Arthur and the Pornbats 6/? - "-the size of a small walnut"
~Chapter One~ ~ Chapter Two~ ~Chapter Three~ ~ Chapter Four~ ~Chapter Five~
Rating's gone up to R! Whee! Finally.
Not quite an NC-17 yet...you'll see when you read it. But it's probably...definitely...an R.
Disclaimer and all that's in Chapter One.
A/N: There might be minor problems in this on account of the fact that I had to post before I could properly edit; if you spot any, lemmie know and I'll fix.
Merlin heard the birdsong before his eyes opened.
He was in a tangle of limbs, again…not the first time in the last couple of days, but it was the first time since they’d gone into that damned cave that he felt…rested. Right. Complete. He looked down.
Arthur was sprawled on his chest, golden hair shining in the dawnlight that slipped through a crack in the shutters.
There were two ways this could go, Merlin knew. Either Arthur would awake, give him a kiss and a lazy smile and then begin again what had been begun before - an option that Merlin found vastly more preferable than the other - or Arthur would jolt awake, take one look at the situation and never speak to Merlin again.
He didn’t let that thought worry him. It was dawn. They needed to be getting up and ready and heading out, but for this moment, while everything was perfect, Merlin smiled. The bite on his wrist had even stopped itching.
Arthur was dreaming. Merlin could hear/see it the same way they shared telepathic images and words. Most of the images concerned the night before, but - in Arthur’s eyes - Merlin was always far more perfect than he knew himself to be. Hair long enough to fall into his eyes for Arthur to brush back. Muscles more toned, defined…and that was definitely not what his backside really looked like.
Merlin closed his eyes and listened to Arthur’s dreams. Getting up would come later. The rest of the world breaking into their perfect moment would come later. For now, this moment was just for them.
When Arthur woke, Merlin had already risen and had put on the blue dress (working on the theory that women of breeding had more than one dress and that Arthur wouldn’t mind, and that it wasn’t safe to put on his own clothes just yet), and was puttering about the room tidying and seeing to the other duties that were generally his. Gathering up the laundry, for instance; it was scattered about the room, haphazardly strewn across the furniture.
…there were fingers…long boned fingers, callused from hard work, that slipped down beneath the edge of his breeches, that caressed and stroked the soft, sensitive flesh of Arthur’s hips, paving the way for the kisses that followed…
Arthur blinked, and Merlin looked up from what he was doing.
“Morning,” Merlin said. He seemed uncertain. He was waiting for something, and after a moment, Arthur realized it was him.
“Morning,” he said. His voice was low and groggy from sleep.
…lips…full lips that parted with the slightest pressure to let him explore with his tongue the soft, wet, warmth of Merlin’s mouth…
“Um,” Merlin said. “We should…”
“Yeah,” Arthur replied, his face going red. Prince’s faces shouldn’t go red. “We should.”
…he’d turned the tides, flipped Merlin over and pinned him to the mattress, ordered him to stay there while he divested his servant of the remainder of his clothes and the remainder of his control by grasping the hard length of him in his own callused hands like a sword…he knew how to use swords…
Merlin turned away. Arthur frowned and rose, naked, from the bed. He padded across the room and put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin stiffened and spun around, and asked a question with his eyes. Arthur answered by pulling Merlin to him. Merlin cooperated.
Merlin didn’t relax completely until Arthur had pulled the dress over his head and taken him back to bed.
Everyone in the common room broke out into cheers as soon as they stepped down off the stairs. Random men came and clapped Arthur on the back and offered to by him drinks, and the bar wenches pulled Merlin aside for ‘girl talk’, which mostly consisted of huge, toothy grins and blushes and giggles.
Accept, Arthur, Merlin said when he heard Arthur begin to decline the offer of ale. They’ll be offended if you don’t. He turned his attention back to the other women when it was clear that Arthur was going to have at least one drink.
The women were sharing looks amongst themselves, which Merlin wasn’t entirely sure that he liked. Without warning, they grabbed his arm and propelled him into the kitchen.
He caught a whiff of panic from Arthur’s mind as he was taken out of sight, but nothing nearly as strong as it had been the day before. Clearly what they had done last night (and this morning) had soothed that particular part of the spell’s effects.
“You’re good,” one of them said. “Good enough to fool the men, at any rate, but not us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin said, looking around at the smiling faces. He could feel his ears going red again, and this time had no hood to hide them with.
“How typical,” another murmured at the same time as a third said, “Just like a man.”
Merlin felt the blood drain out of his face. “You know.”
“It’s not hard to spot,” the first woman said again. “You’ve got an Adam’s apple the size of a small walnut.”
“And no breasts,” the second said, “which isn’t a clue, per se, but...obvious.” She shrugged.
“Now, my dear,” a fourth and hitherto silent woman said. She was much older than the rest, and appeared to be in charge of the kitchen. “Don’t let any of this worry you. We won’t let on to the menfolk. They can be a little old fashioned when it comes to these things.”
“And we’re not of the questioning sort,” the first spoke up again, “so whatever reason you’re in that dress, it’s fine by us.”
“But at least let us give you some tips.”
Merlin didn’t know quite what to think.
An hour or so later, Merlin emerged from the kitchen to find Arthur, cheerfully relating a story about the slimness of someone’s hips. It only took a fraction of a second listening to Arthur’s mind to know that Arthur was talking about Merlin’s hips to a room full of men that would burn him at the stake if they knew precisely who his “lady wife” was under that dress.
The women, it turned out, had had a great deal of advice to offer, especially about how to walk, and look. They’d demonstrated a great many of these techniques to him while others had brought out the paints and powders that had always perplexed Merlin. By the time they were though with him, he had several different powders and paints on, and yet looked like he wasn’t wearing any (a kind of magic all on its own, that), and someone had drawn charcoal lines under his eyes.
He hadn’t had the heart to tell them that all of this was a disguise to escape bandits, that whatever had happened between Arthur and himself had to stop - and would, as soon as the spell wore off - and that they were on a quest, not a honeymoon. They’d been enjoying themselves far too much.
Arthur looked up then, and his face and thoughts went carefully still. The others seemed to think this was a good sign, however, because the men broke out in a chorus of “OooooooOOOoo”s that left the listening with no doubts as to where their thoughts had gone. Merlin smiled hesitantly, which only served to increase their delight.
Arthur rose.
You’re going to have to kiss me, Merlin said.
In front of all these people? Arthur asked, a little panicked.
If you want to keep up appearances, yes, Merlin replied
Then I am not responsible for my actions or the consequences of them, Arthur replied. He sounded smug.
In one smooth stride he reached Merlin, took him in his arms, spun him slightly, dipped him and kissed him fiercely.
Merlin had been going to make a smart remark, but Arthur had taken the thought right out of his head.
...neither of them had had any experience with this; in reality, Arthur was as fumbling and embarrassed as Merlin. But the same instinct that drove them together told them where to kiss, where to tease, where to lick and where to bite, and - spell or no spell - they enjoyed every minute of it…
“Now, I want to thank you all,” Arthur said, releasing Merlin from the kiss after setting him on his feet. Merlin could barely hear over the roaring blood in his ears. “You have all been very kind, but my…bride…and I must be on our way.”
There were some protests to this, which Arthur deflected with the ease of a courtier, and the kitchen Matron insisted on packing them a large lunch before they went (free of charge, too), and everyone insisted on toasting the happy couple (“To Arty and Marilyn!”), but eventually, they got their horses ready and left.
At the door, Merlin received and extra round of hugs from the kitchen girls and a kiss on the cheek from the Matron herself, and then Arthur helped him mount his horse (while making silent, snide remarks about who was serving whom). Arthur mounted his own horse, gave a jaunty wave, and then they were both off.
An hour or so up the road, when they were sure that they were out of sight, hearing, range, smell or anything else from the village of Barndor, Arthur turned his horse off the road and into the woods. Merlin followed, fairly certain he knew what was going to happen next.
“Get changed,” Arthur ordered, reigning in. “We’ll be passing through villages where they know us, soon enough. I’d rather no one noticed that you were wearing a dress.”
Merlin grinned cheekily, and dismounted. “I’m actually enjoying this,” he said as he pulled his own clothes out of his saddle bags.
“You would be,” Arthur muttered, watching archly as Merlin tossed the dress off over his head and stood, nearly naked, in the mid-afternoon sunlight. His pale skin was so bright that Arthur had to look the other way for a moment. “Good lord, Merlin - haven’t you ever done anything out of doors?”
“With my shirt off? No.” He shrugged lean shoulders. “My mother said it wasn’t healthy to go about with my shirt off. I’d catch a cold.”
“It’s certainly not good for my vision,” Arthur replied, squinting against the glare. “You’re blinding me.”
“With my radiant good looks?” Merlin asked, pulling his usual clothes on over his head.
“No, with your pasty white skin.”
...’alabaster’ was the word that came to mind. It echoed between them as they came together in body and mind. The bed creaked as Merlin rocked his hips upwards, seeking to bury himself deeper in the warmth of Arthur’s mouth…
“Cut that out,” Arthur said, when the image faded.
“Cut what out?” Merlin asked.
“The…memories…” Arthur muttered, going his particular shade of red.
“I didn’t do anything,” Merlin insisted. “That was you.”
“It was not.”
Merlin grinned, and - fully dressed - remounted his horse. “Do you think we threw the bandits off our trail?” he asked, settling the bag full of Ivegoth Eerpes moss around his shoulders. The dress he’d shoved into the saddlebags with the other.
Arthur grunted. “If anyone connects us to ‘Arty and Marilyn’, I’d be surprised,” Arthur replied. “We should be able to make Camelot by nightfall tomorrow or a little later, if we ride hard,” he added. “Let us hope that Morgana is still alright.”
Merlin winced. He’d actually forgotten about Morgana, though to be fair, he’d had a lot on his mind in the past day or so. Besides…no one died from a rash…did they?
Without waiting for a reply, Arthur turned his horse and cantered out of the woods and back to the road. Merlin followed.
They both left so quickly that they didn’t notice the three women from the cave standing where they’d been moments before. Even if they’d looked back, though, Merlin and Arthur wouldn’t have seen anything. The women were only there long enough to share smug grins, and then they vanished again.
Do you think… Merlin began as they galloped down the road. The wind of their passage and the thundering of their horses’ hooves made vocal communication impossible.
What, Merlin? Arthur asked.
Do you think Gaius can cure us?
I don’t know, Arthur replied tersely.
I don’t think I want him to, Merlin said, but the thought was so quiet that Arthur almost missed it.
Don’t be daft, Merlin, of course you want him to.
Why?
Because this, and his thought encompassed everything in that one word, might just be the beginning. We don’t know what else could happen. We’ve already… he trailed off, and his thoughts were filled with the events of last night and this morning, and focused specifically on Merlin’s hands and what they’d done to him.
Maybe we’ve already paid the price that the cave women were talking about, Merlin suggested, inwardly smiling at Arthur’s memory. Maybe it’s over.
Then how come we’re still communicating like this? Arthur asked. If it’s over, I shouldn’t be able to hear you anymore. I shouldn’t want you anymore…
Merlin said nothing for a long moment. You don’t want to? He finally asked, striving for nonchalance, though he feared his own hurt and building anger would get in the way of that.
No, Arthur replied. It’s…it’s just…not something my father would approve of, he finally managed. Or the people of Camelot. They expect an heir out of me. And you might have been wearing a dress, but…
Ah.
Neither had ever thought that a single word could convey so much disappointment.
A/N: This wasn't too...wishy-washy, was it? I'm somewhat nervous that it was...also, I'm having issues figuring out precisely where they would be in terms of the timeline for getting back, but that might just be the Nyquil talking. Hope you enjoyed!
Rating's gone up to R! Whee! Finally.
Not quite an NC-17 yet...you'll see when you read it. But it's probably...definitely...an R.
Disclaimer and all that's in Chapter One.
A/N: There might be minor problems in this on account of the fact that I had to post before I could properly edit; if you spot any, lemmie know and I'll fix.
Merlin heard the birdsong before his eyes opened.
He was in a tangle of limbs, again…not the first time in the last couple of days, but it was the first time since they’d gone into that damned cave that he felt…rested. Right. Complete. He looked down.
Arthur was sprawled on his chest, golden hair shining in the dawnlight that slipped through a crack in the shutters.
There were two ways this could go, Merlin knew. Either Arthur would awake, give him a kiss and a lazy smile and then begin again what had been begun before - an option that Merlin found vastly more preferable than the other - or Arthur would jolt awake, take one look at the situation and never speak to Merlin again.
He didn’t let that thought worry him. It was dawn. They needed to be getting up and ready and heading out, but for this moment, while everything was perfect, Merlin smiled. The bite on his wrist had even stopped itching.
Arthur was dreaming. Merlin could hear/see it the same way they shared telepathic images and words. Most of the images concerned the night before, but - in Arthur’s eyes - Merlin was always far more perfect than he knew himself to be. Hair long enough to fall into his eyes for Arthur to brush back. Muscles more toned, defined…and that was definitely not what his backside really looked like.
Merlin closed his eyes and listened to Arthur’s dreams. Getting up would come later. The rest of the world breaking into their perfect moment would come later. For now, this moment was just for them.
When Arthur woke, Merlin had already risen and had put on the blue dress (working on the theory that women of breeding had more than one dress and that Arthur wouldn’t mind, and that it wasn’t safe to put on his own clothes just yet), and was puttering about the room tidying and seeing to the other duties that were generally his. Gathering up the laundry, for instance; it was scattered about the room, haphazardly strewn across the furniture.
…there were fingers…long boned fingers, callused from hard work, that slipped down beneath the edge of his breeches, that caressed and stroked the soft, sensitive flesh of Arthur’s hips, paving the way for the kisses that followed…
Arthur blinked, and Merlin looked up from what he was doing.
“Morning,” Merlin said. He seemed uncertain. He was waiting for something, and after a moment, Arthur realized it was him.
“Morning,” he said. His voice was low and groggy from sleep.
…lips…full lips that parted with the slightest pressure to let him explore with his tongue the soft, wet, warmth of Merlin’s mouth…
“Um,” Merlin said. “We should…”
“Yeah,” Arthur replied, his face going red. Prince’s faces shouldn’t go red. “We should.”
…he’d turned the tides, flipped Merlin over and pinned him to the mattress, ordered him to stay there while he divested his servant of the remainder of his clothes and the remainder of his control by grasping the hard length of him in his own callused hands like a sword…he knew how to use swords…
Merlin turned away. Arthur frowned and rose, naked, from the bed. He padded across the room and put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. Merlin stiffened and spun around, and asked a question with his eyes. Arthur answered by pulling Merlin to him. Merlin cooperated.
Merlin didn’t relax completely until Arthur had pulled the dress over his head and taken him back to bed.
Everyone in the common room broke out into cheers as soon as they stepped down off the stairs. Random men came and clapped Arthur on the back and offered to by him drinks, and the bar wenches pulled Merlin aside for ‘girl talk’, which mostly consisted of huge, toothy grins and blushes and giggles.
Accept, Arthur, Merlin said when he heard Arthur begin to decline the offer of ale. They’ll be offended if you don’t. He turned his attention back to the other women when it was clear that Arthur was going to have at least one drink.
The women were sharing looks amongst themselves, which Merlin wasn’t entirely sure that he liked. Without warning, they grabbed his arm and propelled him into the kitchen.
He caught a whiff of panic from Arthur’s mind as he was taken out of sight, but nothing nearly as strong as it had been the day before. Clearly what they had done last night (and this morning) had soothed that particular part of the spell’s effects.
“You’re good,” one of them said. “Good enough to fool the men, at any rate, but not us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Merlin said, looking around at the smiling faces. He could feel his ears going red again, and this time had no hood to hide them with.
“How typical,” another murmured at the same time as a third said, “Just like a man.”
Merlin felt the blood drain out of his face. “You know.”
“It’s not hard to spot,” the first woman said again. “You’ve got an Adam’s apple the size of a small walnut.”
“And no breasts,” the second said, “which isn’t a clue, per se, but...obvious.” She shrugged.
“Now, my dear,” a fourth and hitherto silent woman said. She was much older than the rest, and appeared to be in charge of the kitchen. “Don’t let any of this worry you. We won’t let on to the menfolk. They can be a little old fashioned when it comes to these things.”
“And we’re not of the questioning sort,” the first spoke up again, “so whatever reason you’re in that dress, it’s fine by us.”
“But at least let us give you some tips.”
Merlin didn’t know quite what to think.
An hour or so later, Merlin emerged from the kitchen to find Arthur, cheerfully relating a story about the slimness of someone’s hips. It only took a fraction of a second listening to Arthur’s mind to know that Arthur was talking about Merlin’s hips to a room full of men that would burn him at the stake if they knew precisely who his “lady wife” was under that dress.
The women, it turned out, had had a great deal of advice to offer, especially about how to walk, and look. They’d demonstrated a great many of these techniques to him while others had brought out the paints and powders that had always perplexed Merlin. By the time they were though with him, he had several different powders and paints on, and yet looked like he wasn’t wearing any (a kind of magic all on its own, that), and someone had drawn charcoal lines under his eyes.
He hadn’t had the heart to tell them that all of this was a disguise to escape bandits, that whatever had happened between Arthur and himself had to stop - and would, as soon as the spell wore off - and that they were on a quest, not a honeymoon. They’d been enjoying themselves far too much.
Arthur looked up then, and his face and thoughts went carefully still. The others seemed to think this was a good sign, however, because the men broke out in a chorus of “OooooooOOOoo”s that left the listening with no doubts as to where their thoughts had gone. Merlin smiled hesitantly, which only served to increase their delight.
Arthur rose.
You’re going to have to kiss me, Merlin said.
In front of all these people? Arthur asked, a little panicked.
If you want to keep up appearances, yes, Merlin replied
Then I am not responsible for my actions or the consequences of them, Arthur replied. He sounded smug.
In one smooth stride he reached Merlin, took him in his arms, spun him slightly, dipped him and kissed him fiercely.
Merlin had been going to make a smart remark, but Arthur had taken the thought right out of his head.
...neither of them had had any experience with this; in reality, Arthur was as fumbling and embarrassed as Merlin. But the same instinct that drove them together told them where to kiss, where to tease, where to lick and where to bite, and - spell or no spell - they enjoyed every minute of it…
“Now, I want to thank you all,” Arthur said, releasing Merlin from the kiss after setting him on his feet. Merlin could barely hear over the roaring blood in his ears. “You have all been very kind, but my…bride…and I must be on our way.”
There were some protests to this, which Arthur deflected with the ease of a courtier, and the kitchen Matron insisted on packing them a large lunch before they went (free of charge, too), and everyone insisted on toasting the happy couple (“To Arty and Marilyn!”), but eventually, they got their horses ready and left.
At the door, Merlin received and extra round of hugs from the kitchen girls and a kiss on the cheek from the Matron herself, and then Arthur helped him mount his horse (while making silent, snide remarks about who was serving whom). Arthur mounted his own horse, gave a jaunty wave, and then they were both off.
An hour or so up the road, when they were sure that they were out of sight, hearing, range, smell or anything else from the village of Barndor, Arthur turned his horse off the road and into the woods. Merlin followed, fairly certain he knew what was going to happen next.
“Get changed,” Arthur ordered, reigning in. “We’ll be passing through villages where they know us, soon enough. I’d rather no one noticed that you were wearing a dress.”
Merlin grinned cheekily, and dismounted. “I’m actually enjoying this,” he said as he pulled his own clothes out of his saddle bags.
“You would be,” Arthur muttered, watching archly as Merlin tossed the dress off over his head and stood, nearly naked, in the mid-afternoon sunlight. His pale skin was so bright that Arthur had to look the other way for a moment. “Good lord, Merlin - haven’t you ever done anything out of doors?”
“With my shirt off? No.” He shrugged lean shoulders. “My mother said it wasn’t healthy to go about with my shirt off. I’d catch a cold.”
“It’s certainly not good for my vision,” Arthur replied, squinting against the glare. “You’re blinding me.”
“With my radiant good looks?” Merlin asked, pulling his usual clothes on over his head.
“No, with your pasty white skin.”
...’alabaster’ was the word that came to mind. It echoed between them as they came together in body and mind. The bed creaked as Merlin rocked his hips upwards, seeking to bury himself deeper in the warmth of Arthur’s mouth…
“Cut that out,” Arthur said, when the image faded.
“Cut what out?” Merlin asked.
“The…memories…” Arthur muttered, going his particular shade of red.
“I didn’t do anything,” Merlin insisted. “That was you.”
“It was not.”
Merlin grinned, and - fully dressed - remounted his horse. “Do you think we threw the bandits off our trail?” he asked, settling the bag full of Ivegoth Eerpes moss around his shoulders. The dress he’d shoved into the saddlebags with the other.
Arthur grunted. “If anyone connects us to ‘Arty and Marilyn’, I’d be surprised,” Arthur replied. “We should be able to make Camelot by nightfall tomorrow or a little later, if we ride hard,” he added. “Let us hope that Morgana is still alright.”
Merlin winced. He’d actually forgotten about Morgana, though to be fair, he’d had a lot on his mind in the past day or so. Besides…no one died from a rash…did they?
Without waiting for a reply, Arthur turned his horse and cantered out of the woods and back to the road. Merlin followed.
They both left so quickly that they didn’t notice the three women from the cave standing where they’d been moments before. Even if they’d looked back, though, Merlin and Arthur wouldn’t have seen anything. The women were only there long enough to share smug grins, and then they vanished again.
Do you think… Merlin began as they galloped down the road. The wind of their passage and the thundering of their horses’ hooves made vocal communication impossible.
What, Merlin? Arthur asked.
Do you think Gaius can cure us?
I don’t know, Arthur replied tersely.
I don’t think I want him to, Merlin said, but the thought was so quiet that Arthur almost missed it.
Don’t be daft, Merlin, of course you want him to.
Why?
Because this, and his thought encompassed everything in that one word, might just be the beginning. We don’t know what else could happen. We’ve already… he trailed off, and his thoughts were filled with the events of last night and this morning, and focused specifically on Merlin’s hands and what they’d done to him.
Maybe we’ve already paid the price that the cave women were talking about, Merlin suggested, inwardly smiling at Arthur’s memory. Maybe it’s over.
Then how come we’re still communicating like this? Arthur asked. If it’s over, I shouldn’t be able to hear you anymore. I shouldn’t want you anymore…
Merlin said nothing for a long moment. You don’t want to? He finally asked, striving for nonchalance, though he feared his own hurt and building anger would get in the way of that.
No, Arthur replied. It’s…it’s just…not something my father would approve of, he finally managed. Or the people of Camelot. They expect an heir out of me. And you might have been wearing a dress, but…
Ah.
Neither had ever thought that a single word could convey so much disappointment.
A/N: This wasn't too...wishy-washy, was it? I'm somewhat nervous that it was...also, I'm having issues figuring out precisely where they would be in terms of the timeline for getting back, but that might just be the Nyquil talking. Hope you enjoyed!