, “Oh, yes, yes…come on, Arthur, I can take it. Please.”
“Merlin,” Arthur grunted, and let go. He hauled Merlin up into a kneeling position, keeping his arm across Merlin’s chest. Merlin threw his head back and keened at the new angle. He reached back to grip something, anything, and wound up with his fingers tangling in Arthur’s hair. Growling, he used his grip to pull Arthur into a desperate, open-mouthed kiss. Arthur reached around him, and Merlin shook when one of Arthur’s hands found his swollen, neglected cock, the other playing with his nipples.
“F-fuck, Arthur…”
“Shh,” Arthur soothed him, covering Merlin’s mouth with his own. He was so close now, his balls tight against his body, the coiled tension building in his belly until he thought he might explode. Merlin wasn’t helping, making helpless noises and murmuring, “Arthur…fuck, Arthur…” over and over again against his lips. His cock was hot in Arthur’s fist, slippery with precome, but Arthur was too far gone to manage anything other than haphazard strokes.
He pressed his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder, grunting, “Fuck, fuck, Merlin, I need to-“ and then he was coming hard. Merlin moaned and pressed desperately against Arthur. He was still rock-hard in Arthur’s hand, but Arthur was too out of it to do anything about it for the moment.
“Arthur,” Merlin groaned as Arthur shakily picked his head up. “Arthur-“
He rammed their mouths together. Arthur pulled himself together long enough to stroke Merlin further towards his climax, leaning in to murmur hotly against his ear.
“God, Merlin, look at you. So full and desperate for more.” Merlin moaned and bucked against Arthur’s hold. “Come on, let me see you come.”
He squeezed Merlin’s cock, which made Merlin gasp again. His eyes were lidded and glassy when he turned as much as he could in Arthur’s arms. They had hardly managed more than a brief clashing of teeth before Merlin stiffened and spilled all over Arthur’s hand, strings of come falling onto the cloak. Arthur stared at it as he milked Merlin dry, riveted by the contrast of white on red, until Merlin whimpered again, this time in discomfort.
Without a word, Arthur released his cock, but kept his arms around Merlin as he manhandled him onto the ground. Merlin seemed happy enough with the arrangement, leaving lazy, messy kisses against the side of Arthur’s neck while their breathing evened. Arthur let his eyes close, enjoying the closeness of just lying there in silence after so many days surrounded by his men and the sounds of battle.
A moment later, he felt Merlin shift in his arms, as if he was preparing to slip away. He tightened his grip and opened his eyes to frown at him.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a cloth,” Merlin answered, the unsaid ‘you prat’ ringing clear in his voice. “I’m filthy.”
“Mmm,” Arthur agreed, pulling until Merlin gave in and snuggled back against him. “I rather thought you could do that without getting up.”
Merlin blinked at him, as if he’d forgotten that he had magic, before his eyes glowed gold. Arthur smirked.
“Idiot.”
“Lazy arse,” Merlin shot back, but he returned Arthur’s kiss, anyway.
“It’s not my fault you’re shit at resting, Merlin,” Arthur retorted smugly.
“What-you are not blaming this on me,” Merlin objected indignantly. “You were just as eager a moment ago.”
“Really?” Arthur purred, rolling over to pin Merlin beneath him. Once against he was struck by the contrast of Merlin’s white skin against the red cloak. Even the flush that lingered on his cheeks and chest paled in comparison. Arthur felt a twinge of interest in his cock as he stared down at the image Merlin offered, spread languidly across the cloak, legs parting to allow Arthur to slide between them. The gaze he fixed Arthur with was amused, and sated, but Arthur didn’t miss the flash of desire when he ran his hand down Merlin’s chest, or the way Merlin’s legs had wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer.
Smirking, Arthur leaned down until their lips were nearly touching. “Let’s think. Who was the one lying in my bed, naked, waiting for me?” Merlin glared at him, and didn’t answer. “And who was the one who fingered himself open before I was even here?” Again, silence. Arthur’s smirk grew. “And who,” he continued, lips brushing against Merlin’s, “begged me to fuck him harder?”
“Shut up,” Merlin growled, pulling Arthur down against him for a kiss. Arthur went with a laugh.
There was time for resting when they got back to Camelot.
Word Count: 3355
Warnings: none; barebacking, anal
Summary: Merlin may not be a knight, but Arthur lends him his cloak, anyway. PWP
Also on my AO3.
Arthur released some of the tension in his shoulders as he stepped out of the tent, leaving Leon to deal with King Nantres. He didn’t bother to remove the gold band (which Merlin called his “travelling crown”) from his head, or the cloak from his shoulders. He might have once, afraid to appear too arrogant, but he’d heard more than one soldier admit that seeing their king in something other than battle clothes-even just a tattered cloak and circlet-made the peace seem more real than anything.
A knight detached himself from the crowd as Arthur made his way through the camp. Arthur recognized Gwaine in the waning light.
“Negotiations over, then, princess?” the knight asked, hand resting casually on his belt. Arthur glared at him.
“Yes, no thanks to you.”
“More important things to do than play politics with kings,” Gwaine replied flippantly. Arthur contemplated the benefits of banishing him (again, and ignoring Gwaine’s unflinching loyalty) before he decided it was too much effort.
“I hope for your sake it was,” he said instead, and then, “Have you seen Merlin?”
He ignored the smirk Gwaine gave him, which said plainly that the knight saw through his dismissive attitude.
“Elyan saw him over by the woods there,” Gwaine answered with a jerk of his head. “I think he’s trying to re-grow the forest.”
Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he is. Thank you, Gwaine.”
Gwaine gave him a somewhat mocking salute, and Arthur turned to head in the direction he’d indicated. He hadn’t actually seen Merlin for two days, but it wasn’t unusual during battles like this one for that to happen. Merlin had his duties with the sorcerers, Arthur with his men, and it was far more sensible to send messengers rather than have one of them leave their post, no matter how long it’d been. Now, though, Arthur couldn’t help the slight quickening of his steps as he caught sight of Merlin’s troupe of magic users. Merlin was visible almost right away. He was standing with his back to Arthur, hands raised like he was casting. And he was soaked.
“Merlin!” Arthur shouted, once he was in earshot and Merlin’s arms had fallen. “What are you doing?”
He saw a few of the sorcerers titter as Merlin turned around, raising an eyebrow at his king. “Clearing the damage, sire,” he said slowly, as if this hadn’t been explained to Arthur a hundred times before, “so that the forest-“
“-can regrow, yes, I know,” Arthur finished for him, crossing his arms over his chest. “What I don’t know is why you’re doing it soaked through. With your luck, you’ll catch cold, and Gaius has far too much on his hands right now to deal with you, too.” He paused, and then asked, “How did you manage to get this wet, anyway? The nearest lake is two miles west.”
Merlin glanced down at himself, eyebrows raised as if he’d forgotten about his sodden clothes. “Oh, right. Er, one of Nantres’ sorcerers tried to drown me. I didn’t quite manage to block him in time.”
Arthur cast his eyes skyward as if asking for patience. “You idiot,” he sighed, and began to pull at the clasp of his cloak, “here, take this. We really can’t afford to have you sick.”
The cloak, made to be long and billowy even over full armor, swallowed Merlin’s thinner frame. The clasp hung uselessly against his chest as he gathered the fabric around him. He looked more like a child playing in his father’s clothes than a powerful warlock. He raised his eyebrows at Arthur.
“Satisfied, sire? I can’t very well cast with this flapping around me.”
“You shouldn’t be casting at all,” a third voice countered before Arthur could. They turned to see Helygen, the druid woman who had become Merlin’s second in command. She bowed to Arthur. “Your majesty.” And then, to Merlin, “You know as well as I do that you overtaxed yourself. The king is right, you need your rest. We brought the apprentices for a reason,” she added sternly when Merlin tried to protest. “They need to practice. And it will do no one any good to see you faint in the middle of a spell because you were too stubborn to listen to your own lessons.”
Arthur stifled his grin at the sheepish expression on Merlin’s face as he mumbled his agreement. With one last warning glance, Helygen swept off to scold a group of apprentices, and Merlin turned to Arthur.
“Don’t look so smug,” he grumbled, “it makes you look like more of a prat than usual.” Arthur snorted and brushed the comment aside.
“The camp will be settling down for the night soon enough. Or at least, the celebrating will be quieter. Go to the tent, Merlin.” He reached out to clasp Merlin on the shoulder, letting his thumb brush against his neck in the process. It was a small gesture, but he knew from Merlin’s fleeting smile it had been accepted.
“Alright,” Merlin sighed, “alright, fine.”
Arthur gave his shoulder one last squeeze before letting his hand fall. He watched Merlin head towards the tents, wanting, for a moment, nothing more than to follow him. But a king had responsibilities.
Straightening his shoulders, Arthur turned towards the physician’s tent.
---
It was much later when Arthur finally stepped into his tent. The distant celebrations of his men dropped to a murmur when the flap closed behind him. There was a plate of food on his table, but Arthur ignored it in favor of staring at his bed.
Merlin was sprawled across the small cot, snoring lightly. Arthur’s cloak was spread on top of him. Arthur felt his mouth go dry. He had always loved seeing Merlin in Camelot red, loved seeing the vivid colour contrast against his skin. Seeing him wrapped tightly in Arthur’s cloak was even better, because it marked Merlin as his, covered his entire, lanky body with Arthur’s scent and Arthur’s warmth when Arthur couldn’t do it himself. Arthur let his eyes travel along the lines of Merlin’s body beneath the cloak. A bare foot poked out from the bottom of it, and one of Merlin’s shoulders practically gleamed white against the cloak’s red. One of his hands was fisted atop the gold Camelot dragon, crushing it against his chest.
He wanted to trace that pale skin and see how much of it had been marked with new scars for Arthur to kiss.
He took a step forward before he’d even realized it, and then he was crouched beside the cot, brushing the fringe out of Merlin’s eyes. Merlin stirred, eyes blinking open slowly, and he gave a sleepy smile when he recognized Arthur.
“I see you decided to follow an order, after all,” Arthur teased, one hand still in Merlin’s hair. It had dried somewhat fuzzily, one side plastered to his head from the pillow. That, combined with his bleary, blinking eyes gave him the impression of a disgruntled owl.
“Don’t get used to it,” Merlin yawned. The cloak fell further down his chest. “I don’t need special treatment, Arthur.”
“You don’t get special treatment,” Arthur protested. “You are the most powerful warlock we have; most powerful warlock, period.” He leaned in to press a kiss against Merlin’s lips. “You are treated only as your station dictates you should be, my lord.”
“Shut up,” Merlin sighed, letting one hand snake out to curl around Arthur’s neck. Arthur chuckled.
“Now there’s an idea.”
He kissed him again, letting his tongue flick out to coax Merlin’s mouth open. They kept it moderately chaste, just exploring after a few days apart, until Arthur’s hand wandered down to grip Merlin’s hip, and Merlin let out a sigh against Arthur’s lips. He whined a little when Arthur pulled away.
“Help me with my armor,” Arthur murmured, pushing himself into a standing position before Merlin could reply. He stood there, hand on hip, eyebrow raised as Merlin blinked up at him.
“Well?”
Merlin continued to stare at him for a moment. Arthur had just enough time to think that maybe Merlin was too tired before a slow, mischievous smile spread across the warlock’s face.
“Yes, sire,” Merlin demurred, allowing the cloak to fall away. Arthur watched as the retreating fabric exposed Merlin’s bare chest, his belly, and then, to Arthur surprise, his long, wiry legs. He raised his eyebrows.
“Merlin,” he began, voice impressively level, “is there any particular reason you’re not wearing any clothes?”
Merlin smiled, entirely shameless.
“Well, you said it yourself,” he said, the picture of false innocence. “My clothes really were far too wet.”
Arthur snorted, too busy drinking in the sight in front of him to make a better response. His eyes scanned every inch of milky skin bared for him, cataloguing each new mark to ask about later and daydreaming about running his hands over Merlin’s body. His own cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of Merlin’s, already half-hard between his thighs. There was something intensely erotic about being fully clothed in front of his naked lover. While Arthur watched, Merlin moved forward, casually, as if he wasn’t standing half-aroused in front of his king, to press himself along Arthur’s front. He shivered when his bare skin touched the metal of Arthur’s armor.
“Liking what you see?” he asked. He kissed whatever reply Arthur was going to make out of his mind. Arthur kissed back hungrily, his hands sneaking back to grope Merlin’s arse. Merlin made soft noises of pleasure at his touch.
“Arthur,” he sighed, and the quick flash of gold was all the warning Arthur had before invisible hands plucked at the buckles of his armor. Merlin’s eyes were dark as he watched Arthur’s body become exposed to him, his magic’s touch eager as it caressed Arthur’s muscles. Arthur allowed himself to be petted, until his gambeson was tugged off, and Merlin was back in his arms. They held each other as they kissed, chest-to-chest and groin-to-groin, letting the passion build slowly as they reacquainted themselves with the way their bodies fit together. Merlin rolled their hips together lazily, drinking in the soft moan Arthur let escape. He made his own encouraging noises when Arthur’s hands began to wander downwards.
“God, I missed you,” Merlin huffed between kisses when Arthur tangled his fingers in his hair, tugging lightly. Arthur said nothing, just letting his body do the talking for him. Merlin didn’t seem to mind his silence, judging by the hard grip of his fingers around Arthur’s biceps. He whimpered softly at the hint of nails dragging along his spine, pushing his full erection against Arthur’s.
“Shit,” Arthur swore, wrapping his arms around Merlin tightly, and the sorcerer gasped. Arthur shoved his tongue into his open mouth, receiving a pleased groan in response.
He met Arthur thrust for thrust, but it wasn’t enough for either of them, until finally Merlin pulled away enough to gasp, “Arthur, god, fuck me.”
Arthur was all too willing to comply. He glanced around the tent to consider their options. The cot, he knew from experience, was too narrow and too fragile to handle both of them. The table was wide enough, but he wasn’t sure it would hold up to their weight. Merlin pressed up against him, making needy sounds that made it very hard for Arthur to concentrate. He kissed Merlin again, manhandling him down to the ground while he groped for something to cushion their knees. His fingers brushed some sort of fabric and tugged until it fell to the floor with them. When he looked, he recognized the deep red of his cloak. Merlin moaned and pressed sloppy kisses against Arthur’s jaw.
“Kneel on this,” Arthur ordered, spreading the cloak out in front of them. Merlin hurried to obey. Once he was settled on his hands and knees, Arthur moved in behind him, mouth watering at the sight of Merlin’s arse being offered up to him. He put a hand on either side, kneading the flesh while he peppered kisses along Merlin’s spine.
Merlin keened and wriggled his hips. Arthur grinned against the small of his back.
“So impatient,” he tutted, fully expecting the glare Merlin shot over his shoulder.
“Ass,” Merlin grumbled. “Shut up and fuck me already, or I’ll go find Gwaine to do it instead.”
“You wouldn’t,” Arthur growled. He scowled when Merlin only smirked, and sunk his teeth into the curve of Merlin’s ass. Merlin jerked, and Arthur used the opportunity to slide a finger down to Merlin’s hole. He sucked in a breath when he found it already slick with oil, the ring of muscle swallowing his first finger easily. He looked up and saw Merlin grinning back at him, eyes gleaming with the success of having taken Arthur by surprise.
“Hussy,” Arthur hissed, letting a second finger join the first. Merlin’s eyes fluttered closed. “Did you do this? Did you sit in my bed, wearing my cloak while you opened yourself for me? Did you imagine my hands? Or Gwaine’s?” Merlin whimpered something unintelligible. “Well, Merlin?”
He curled his fingers inside Merlin, pumping them in twice and making Merlin gasp.
“It was you,” Merlin panted, “I did it for you, Arthur, fuck.”
“I thought so.”
There wasn’t quite enough oil for Arthur to add more fingers, but Merlin bore it, anyway. Arthur stroked his cock in reward. A long moan wrenched its way from Merlin’s throat, and it took the sudden appearance of the oil in Merlin’s waiting hand for Arthur to realize he’d been casting a spell. He accepted the vial when Merlin shoved it at him, pulling his fingers from Merlin’s hole to slick up his erection.
When he was ready, he gripped his cock at the base and shuffled until the head lined up with Merlin’s entrance. Merlin gasped when he pushed in, chin tucked to his chest. Arthur leaned down to lick and nuzzle at his neck as he eased himself inside. Merlin’s nostrils were flared, his eyes squeezed shut. When Arthur’s hips pressed against him fully, he let out a shallow breath. His erection had flagged and Arthur reached around to pull at it, careful to keep his hips still.
Finally, Merlin began rocking back against Arthur, fully hard again, and opened his eyes.
“Move,” he breathed, and Arthur did.
He pulled back, eyes glued to Merlin’s hole as it stretched around his cock, before abruptly thrusting back in. Merlin gasped as if the air had been punched from him.
“Fuck,” Arthur grunted, doing it again. Merlin’s head dropped with a moan, forcing his hips back on Arthur’s cock.
“Harder, Arthur, don’t tease,” he panted, sounding so wrecked already that Arthur complied without thinking. He held Merlin’s hips tightly while he fucked him with tight, fast thrusts. He could feel Merlin straining against him, trying to get Arthur even deeper, but he held firm. Merlin mewled, and when Arthur looked down he saw Merlin’s hands clawing at the cloak beneath them, scrabbling for purchase. His fingers stood out pale against the fabric, going taut with every hard thrust.
A breathy moan brought Arthur’s attention back to Merlin himself. He ran his hand over Merlin’s side soothingly, the gentle touch at odds with the movement of his hips. Merlin was having none of it, though. He arched his back as Arthur thrust into him again, the loud slap of Arthur’s balls on Merlin’s skin making them both moan.
“Yes,” Merlin sighed, eyes closed, “Oh, yes, yes…come on, Arthur, I can take it. Please.”
“Merlin,” Arthur grunted, and let go. He hauled Merlin up into a kneeling position, keeping his arm across Merlin’s chest. Merlin threw his head back and keened at the new angle. He reached back to grip something, anything, and wound up with his fingers tangling in Arthur’s hair. Growling, he used his grip to pull Arthur into a desperate, open-mouthed kiss. Arthur reached around him, and Merlin shook when one of Arthur’s hands found his swollen, neglected cock, the other playing with his nipples.
“F-fuck, Arthur…”
“Shh,” Arthur soothed him, covering Merlin’s mouth with his own. He was so close now, his balls tight against his body, the coiled tension building in his belly until he thought he might explode. Merlin wasn’t helping, making helpless noises and murmuring, “Arthur…fuck, Arthur…” over and over again against his lips. His cock was hot in Arthur’s fist, slippery with precome, but Arthur was too far gone to manage anything other than haphazard strokes.
He pressed his forehead against Merlin’s shoulder, grunting, “Fuck, fuck, Merlin, I need to-“ and then he was coming hard. Merlin moaned and pressed desperately against Arthur. He was still rock-hard in Arthur’s hand, but Arthur was too out of it to do anything about it for the moment.
“Arthur,” Merlin groaned as Arthur shakily picked his head up. “Arthur-“
He rammed their mouths together. Arthur pulled himself together long enough to stroke Merlin further towards his climax, leaning in to murmur hotly against his ear.
“God, Merlin, look at you. So full and desperate for more.” Merlin moaned and bucked against Arthur’s hold. “Come on, let me see you come.”
He squeezed Merlin’s cock, which made Merlin gasp again. His eyes were lidded and glassy when he turned as much as he could in Arthur’s arms. They had hardly managed more than a brief clashing of teeth before Merlin stiffened and spilled all over Arthur’s hand, strings of come falling onto the cloak. Arthur stared at it as he milked Merlin dry, riveted by the contrast of white on red, until Merlin whimpered again, this time in discomfort.
Without a word, Arthur released his cock, but kept his arms around Merlin as he manhandled him onto the ground. Merlin seemed happy enough with the arrangement, leaving lazy, messy kisses against the side of Arthur’s neck while their breathing evened. Arthur let his eyes close, enjoying the closeness of just lying there in silence after so many days surrounded by his men and the sounds of battle.
A moment later, he felt Merlin shift in his arms, as if he was preparing to slip away. He tightened his grip and opened his eyes to frown at him.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a cloth,” Merlin answered, the unsaid ‘you prat’ ringing clear in his voice. “I’m filthy.”
“Mmm,” Arthur agreed, pulling until Merlin gave in and snuggled back against him. “I rather thought you could do that without getting up.”
Merlin blinked at him, as if he’d forgotten that he had magic, before his eyes glowed gold. Arthur smirked.
“Idiot.”
“Lazy arse,” Merlin shot back, but he returned Arthur’s kiss, anyway.
“It’s not my fault you’re shit at resting, Merlin,” Arthur retorted smugly.
“What-you are not blaming this on me,” Merlin objected indignantly. “You were just as eager a moment ago.”
“Really?” Arthur purred, rolling over to pin Merlin beneath him. Once against he was struck by the contrast of Merlin’s white skin against the red cloak. Even the flush that lingered on his cheeks and chest paled in comparison. Arthur felt a twinge of interest in his cock as he stared down at the image Merlin offered, spread languidly across the cloak, legs parting to allow Arthur to slide between them. The gaze he fixed Arthur with was amused, and sated, but Arthur didn’t miss the flash of desire when he ran his hand down Merlin’s chest, or the way Merlin’s legs had wrapped around his hips, bringing him closer.
Smirking, Arthur leaned down until their lips were nearly touching. “Let’s think. Who was the one lying in my bed, naked, waiting for me?” Merlin glared at him, and didn’t answer. “And who was the one who fingered himself open before I was even here?” Again, silence. Arthur’s smirk grew. “And who,” he continued, lips brushing against Merlin’s, “begged me to fuck him harder?”
“Shut up,” Merlin growled, pulling Arthur down against him for a kiss. Arthur went with a laugh.
There was time for resting when they got back to Camelot.