"I knew those scarves served a purpose other than just making Merlin look gay."
I survived the Land of No Internets with more-or-less no pain, but vast vast vast amounts of cava(/baileys/beer/champagne/wine/someone even got me to drink cheap-arse Asti somewhere in there). I confused family members by typing away on baby!computer everywhere and anywhere when I got the chance and then giving them oblique answers to their questions of, "what are you doing?" My brother, however (who is currently my best friend because he bought me the Merlin DVDs for Xmas), may have discovered what I was doing when my small cousin decided to hijack the computer and brought up an email to Jen-chan, which began "18. A Chastisement (<--this title sounds kinky. I might have to change it)." Lucky thing the child can't read yet.
Also of random interest, above-mentioned small cousin was also introduced to the legend of Merlin over Christmas. There was a film on TV with an incarnation of Merlin in it and I was very interested to listen to my aunt tell her about Merlin and about how he had been Arthur's friend, who was king of England and had a big, famous sword. My cousin mostly just looked confused.
And yes, as the icon-usage suggests, I present a fic. Completed in the fine company of my grandparents, originally a xmas card fic for j-apollo which wanted more, more, more. Beta'd by cienna, and with added ears for stopwatch_plz. Remaining mistakes are mine. Particularly as I had the fine luck of finding a very interesting and useful essay on how to write successful smut this morning and so have felt the need to implement certain aspects of the advice on this piece, being pretty much a PWP and all.
To which;
Title: The One Way
Rating: Hard R I should imagine. R standing for "Rampant Smexing". Avec une sukoshi magic.
Words: 2,807. Which is quite ridiculous for a PWP.
Summary: The one way Merlin had never expected Arthur to find out about his magic happened one Friday afternoon, not long after lunch.
Random note at the end, because I felt the need to share (also know as "bitch about") my childhood censorship incident.
.The One Way.
The one way Merlin had never expected Arthur to find out about his magic happened one Friday afternoon, not long after lunch.
Merlin was making his way back up from the kitchens when Arthur, appearing in front of him on the staircase, called, "Merlin, I need you to clean my bedclothes." This made Merlin frown because he'd only changed Arthur's sheets that morning. But Arthur looked annoyed and a touch red-faced so Merlin thought it best not to argue. Then he muttered something about Morgana and missing underclothes and Merlin thought he might understand why Arthur was in such a bad mood, and he just could not resist.
"Did Lady Morgana upset you again, sire," he teased, which had the desired effect of making Arthur sputter and spit back, "I am not upset. Now get in my room."
Merlin nodded amiably and did as he was told, Arthur shuffling into the room somewhere behind him. The curtains were partly drawn, which was odd because Merlin was quite sure he had opened them that morning. He was even more confused when he went over to stand beside the bed, because it was still made and as clean as he had left it that morning.
He turned to look at Arthur, began, "But," then saw Arthur lock the door before turning back to look at him, his eyes intent and almost angry-looking. Merlin thought, He's possessed and looked quickly around the room for any sign of Evil Sorceresses hiding behind the curtains. Then Arthur was stalking towards him, licking his lips in such a way that Merlin knew for certain that Arthur was possessed. He thought about protesting, but before he could even form Arthur's name, Arthur had crossed the room and had his lips on Merlin's, his hands grasping at Merlin's coat, then his palms were pressed flat against his chest, slipping over his shoulders and down his back to his arse.
Merlin had just decided to open his mouth, to taste Arthur, to maybe let his own hands find out what Arthur's hips felt like under his fingers when Arthur pulled away and Merlin was even more confused. He was not at all, he told himself, at all disappointed that it was over. He did not miss the press of their bodies and he did not want more and he was not at all interested in this. In Arthur. Like this. With kissing. And things.
"Morgana was right," Arthur said, shaking his head with an incredulous look. He stepped back a little and began shoving the material of Merlin's jacket off his shoulders. "This is very stress-relieving."
The jacket fell to the floor and Merlin looked at Arthur; irritated, impatient, imperious. Other words beginning with I. Just like Arthur usually acted. So, he considered, maybe not possessed after all.
What was more, Merlin thought, it (whatever it was) didn't seem to be over after all.
Arthur's hands were making fast work of his scarf and there was a not entirely encouraging grin on his face that made Merlin think of lecherous barmaids and sailors.
A part of Merlin begged to just give in to the touch, to stand there and let himself be stripped bare by Arthur. But, this was Arthur, and he was Merlin, and there was still the possession issue lingering somewhere in the back of him mind.
"I am not," he said slowly, putting his hands over Arthur's to stop him removing any more of his clothes, "Here to relieve your stress." Merlin paused. "Like that."
Arthur stared. "But you were enjoying it," he said. "You kissed back," he accused.
Merlin frowned and shook his head. "That is not the point."
"It rather is," Arthur argued. "I want this. You want this. What is the problem? We can relieve your stress at the same time." He paused thoughtfully, his hands running down the length of Merlin's arms, stopping to rub gently at Merlin's elbows which did not make him shiver at all. "Not that I imagine you have much stress. Being you and everything," he added.
"I have lots of stress, thank you very much!" Merlin protested. "I'll have you know it is very difficult being the servant of a demanding, snobbish, annoying tosser like you."
"You know what," Arthur said huffily, his arms falling to his sides. "Morgana was wrong; sex with you is more trouble than it's worth."
"Fine," said Merlin.
Arthur folded his arms and lifted his chin. "Fine."
They stood for several minutes just glaring at each other and Merlin thought, I hate him and I don't care that he's a prince and that he kissed me. And Arthur glowered back, his arms unfolding and going to rest at his hips.
Merlin set his back, unwilling to lose to Arthur, frowning harder, and Arthur's eyes narrowed in return.
They stood for several more moments until Merlin's face was beginning to ache from the strain of all that glaring.
"You must have been possessed, anyway," Merlin said viciously, remembering why this was all such a bad idea anyway.
"No one possesses me," Arthur shot back stubbornly, and Merlin scoffed because, really, what half-baked magician didn't possess Arthur. (Except me, Merlin thought. He would never do that. Not to Arthur.)
Perhaps his glaring and frowning lessened at the thought, his anger dissipating, perhaps he lost after all because then without another word or even looking at Arthur, Arthur was reaching for him and pushing their lips together again and touching and tearing off clothes and pressing their bodies against one another, trying to get closer. Trying to feel. And this time Merlin did the same. This time Merlin knew it was real.
"You know," Merlin remarked between kisses, Arthur's hands running up his thighs so that his breath hitched and his heart beat faster, his own hands gripping at Arthur's back, "This works much better." Then Arthur shoved his hips against Merlin's and for a moment Merlin couldn't do anything but moan and press lips and breathe against Arthur's chin and hold onto his shoulders. "If neither of us talks," he finished, at length, breathing in pants and really very embarrassing gasps.
Arthur pushed at Merlin, propelling him backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed. Then he placed his hands squarely on Merlin's chest and shoved so that Merlin tripped backwards. Merlin would have complained, would have told Arthur that he didn't care how he usually went about this but Merlin was not about to be pushed around just because they were in bed (and wasn't that thought; the thought of Arthur's hands on someone else, sobering) except Arthur grabbed at his ears and pulled, leaning down and kissing him with wet lips and warm tongue and pressing his knee between Merlin's legs.
"You're right," Arthur breathed heavily against Merlin's neck, fingers tracing lines from his skull to his shoulders. He pushed off Merlin's tunic, threw it away then ran his tongue over Merlin's collarbone as he unbuckled his belts. Merlin arched into the touch, to the feel of Arthur's lips soft and warm against his skin. He raked hands through Arthur's soft hair and sighed, "Arthur," and felt Arthur smile against his stomach and say, "So shut up."
For once Merlin agreed, and gave himself over to the sensation of Arthur's teeth against his hip, of his tongue and his mouth and his hands, pulling at the waist of his trousers, digging his fingers into his arse, scraping nails across his waist. He could forget, just this once, about magic and imminent death and the fact that Arthur was a complete bastard. Because then Arthur's hands took hold of Merlin's cock and Merlin gasped and almost whimpered, "Arthur," and "Yes, that," except Arthur was there again, licking his way into his mouth and biting lightly at his tongue. So Merlin supposed, silence wasn't always bad and kissed Arthur back, letting his own hands find Arthur's shoulders and back and very very agreeable backside. With Arthur's fingers wrapped around him and moving and so hot and so fast Merlin couldn't help but press himself again and again into Arthur's hand until he could feel that heat all over, smothering him, until he thought he might suffocate but couldn't quite bring himself to care. Arthur's hands twisted and pulled and did other things that Merlin had never quite considered doing before and before he could take hold of Arthur and hold on, or gather himself together enough to remember that Arthur probably wanted this too, he was coming. Warmth and pleasure roiled through him, stifling and overwhelming and through it all he looked at Arthur; couldn't take him eyes off of him, then the world sort of tilted and there was a smashing sound and a creaking sound like wood splitting.
Arthur's eyes suddenly went wide and he shifted back on his knees. Looking down at Merlin warily, hands slipping away from Merlin's body to rest either side of his head. It was then, still panting, his toes still tingling, that Merlin felt himself go cold and fear coil heavily in the pit of his stomach.
He said, "Um," and Arthur said, "Your eyes turned gold. That, I do not think, is normal."
Merlin whispered, "Err," and felt very naked and maybe a little bit scared.
Behind Arthur, beyond Arthur's shoulders and the bed hangings, Merlin could see broken pots, a smashed mirror (and wasn't that just perfect), shields hanging skewed on the walls, and Arthur's table laying at an odd angle as though one leg had broken which, Merlin supposed, it must have. He swallowed nervously and decided, yes, this was really not the way he had ever expected this to go.
And he had no idea what to say.
Arthur frowned and glanced behind him at the room, then back at Merlin with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't suppose you would believe me," Merlin tried, his voice nervous and a lot smaller than he would have liked," If I said this only happens when I have sex?"
"Merlin," Arthur said carefully, "I wouldn't believe you if you told me you had ever actually had sex before."
"Right," Merlin said. Then, "Hey!"
"I think I should be the angry one here," Arthur sniffed and, well, he wasn't calling for the guards or running for his sword or even for his clothes so Merlin supposed he might survive this after all.
"We could just," Merlin suggested hopefully, "Not talk some more?"
"And break more of my things?" Arthur replied wryly.
"Right," Merlin agreed, deflated. "I suppose not."
He looked away because Arthur was still staring at him and decided he should maybe leave or at least move away and find some clothes, but Arthur put a hand heavily on his chest.
"What else can you do?"
Merlin blinked. "What else can I do?"
"Yes, Merlin." Arthur sighed in that annoyed, put-upon way he had and that made Merlin want to smack him. "What else can you do?" Can you control... it? Or are you as hopeless at this as you are at everything else?"
"I..." Merlin began. "I can control it. Mostly."
"Hmm," Arthur said thoughtfully. "Well, if it's just me that... you know... is..." and Arthur gestured between them and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Then there shouldn't be any more property damage."
"If it's just...?" Merlin frowned, not understanding what Arthur meant until he covered Merlin's lips with his own again, and took Merlin's wrist in his hand, guiding it to his cock.
"Oh," Merlin said, feeling Arthur's skin under his fingers, surprised by the softness and the wetness. "Oh." Then Merlin held as much of Arthur as he could, fingers curled loosely then tightly then loosely around him, stroking along unfamiliar skin. He had seen Arthur naked a thousand times; had helped him bathe and dressed him and put his hands on Arthur's body but this was new and unknown and thrilling, because he had never done this before, because Arthur knew.
And Arthur did not look away. His eyes went wide and hungry and his breath sped up and Merlin was just so relieved and so grateful that Arthur still wanted him, still liked him and trusted him with this that he pulled Arthur towards him with his free hand and kissed Arthur with everything he had; breath, lust, magic, affection, until he was gasping for air.
When they pulled apart, finally, Arthur was looking at him with a half-smile, his attention half-turned to the side.
"You broke another vase," he breathed, sounding somewhere between annoyed and amused. Then his expression softened to something more serious, and he said quietly, "You should have told me," before leaning down to press lips to lips and thrust his cock hard into Merlin's hand.
"I should have," Merlin agreed against Arthur's mouth, speeding up his movements, letting Arthur shift his knees, letting him grab his hair and tilt back his chin and suck at his neck so hard Merlin knew there would be marks and he was suddenly and absurdly very glad that he was in the habit of wearing scarves.
Arthur pushed and Merlin grasped at Arthur's hip and Arthur's cock and felt himself, again, go hot all over and his feet and fingers tingled and itched. Arthur's body ground against him, brushing against Merlin's own cock with each stroke, heavy and sweat-slicked, and Arthur was suddenly smiling even as he pressed himself to Merlin again and again, panting, "You weren't," and he shifted his knees, trying to get a better angle, "Supposed to," and Merlin pressed his feet against the back of Arthur's legs and pressed himself up to meet Arthur's thrusts. "As well."
But then Arthur leaned his weight onto one arm and reached down between them, taking Merlin in hand and sliding fingers over his hardened cock even as Merlin's hand held his.
Arthur kissed at the side of his mouth then dragged his lips along Merlin's cheek, still pushing and pushing and gasping as Merlin pushed back. Arthur licked at Merlin's ear, and at the feel of Arthur's tongue Merlin turned his head into the touch and drove his hips forward, twisted his fingers around Arthur's cock so that Arthur's breath hitched and his thrusts stuttered out of rhythm before pausing, then pressing forward faster. Matching thrusts and speed Merlin felt the heat and the pleasure gathering again. Everywhere Arthur touched turned sensitive and Merlin's whole body wanted more and faster and now and now and now.
Arthur breathed Merlin's name in a way he had never heard before; full of want and soft like a deep, contented sigh, then he came over Merlin's hand. He shuddered and stilled for a moment and Merlin watched as his eyes closed and his lips parted. His back curved and he laid his head on Merlin's chest, not letting go of Merlin's cock, and just laid there, panting. Then Arthur took a deep breath, pushed himself back up to loom over Merlin and leant down and kissed him, all sloppy lips and hungry tongue and took up the pace again.
He pulled back, smiled wickedly at Merlin before crouching back and taking Merlin's cock in his mouth. Merlin thought, Oh my God then, Oh my God on my God oh my God, because Arthur's tongue was there, and his fingers were laid flat on his hip bones and his lips were around him and then Merlin was coming too, again. And what felt like again and again because Arthur didn't seem to want to let him go; just kept licking and closing his lips around Merlin's cock until Merlin groaned Arthur's name and grasped at Arthur's shoulders bruisingly tight with both hands.
As he lay there, then, waiting for his breath to even out and his heart to slow Merlin felt Arthur crawling his way up his body and he opened his arms. Arthur was heavy against him and too warm but Merlin revelled in the proximity and the intimacy. And it couldn't have been any more comfortable for Arthur either, but he didn't care so Merlin wasn't going to worry about it. Instead, Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur, felt his soft hair on his chest and his warm breath on his arm and tried not to giggle as Arthur drew his fingers lightly down his sides.
This time, nothing more had been broken or smashed that Merlin could see. But with the taste of Arthur on his lips and the weight of his body above him, and with the heady openness and intensity of Arthur's gaze on him when he turned to look at him, chin digging painfully into his ribs, Merlin knew that Arthur felt it too; this contentment. This affection. This destiny.
Now, with no secrets between them, perhaps they really didn't need words after all.
.End.
Random A/N: On the use of "tosser": I like this word. It makes me smile. When I was 13 and performing in a comedy sketch me and a friend had written for the school House contest, we were banned during final rehearsals from using this word. This was wholly unfair because our sketch was about PANCAKES. Also, that was our best damned joke. From that day on I made sure to say this word at school as much as possible.
Comments and concrit welcomed and appreciated. And, I hope everyone had a great Xmas and will have a fantastic New Year! ♥
Also of random interest, above-mentioned small cousin was also introduced to the legend of Merlin over Christmas. There was a film on TV with an incarnation of Merlin in it and I was very interested to listen to my aunt tell her about Merlin and about how he had been Arthur's friend, who was king of England and had a big, famous sword. My cousin mostly just looked confused.
And yes, as the icon-usage suggests, I present a fic. Completed in the fine company of my grandparents, originally a xmas card fic for j-apollo which wanted more, more, more. Beta'd by cienna, and with added ears for stopwatch_plz. Remaining mistakes are mine. Particularly as I had the fine luck of finding a very interesting and useful essay on how to write successful smut this morning and so have felt the need to implement certain aspects of the advice on this piece, being pretty much a PWP and all.
To which;
Title: The One Way
Rating: Hard R I should imagine. R standing for "Rampant Smexing". Avec une sukoshi magic.
Words: 2,807. Which is quite ridiculous for a PWP.
Summary: The one way Merlin had never expected Arthur to find out about his magic happened one Friday afternoon, not long after lunch.
Random note at the end, because I felt the need to share (also know as "bitch about") my childhood censorship incident.
.The One Way.
The one way Merlin had never expected Arthur to find out about his magic happened one Friday afternoon, not long after lunch.
Merlin was making his way back up from the kitchens when Arthur, appearing in front of him on the staircase, called, "Merlin, I need you to clean my bedclothes." This made Merlin frown because he'd only changed Arthur's sheets that morning. But Arthur looked annoyed and a touch red-faced so Merlin thought it best not to argue. Then he muttered something about Morgana and missing underclothes and Merlin thought he might understand why Arthur was in such a bad mood, and he just could not resist.
"Did Lady Morgana upset you again, sire," he teased, which had the desired effect of making Arthur sputter and spit back, "I am not upset. Now get in my room."
Merlin nodded amiably and did as he was told, Arthur shuffling into the room somewhere behind him. The curtains were partly drawn, which was odd because Merlin was quite sure he had opened them that morning. He was even more confused when he went over to stand beside the bed, because it was still made and as clean as he had left it that morning.
He turned to look at Arthur, began, "But," then saw Arthur lock the door before turning back to look at him, his eyes intent and almost angry-looking. Merlin thought, He's possessed and looked quickly around the room for any sign of Evil Sorceresses hiding behind the curtains. Then Arthur was stalking towards him, licking his lips in such a way that Merlin knew for certain that Arthur was possessed. He thought about protesting, but before he could even form Arthur's name, Arthur had crossed the room and had his lips on Merlin's, his hands grasping at Merlin's coat, then his palms were pressed flat against his chest, slipping over his shoulders and down his back to his arse.
Merlin had just decided to open his mouth, to taste Arthur, to maybe let his own hands find out what Arthur's hips felt like under his fingers when Arthur pulled away and Merlin was even more confused. He was not at all, he told himself, at all disappointed that it was over. He did not miss the press of their bodies and he did not want more and he was not at all interested in this. In Arthur. Like this. With kissing. And things.
"Morgana was right," Arthur said, shaking his head with an incredulous look. He stepped back a little and began shoving the material of Merlin's jacket off his shoulders. "This is very stress-relieving."
The jacket fell to the floor and Merlin looked at Arthur; irritated, impatient, imperious. Other words beginning with I. Just like Arthur usually acted. So, he considered, maybe not possessed after all.
What was more, Merlin thought, it (whatever it was) didn't seem to be over after all.
Arthur's hands were making fast work of his scarf and there was a not entirely encouraging grin on his face that made Merlin think of lecherous barmaids and sailors.
A part of Merlin begged to just give in to the touch, to stand there and let himself be stripped bare by Arthur. But, this was Arthur, and he was Merlin, and there was still the possession issue lingering somewhere in the back of him mind.
"I am not," he said slowly, putting his hands over Arthur's to stop him removing any more of his clothes, "Here to relieve your stress." Merlin paused. "Like that."
Arthur stared. "But you were enjoying it," he said. "You kissed back," he accused.
Merlin frowned and shook his head. "That is not the point."
"It rather is," Arthur argued. "I want this. You want this. What is the problem? We can relieve your stress at the same time." He paused thoughtfully, his hands running down the length of Merlin's arms, stopping to rub gently at Merlin's elbows which did not make him shiver at all. "Not that I imagine you have much stress. Being you and everything," he added.
"I have lots of stress, thank you very much!" Merlin protested. "I'll have you know it is very difficult being the servant of a demanding, snobbish, annoying tosser like you."
"You know what," Arthur said huffily, his arms falling to his sides. "Morgana was wrong; sex with you is more trouble than it's worth."
"Fine," said Merlin.
Arthur folded his arms and lifted his chin. "Fine."
They stood for several minutes just glaring at each other and Merlin thought, I hate him and I don't care that he's a prince and that he kissed me. And Arthur glowered back, his arms unfolding and going to rest at his hips.
Merlin set his back, unwilling to lose to Arthur, frowning harder, and Arthur's eyes narrowed in return.
They stood for several more moments until Merlin's face was beginning to ache from the strain of all that glaring.
"You must have been possessed, anyway," Merlin said viciously, remembering why this was all such a bad idea anyway.
"No one possesses me," Arthur shot back stubbornly, and Merlin scoffed because, really, what half-baked magician didn't possess Arthur. (Except me, Merlin thought. He would never do that. Not to Arthur.)
Perhaps his glaring and frowning lessened at the thought, his anger dissipating, perhaps he lost after all because then without another word or even looking at Arthur, Arthur was reaching for him and pushing their lips together again and touching and tearing off clothes and pressing their bodies against one another, trying to get closer. Trying to feel. And this time Merlin did the same. This time Merlin knew it was real.
"You know," Merlin remarked between kisses, Arthur's hands running up his thighs so that his breath hitched and his heart beat faster, his own hands gripping at Arthur's back, "This works much better." Then Arthur shoved his hips against Merlin's and for a moment Merlin couldn't do anything but moan and press lips and breathe against Arthur's chin and hold onto his shoulders. "If neither of us talks," he finished, at length, breathing in pants and really very embarrassing gasps.
Arthur pushed at Merlin, propelling him backwards until the backs of his legs hit the bed. Then he placed his hands squarely on Merlin's chest and shoved so that Merlin tripped backwards. Merlin would have complained, would have told Arthur that he didn't care how he usually went about this but Merlin was not about to be pushed around just because they were in bed (and wasn't that thought; the thought of Arthur's hands on someone else, sobering) except Arthur grabbed at his ears and pulled, leaning down and kissing him with wet lips and warm tongue and pressing his knee between Merlin's legs.
"You're right," Arthur breathed heavily against Merlin's neck, fingers tracing lines from his skull to his shoulders. He pushed off Merlin's tunic, threw it away then ran his tongue over Merlin's collarbone as he unbuckled his belts. Merlin arched into the touch, to the feel of Arthur's lips soft and warm against his skin. He raked hands through Arthur's soft hair and sighed, "Arthur," and felt Arthur smile against his stomach and say, "So shut up."
For once Merlin agreed, and gave himself over to the sensation of Arthur's teeth against his hip, of his tongue and his mouth and his hands, pulling at the waist of his trousers, digging his fingers into his arse, scraping nails across his waist. He could forget, just this once, about magic and imminent death and the fact that Arthur was a complete bastard. Because then Arthur's hands took hold of Merlin's cock and Merlin gasped and almost whimpered, "Arthur," and "Yes, that," except Arthur was there again, licking his way into his mouth and biting lightly at his tongue. So Merlin supposed, silence wasn't always bad and kissed Arthur back, letting his own hands find Arthur's shoulders and back and very very agreeable backside. With Arthur's fingers wrapped around him and moving and so hot and so fast Merlin couldn't help but press himself again and again into Arthur's hand until he could feel that heat all over, smothering him, until he thought he might suffocate but couldn't quite bring himself to care. Arthur's hands twisted and pulled and did other things that Merlin had never quite considered doing before and before he could take hold of Arthur and hold on, or gather himself together enough to remember that Arthur probably wanted this too, he was coming. Warmth and pleasure roiled through him, stifling and overwhelming and through it all he looked at Arthur; couldn't take him eyes off of him, then the world sort of tilted and there was a smashing sound and a creaking sound like wood splitting.
Arthur's eyes suddenly went wide and he shifted back on his knees. Looking down at Merlin warily, hands slipping away from Merlin's body to rest either side of his head. It was then, still panting, his toes still tingling, that Merlin felt himself go cold and fear coil heavily in the pit of his stomach.
He said, "Um," and Arthur said, "Your eyes turned gold. That, I do not think, is normal."
Merlin whispered, "Err," and felt very naked and maybe a little bit scared.
Behind Arthur, beyond Arthur's shoulders and the bed hangings, Merlin could see broken pots, a smashed mirror (and wasn't that just perfect), shields hanging skewed on the walls, and Arthur's table laying at an odd angle as though one leg had broken which, Merlin supposed, it must have. He swallowed nervously and decided, yes, this was really not the way he had ever expected this to go.
And he had no idea what to say.
Arthur frowned and glanced behind him at the room, then back at Merlin with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't suppose you would believe me," Merlin tried, his voice nervous and a lot smaller than he would have liked," If I said this only happens when I have sex?"
"Merlin," Arthur said carefully, "I wouldn't believe you if you told me you had ever actually had sex before."
"Right," Merlin said. Then, "Hey!"
"I think I should be the angry one here," Arthur sniffed and, well, he wasn't calling for the guards or running for his sword or even for his clothes so Merlin supposed he might survive this after all.
"We could just," Merlin suggested hopefully, "Not talk some more?"
"And break more of my things?" Arthur replied wryly.
"Right," Merlin agreed, deflated. "I suppose not."
He looked away because Arthur was still staring at him and decided he should maybe leave or at least move away and find some clothes, but Arthur put a hand heavily on his chest.
"What else can you do?"
Merlin blinked. "What else can I do?"
"Yes, Merlin." Arthur sighed in that annoyed, put-upon way he had and that made Merlin want to smack him. "What else can you do?" Can you control... it? Or are you as hopeless at this as you are at everything else?"
"I..." Merlin began. "I can control it. Mostly."
"Hmm," Arthur said thoughtfully. "Well, if it's just me that... you know... is..." and Arthur gestured between them and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Then there shouldn't be any more property damage."
"If it's just...?" Merlin frowned, not understanding what Arthur meant until he covered Merlin's lips with his own again, and took Merlin's wrist in his hand, guiding it to his cock.
"Oh," Merlin said, feeling Arthur's skin under his fingers, surprised by the softness and the wetness. "Oh." Then Merlin held as much of Arthur as he could, fingers curled loosely then tightly then loosely around him, stroking along unfamiliar skin. He had seen Arthur naked a thousand times; had helped him bathe and dressed him and put his hands on Arthur's body but this was new and unknown and thrilling, because he had never done this before, because Arthur knew.
And Arthur did not look away. His eyes went wide and hungry and his breath sped up and Merlin was just so relieved and so grateful that Arthur still wanted him, still liked him and trusted him with this that he pulled Arthur towards him with his free hand and kissed Arthur with everything he had; breath, lust, magic, affection, until he was gasping for air.
When they pulled apart, finally, Arthur was looking at him with a half-smile, his attention half-turned to the side.
"You broke another vase," he breathed, sounding somewhere between annoyed and amused. Then his expression softened to something more serious, and he said quietly, "You should have told me," before leaning down to press lips to lips and thrust his cock hard into Merlin's hand.
"I should have," Merlin agreed against Arthur's mouth, speeding up his movements, letting Arthur shift his knees, letting him grab his hair and tilt back his chin and suck at his neck so hard Merlin knew there would be marks and he was suddenly and absurdly very glad that he was in the habit of wearing scarves.
Arthur pushed and Merlin grasped at Arthur's hip and Arthur's cock and felt himself, again, go hot all over and his feet and fingers tingled and itched. Arthur's body ground against him, brushing against Merlin's own cock with each stroke, heavy and sweat-slicked, and Arthur was suddenly smiling even as he pressed himself to Merlin again and again, panting, "You weren't," and he shifted his knees, trying to get a better angle, "Supposed to," and Merlin pressed his feet against the back of Arthur's legs and pressed himself up to meet Arthur's thrusts. "As well."
But then Arthur leaned his weight onto one arm and reached down between them, taking Merlin in hand and sliding fingers over his hardened cock even as Merlin's hand held his.
Arthur kissed at the side of his mouth then dragged his lips along Merlin's cheek, still pushing and pushing and gasping as Merlin pushed back. Arthur licked at Merlin's ear, and at the feel of Arthur's tongue Merlin turned his head into the touch and drove his hips forward, twisted his fingers around Arthur's cock so that Arthur's breath hitched and his thrusts stuttered out of rhythm before pausing, then pressing forward faster. Matching thrusts and speed Merlin felt the heat and the pleasure gathering again. Everywhere Arthur touched turned sensitive and Merlin's whole body wanted more and faster and now and now and now.
Arthur breathed Merlin's name in a way he had never heard before; full of want and soft like a deep, contented sigh, then he came over Merlin's hand. He shuddered and stilled for a moment and Merlin watched as his eyes closed and his lips parted. His back curved and he laid his head on Merlin's chest, not letting go of Merlin's cock, and just laid there, panting. Then Arthur took a deep breath, pushed himself back up to loom over Merlin and leant down and kissed him, all sloppy lips and hungry tongue and took up the pace again.
He pulled back, smiled wickedly at Merlin before crouching back and taking Merlin's cock in his mouth. Merlin thought, Oh my God then, Oh my God on my God oh my God, because Arthur's tongue was there, and his fingers were laid flat on his hip bones and his lips were around him and then Merlin was coming too, again. And what felt like again and again because Arthur didn't seem to want to let him go; just kept licking and closing his lips around Merlin's cock until Merlin groaned Arthur's name and grasped at Arthur's shoulders bruisingly tight with both hands.
As he lay there, then, waiting for his breath to even out and his heart to slow Merlin felt Arthur crawling his way up his body and he opened his arms. Arthur was heavy against him and too warm but Merlin revelled in the proximity and the intimacy. And it couldn't have been any more comfortable for Arthur either, but he didn't care so Merlin wasn't going to worry about it. Instead, Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur, felt his soft hair on his chest and his warm breath on his arm and tried not to giggle as Arthur drew his fingers lightly down his sides.
This time, nothing more had been broken or smashed that Merlin could see. But with the taste of Arthur on his lips and the weight of his body above him, and with the heady openness and intensity of Arthur's gaze on him when he turned to look at him, chin digging painfully into his ribs, Merlin knew that Arthur felt it too; this contentment. This affection. This destiny.
Now, with no secrets between them, perhaps they really didn't need words after all.
.End.
Random A/N: On the use of "tosser": I like this word. It makes me smile. When I was 13 and performing in a comedy sketch me and a friend had written for the school House contest, we were banned during final rehearsals from using this word. This was wholly unfair because our sketch was about PANCAKES. Also, that was our best damned joke. From that day on I made sure to say this word at school as much as possible.
Comments and concrit welcomed and appreciated. And, I hope everyone had a great Xmas and will have a fantastic New Year! ♥