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Merlin likes pretty boys.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them in his bed, sleeping.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious and their arseholes are so trusting and loose for him to stick his dick inside.

Merlin likes pretty boys with blue eyes and blond hair—likes them sleeping in his bed, sleeping and drugged from the pills in their guts he slips them during dinner so he can tie them to his bed while they’re drooling and unconscious and their arseholes are so trusting and loose for him to stick his dick inside because it makes him come so hard.

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Merlin likes Arthur.

He’s Arthur’s nanny—Arthur’s nanny, Arthur, who’s fifteen years old and especially pretty when he frowns after his daddy’s leaving for the weekend, again. Merlin leaves lollipops on the kitchen counter of his flat, knowing Arthur’ll sneak one between his red puffy lips and suck it empty like he’s going to suck Merlin empty, later, when he won’t know. It makes Merlin’s trousers go tight as he cooks dinner for Arthur, who’s sitting at the dinner table with a cute glower on his handsome face. The pills are pretty like Arthur’s pretty—when he swallows them, unconsciously, like he’s going to swallow Merlin later, unconsciously. They make him drowsy, make him slur his words, make him fall asleep on Merlin’s couch while they’re watching footie.

Merlin shifts Arthur’s face into his lap and strokes the fair wispy hair, smiles indulgently as Arthur pushes his nose into his crotch, because when Arthur’s sleeping he’s dreaming of daddy; daddy, who’s never there.

“Daddy,” he’s mumbling, his voice so young, so vulnerable still it makes Merlin’s chest ache. So Merlin scoops him up and drags him over to his bed. Lays him down on it and spreads his arms like an angel’s wings; takes off his trousers and underwear and pushes his legs apart to lick at his plump butt, the way his daddy never does. Merlin does, and Arthur loves Merlin’s goodnight kisses: he’s making little snuffling noses when Merlin kisses the soft, innocent skin of his cheeks, slurs “daddy, daddy,” while Merlin’s lapping his tender hole open, the dusk giving way to rose, rose giving way to pink and hot and tight around Merlin’s tongue.

“Don’t go, daddy,” Arthur’s whimpering into Merlin’s pillow, crying the sort of fat, childish tears he won’t cry when he’s awake. Merlin’s chest tightens and he zips open his flies and slicks his dick with spit and goes to still Arthur’s need; he feeds his love into Arthur, slow, slow and lasting with every bit of his dick, because it needs to be enough to make Arthur go the entire week without him until next weekend, when he can have him again his bed.

Arthur’s sweet around him, holding him the way Merlin knows Arthur wishes his daddy would’ve done, and Merlin does instead, pumps Arthur full with himself while Arthur’s whispering “daddy, daddy,” still, and Merlin replies with a kiss, the goodbye kiss daddy’s never given Arthur—pries Arthur’s full, soft lips apart to push his tongue inside and lick at Arthur’s tongue, wet and thick and unmoving inside.

“Daddy’s here,” Merlin’s saying back, “daddy’s here,” stupidly, like he’s stupid for Arthur, stupid for his innocent, untouched skin while he’s moving his hips in eager, wonderful little jerks, spilling himself inside to the sound of Arthur’s sobbing.