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"This is my servant, Merlin. He'll be more than happy to help you with anything you need."
"Great," the noble huffed, throwing his luggage at him, "you can start by taking my things to my chambers."
Merlin glanced at Arthur, eyebrows raised in a silent snark, but turned to lead the nobles to their temporary room inside of the castle. Arthur huffed, biting the tip of his tongue to tell them not to treat him like that. But his father was right there. He couldn't do that.
"Are you ready for tomorrow's tournament, Arthur? There's going to be a lot of people there." Arthur nodded, "Yes, father, of course." Urther smiled, smacking his sons back, "Great. Then let us prepare for the festivities, yes?" Arthur nodded, turning to walk back up the stairs.
*~*
Arthur glanced up from his sword, "Merlin, is something wrong? You've been awfully quiet." Merlin turned to him, offering a quick smile even Arthur could tell was fake. "Everything is alright, sire. I'm just tired," he explained, setting the pillow back down. "Sir Kilgore and Sir Ian were running you around all day," he asked.
Merlin tilted his head in the same way he does when he's not saying the entire truth. "Something like that," he mumbled. Maybe it was the way his voice seemed hoarse or the flash of pain Arthur saw in his eyes, but he felt like hugging him.
He sighed, "Alright that will be all for tonight, Merlin. You're dismissed. Go get some sleep." "But sire I haven't even properly dressed you for the night. I —" "That was an order, Merlin. Go get some rest."
He could've sworn he saw tears weld in his eyes, but he blinked before he could be sure. He bowed slightly, "Thank you, sire. Goodnight." Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin's sudden politeness, but didn't feel the need to tease him about it right now. There was just a nagging feeling he couldn't place. "Merlin," the boy looked up at him and he felt himself smile, "Goodnight." Merlin returned the smile — this one seemed more genuine, but Arthur could tell he was still hiding something — and turned to leave.
Arthur sighed when the door shut. If Merlin wasn't back to his usual banter about how annoying Arthur was tomorrow, he'd be worried. Right now he needed to focus on the tournament.
*~*
"Merlin, where is my sleeve?"
He turned back to the table, scanning over it. "I'm sorry sire," he whispered, "I'll go get it." Arthur gently grabbed his shoulder, "Don't worry about it. I can go one day without it. Just finish helping me get ready." "Are you sure? It won't take but a couple of minutes for me to grab it." Arthur smiled, "I'm fine, really. But I can't reach this latch over here." He was pointing to his stop rib, which was, in fact, dangling off to the side.
"Where would you be without me," he whispered, walking back over to Arthur. "Probably in a very awkward position trying to buckle this." Merlin snorted, "That image is engraved into my head now." Arthur hummed, "Don't make it a reality now, Merlin." He smiled, grabbing both sides of the belt.
"Merlin!"
Arthur glanced at Merlin; seeing the boy jump made a wave of anger flash over him. The flap opened and Sir Kilgore walked in, next to Sir Ian. "Oh there you are," Sir Ian smiled.
It was subtle, but Arthur could tell how Merlin shifted behind him slightly. Like he wanted to be protected. Which really made Arthur blood boil. Who the hell could diminish Merlin down to this in a mater of hours?
"We need your help, Merlin."
Arthur felt Merlin's hand grab his chain covering. He doesn't remember feeling so violent so fast before.
He cleared his throat, "Sorry gentlemen, he's helping me. I'm sure you two can help each other." "Didn't you say he'd be happy to help us? It'd rude to deny such a request, your highness," Sir Kilgore smiled. Arthur felt his arm go around Merlin, pushing him back gently so his body was in front of his own. "It's also rude to not listen to a Prince, Sir Kilgore. Please, leave."
Sir Kilgore and Sir Ian looked at each other, scoffed, and left.
Arthur waited a moment before he lowered his arm and turned to Merlin, "What did they do to you, Merlin?" "Nothing," he mumbled. His voice said one thing, but the tears in his eyes and the way his hand trembled said another.
"Merlin —"
"I'm sorry, Arthur," he whispered, closing his eyes. His hands moved from his shoulders to his cheeks, gently wiping the tears off. "Merlin . . . What did they do to you?" He sniffled, reaching down to grab the hime of his shirt — he just noticed Merlin wasn't wearing his brown jacket. But, thinking back to it, he wasn't wearing it last night either. Which was extremely weird to him.
He lifted his shirt and Arthur slowly removed his hand from the boys face, letting them fall to his side as Merlin slowly turned around.
His back was covered in . . . scratches? No. Those weren't scratches. Those were . . .
Oh fuck no.
"They whipped you?!" He didn't mean to yell, he really didn't, and he regretted it the moment Merlin flinched. Arthur took a deep breath, gently grabbing the edge oh Merlin's shirt and laying it back over his back. "Has Gaius seen these?" Merlin shook his head.
He turned around, looking at the ground like he did something wrong. Arthur draped his arm around his neck, "Well now is as good a time as ever, right? Let's get him to check these out. Maybe ease the pain." "But, sire, the tournament starts soon. You need to be out there." "I don't care. You're coming with me and we're going to find Gaius," Arthur mumbled. "But —"
"Nope. Let's go. Don't make me carry you like a princess, Merlin. Because I will." Merlin's cheeks flushed a dark shade of pink despite himself and Arthur couldn't help but smile at the sight.
*~*
"That should do it, Merlin. But I would advise sleeping on your stomach or side for the next week and taking that medicine. It should heal up fast enough. Given . . ."
They glanced at each other. "Given what Gaius," Arthur asked. "Given he doesn't get whipped again, sire." He clenched his jaw, "That's definitely not going to happen." He looked down at Merlin, "You're not to leave my side until this tournament is over, understand?"
Merlin nodded, smiling softly, "Yes sire." Arthur smiled, "Great. Let's go then. I'm sure I have an infuriated father to deal with and an excuse to make for the crowd." Merlin nodded, standing up. "Arthur, do you think it's possible to borrow some pillows for him until his back gets better," Gaius asked. Arthur thought for a second, "Yeah. That should be fine. Thank you Gaius." Gaius nodded, "Of course, sire."
He bowed slightly as they turned to leave.
*~*
"Can I ask you a question, Merlin?"
He turned to look at Arthur, wearing his usual 'Merlin' look; it relieved him to see him more comfortable. "Your jacket . . . What happened to it," he asked, "I thought you had it on yesterday morning." Merlin nodded, turning back to looking in front of them; into the empty hallways. "It got damaged when they . . . I feel weird without it."
Arthur frowned, grabbing his shoulder, "Come here." Merlin turned to him, eyebrow raised, "Huh?" "My chambers, come with me to my chambers." Merlin smiled softly and nodded.
*~*
"How does it feel," Arthur asked. "Big," Merlin mumbled, lifting his arms out to show the difference in sizes. Arthur smiled at the demonstration, "Does it feel okay on your back?" Merlin nodded, "Yeah. But it's not necessary, Arthur. Besides I know someone knows this is your jacket. If they see me wearing it —"
"Nothing will happen because I will not let it. Now we really should get going. Im sure the longer I'm gone the more furious my father gets." Merlin smiled, "Thank you, Arthur."
Arthur returned the smile, "You're welcome."
*~*
Arthur sighed, falling face first on to his bed. "Merlin, have you ever wanted to just disappear?" "Every time I wake up in the morning and remember I have to spend it with you."
He smiled, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him, "Shut up." Merlin smiled, catching it and sending it back to him.
"Is there anything else you need, sire?"
Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Where do you plan on going?" Merlin pointed to the door, "To my chambers. Unless there's something else you need." Arthur sat up, "What part of ‘you're not to leave my side till this tournament is over’ do you not understand?" "Apparently all of it," he mumbled. Arthur smiled, "I'm not risking you running into them and me not being there. Your staying here. Unless you have a problem with that."
Merlin smiled softly, shaking his head, "No sire." Arthur returned the smile, sliding over his bed, putting the pillow he had thrown at Merlin to his right. "Well, get in bed then. I'm tired." Merlin raised an eyebrow, "In your bed?" Arthur rolled his eyes, "No in the invisible bed right in front of you." Merlin smirked, "Worried they might kidnap me if I'm not by your side all night?"
At least he's back to his usual banter, Arthur thought. But, to his own dismay, Merlin wasn't that far off. He really didn't want to take any chances because if they touched him . . . well Arthur just might kill them. Scratch that; will kill them.
When Merlin laid down he stayed as close to the edge as he could without falling off. In case someone barged in, he could easily roll off. I mean . . . what would they think was going on with the Princes servant in his bed — with the Prince right beside him?!
He would get killed. Maybe hung and burned, just so Uther could watch him suffer. Though, he doubted Arthur would let that happen. But what could he do? If he broke him out he'd be wanted for treason. Where they going to run away and live on a farm together or something?
*~*
"Who am I fighting today father?"
"Your first match is against Sir Hunter. Your second match is against Sir Kilgore. I except you to show up for both of them."
Arthur nodded, bitting the inside of his cheek. Just his name made his blood boil, no way he was letting him walk away.
When Uther left, Merlin started to buckle his armor once more. "Promise me you won't do anything rash, Arthur," he mumbled. "I can't do that. I don't like breaking my promises," he huffed. Merlin smiled, "Then . . . just don't kill him, okay?" "I might," he replied.
"Arthur."
"He deserves worse than death, Merlin. He's lucky I'm giving him an easy way out."
Merlin huffed, smacking his back, "No." "Did you just —"
"Smack you? Yes I did. Are you going to listen to me?"
Arthur grabbed his helmet, "I'm a Prince. I don't have to listen to anyone." He placed the helmet on his head. "You arrogant prat," Merlin spat. Arthur smiled, "Yup."
"I want you to stay with Gaius while I'm competing, okay? Don't go anywhere else, Merlin. I'm serious."
Merlin huffed, "Fine."
Arthur smiled, ruffling his hair before walking out.
*~*
When his fight with Sir Hunter was over, Arthur went back to his tent.
He sighed, sliding his helmet off, "Merlin, I need — . . . Merlin?" He huffed, "Don't tell me he's actually mad about earlier."
He shook his head, walking over to his table, where a knife stuck a piece of paper down. He placed his helmet beside of it, tearing it off and brining it up so he could read it better.
'If you want him back alive and unharmed, flunk the match.'
"Merlin."
Fine, he thought, if that's how they want to play, let's play.
He took a deep breath and grabbed his sword. Now there was nothing stopping him, he was going to kill Sir Kilgore.
*~*
The lining in his helmet made it easier to focus on his opponent, so, of course, he didn't put it on. He wanted to watch Sir Ian's face as he stabbed his friend.
The thought scarred him a little — the new found anger and need to protect Merlin at all costs — but doubt didn't stop him from walking out into that arena.
This wasn't a free-for-all where death was welcomed kind of tournament; it was a once-over kind. But he wouldn't mind breaking the rules if it meant Sir Kilgore death. Especially by his hands.
The crowd cheering seemed muffled when Arthur saw the smirk on his opponents face. He wanted to chop his head off right that second, but restrained himself until his father came back out.
"This match will decide who moves on to the semi-finals tomorrow," he sat down, "Let the match begin."
Arthur doesn't really register what he's doing anymore. All he knows is he held his sword with one intent: to kill.
He felt the way his leather-covered hand wrapped tightly — maybe too tightly — around the grip of his sword as he raises it with all the force he needs to.
He doesn't know if the scream he hears is his own or someone else's, but he doesn't really care.
Their swords clash and Sir Kilgore is still wearing that stupid smirk; he's had enough.
He brings his left knee up, which seems to catch the man off guard.
Advantage: if he doesn't think of his next move, his opponent won't know it.
Disadvantage: he's to blinded by rage to think.
When Sir Kilgore falls to the ground, the match is technically over, but Arthur doesn't care. He lunges, knees falling open as he landed on top of him. He brings his sword to his front, faintly registering the gasps from the crowd around him.
He wraps both hands around the grip, sending it down in the direction of his heart with no intention of stopping.
But . . . he did.
He huffed, still blinded by anger, and tried again. But his arms wouldn't move.
He looked over to his right, seeing Merlin looking at him; his eyes holding a gold hue. It took a moment to register everything.
One; Merlin was okay. Two; Merlin's eyes was glowing. Three; he couldn't move. Four; Merlin was the reason he couldn't move. Five; Merlin was using magic. And finally six; Merlin was using magic in front of his father.
When he saw the gold fade, he felt the force on his arms loosen and he turned to look at his father. His eyebrows were furrowed like he was mad, but his eyes showed concern.
He huffed, dropping his sword to his side. He looked down at Sir Kilgore, still that faint urge to show disgust lingering. He stood up, panting. He didn't know why he was panting, but he was.
He looked down at Sir Kilgore, gathered the moister in his mouth and spat on his face. He took one last deep breath and turned on his heel, ignoring the worried stares from the audience.
When he reached Merlin, there were so many things he wanted to ask him, but decided on the safe option, "Are you alright?" His face flashed from confusion, to shock, to anger, and finally to calmness. Good, he's playing along, Arthur thought.
Merlin nodded, "Gwen found me. And lucky for you she did or —"
Time slowed when Merlin stopped talking. Arthur saw the way Merlin grabbed both of his arms, shoving him down. He felt something sharp graze through his armor and slicing the skin on his shoulder. He winced; his automatic reaction to look up and see Merlin getting struck by it.
Again, anger boiled in his blood. Because he knew exactly who threw that at him.
"An attempt on the Princes life has been made!"
And then all Hell broke loose.
*~*
"Why are you doing this," Arthur asked as Merlin wrapped a bandage around his shoulder. "Because Gaius is busy," he mumbled. "No that's not — . . . Can't you just heal it?"
Merlin glanced up at him, before returning his gaze to his work, "Healing magic isn't my forte, sorry." Arthur shook his head, "Then how are you able to move your arm right now?" "Gaius applied some numbing cream to it before he bandaged it. I can't feel it," he mumbled.
Silence lingered for a moment longer. Arthur couldn't stand the silence. Especially when Merlin was right beside of him.
"You're a moron — using magic out in public like that. In front of my father. You could've gotten yourself killed."
"I couldn't stand by and watch you kill him, Arthur. You would've regretted it for the rest of your life. You're not a killer; you're a savior," Merlin whispered, grabbing the tape to his side.
Arthur watched Merlin tape the bandage down with a look of pure admiration. But he was right. Arthur wasn't a killer. Hell, before this afternoon, he had never had a thought of murdering someone out of anger. It was always self defense or to protect his kingdom. Never out of anger. Never just to watch his friends face shrink in horror. Never to . . . protect Merlin.
Speaking of which . . . When did he feel the need to protect Merlin so much so that he would sacrifice his face, his pride, and probably his kingdom to see him unharmed? When did he start feeling the light touches of Merlin as something more than just . . . well, touches?
He doesn't remember.
But, he doesn't hate it.
He doesn't hate the way Merlin glares at him or the way he smacks him when he's annoyed. He doesn't hate the names Merlin throws at him — even if most of them sound completely fabricated — or the way his eyes squint in annoyance every time he does it. He doesn't hate the way Merlin smiles at him with that one certain smile Arthur has never seen him use for anyone else before. He doesn't hate the crinkle of he nose when he laughs — what a beautiful laugh. He doesn't hate the way Merlin relaxes at Arthur's touch in dire situations.
He doesn't hate any of it.
In fact . . . he might love it. He might love the insults and the laughs. All of it. Every single thing that makes Merlin, Merlin.
He might love Merlin.
"Thank you, Merlin."
Merlin looks up at him, smiling, "You're welcome, sire." Arthur smiled softly. Merlin really is something, he thinks, something special.
Merlin stood up, grabbing the tape, "Anything else, sire?" "Where are you going," Arthur asked. "Back to my chambers, sire," Merlin mumbled. "But the tournament isn't over," Arthur replied.
The two men had been delt with, but the thought of Merlin not being by his side . . . after everything that's happened . . . was agonizing.
"But Sir Ian and Sir Kilgore are locked in their cells. They're being delt with treason charges, sire. I see no point in —"
"Please?"
He's a prince. He shouldn't have to beg his manservant to stay with him. He shouldn't have to worry about his servant at all.
But it's been a weird, confusing, anger-filled day. He's found out a lot about himself, about Merlin, too.
Merlin doesn't mean to look at him with pitty, and it's obvious Arthur doesn't take it well, so he speaks, "Of course, Arthur." Arthur smiles, leaning back on the bed, waiting patiently for Merlin to join him.
When he does, Arthur pulls him close, gently running a finger over the whip wounds. "Did they hurt you anymore when they took you?"
Merlin was glad Arthur couldn't see how red his face was, that would be awkward to explain. "No. But they were planning on it. Too bad they're in jail." Arthur smiled fondly, "So why didn't you use magic to backlash them after they did this to you?" "And have them run to Uther? He'd have me burned faster than you can say ‘magic’. I couldn't do that to you. I couldn't leave you."
Arthur stopped his administrations, "Turn around. Please." Merlin nodded, more to himself than to Arthur, and slowly — and very painfully because he forgot to take the numbing medicine for his back — turned around to face him.
There was no pillow. There was nothing keeping them separate; their noses mere inches apart.
"I wouldn't let him do that. I'd break you out if I had to." Merlin smiled, "You'd be committing treason." "That's fine," Arthur hummed, "We can run away and live on a farm together."
Merlin snorted, "A farm? What so I can do all the work?" Arthur smiled, "More like seventy percent." Merlin laughed quietly, "I guess that's better than all of it."
Arthur thought for a second before he spoke. His words were delicate, easily misunderstood or interpreted wrong. "I don't know what I would do with out you, Merlin. I . . . I couldn't imagine you not being here, with me. The mere thought of someone hurting you angers me. I guess we saw what happened when someone actually does. It . . ."
He curses himself quietly. He's never been good at speaking his emotions. He's always better at acting on his emotions — which has been demonstrated several times in the past two days.
So, he decided then and there to stop talking with his mouth and to start talking with his actions.
He leaned in slowly as to give Merlin time to lean back — to run away. So when he didn't, he fluttered his eyes shut and kissed him. Softly. Gently.
Merlin almost instantly melted into the kiss — it took him a few seconds to register Arthur was actually kissing him — letting his eyes fall shut.
Arthur hummed, settling his hand down on Merlin's hip, rubbing his thumb gently against the bare skin.
They pulled apart slowly, almost delicately. Merlin smiled, "You have always been better at talking with actions. That mouth of yours doesn't know when to stop." Arthur smiled, "Neither does yours, apparently."
Merlin's smile widened and he leaned in for another kiss; to which Arthur happily accepted.
Merlin hummed, adjusting himself, and shifting so he was straddling Arthur's stomach, letting his arms cage around him. He pulled back again, a little more gently than last time, letting his eyes open to look into Arthur's.
His usual ice-blue eyes seemed clouded. Merlin couldn't quiet tell what it was that clouded them, but they were still beautiful.
He cleared his throat, "Sorry. I kind of got a little . . ."
"Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
He smiled and nodded, leaning over as if to get off. But suddenly Arthur's hand cupped his hip, stopping him. He looked back at Arthur — his eyes seemed darker.
"Merlin . . . Can you stay? I . . . I'm sorry."
He raised an eyebrow, shifting so he was back on Arthur's stomach, about to ask what he was sorry for, when Arthur's breath hitched.
Merlin felt a hinge of pride and arousal hit his lower stomach. "Really Arthur?" "What can I say? I'm a very easily pleased man," Arthur huffed. Merlin smiled, "Takes some earnest, I see. Are you so easily pleased with everyone?"
Arthur hummed, "You started this, Merlin, you're the one — probably the only one — I'm so easily pleased with." Merlin hummed, "If I knew I could please my Prince so easily I would've gotten injured ages ago." Arthur rolled his eyes, letting his other hand rest on his hip, "Your injures are not what's doing it for me — it's your initiative to please your Prince." "I always wish to please my Prince, sire. Do you require my assistance?"
"It wouldn't be unwelcomed," Arthur mumbled. Merlin smiled, gently placing his hands on Arthur's bare chest, and leaned down to reconnect their lips once more. Arthur immediately melted into it, his grip on Merlin's hips tightening slightly. Merlin hummed, casting a spell in his mind that numbed the feeling in his back. It was temporary, it wouldn't last as long as Gaius's cream or the medicine, but it would work long enough for what he had in mind.
He arched his back, letting his ass slide over Arthur's slow growing erection. Arthur whimpered as if he hadn't been touched in years — like this was the best sensation he ever felt.
Merlin hummed again, separating from the kiss, panting softly.
"Can I . . . Try something?" Arthur looked up at him, "Sure." "It involves magic, so if you're not comfortable with it . . ." Arthur shook his head, bringing one of his hands to cup Merlin's cheek, "Have you ever used it for anything bad?" "No, Arthur, of course not. Only to protect you, protect this kingdom. I promise," he whispered. Arthur smiled, "Then I have nothing to fear. I trust you with my life, Merlin. Just . . . be gentle, okay?"
Merlin smiled, shaking his head, "You won't feel it." Arthur nodded, "Can I watch? You're eyes are really pretty when they're gold." Merlin smiled, feeling his cheeks fill his blood. This was all so new to him — Arthur knowing he has magic. He's expecting an interrogation after his wounds has healed, maybe even tomorrow, but right now his prince has requested his assistance and he really doesn't want to get off of him to take off his trousers.
He took a deep breath, letting his eyes fall open afterwards. Arthur was looking at him with such love that Merlin almost forgot the spell, but quickly realized exploding their pants would not be the best demonstration of gentle magic. He cast the incantation in his head, listening to Arthur's breath hitch when his eyes rolled over with gold — and maybe, also, because his trousers slid off of him.
Arthur groaned, letting his eyes travel down, seeing both of their completely naked bodies — groaning again. Merlin smiled sweetly, "You might be the prince, Arthur, but I'm the one in control tonight, understand?" Arthur nodded, letting his hand fall back to Merlin's hip. Merlin smiled, placing a quick, gentle kiss on his lips before leaning away again.
"Merlin —"
"Shh . . . I got you."
Arthur nearly whimpered, but bit his tongue. That was too weird. He's the prince of Camelot — even if he did surrender to Merlin — he shouldn't make sounds like that.
"Arthur," Merlin's voice seemed deeper than usual; Arthur's eyes shot open to look at him, "Are you embarrassed by your beautiful sounds? I can deal with that." Arthur opened his mouth to say something when Merlin's eyes flashed gold again and a wave of pressure washed over him. "What . . ."
Merlin smiled, leaning down to Arthur's ear to whisper, "Now you can be as loud as you want and no one, except me, will hear you. And I want to hear you." Arthur nodded, Merlin's breath sending a slight shiver down his spine. Merlin hummed, kissing under Arthur's ear.
He began to plant gentle kisses down his neck and to his collarbone.
"Merlin," Arthur whined, his cock straining for friction that Merlin was so obviously denying, "Please." Merlin hummed again, but made no move to go any faster.
He decided he would leave exploring Arthur's kinks for another time, and made his trail of kisses down his chest and stomach. When he got to his abs, he slipped out his tongue, letting it trace its way down the line until he was met with a small patch of hair. Arthur whined, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him.
Merlin smiled again, "Want you to watch me, Arthur. Please?" Arthur calmed his breathing, and nodded. Merlin hummed, more to himself than to acknowledge Arthur.
He shifted lower, finally eye level with his princes cock; which was red and leaking with precum. Merlin almost pitted it — it looked so neglected. He looked up, making sure Arthur was looking at him — which he was. He offered a quick smile, before turning his attention back to what was in front of him.
He wrapped his hand around the base of Arthur's cock, reveling in the chocked out sob Arthur let out. He leaned forward, licking the precum off of the tip. Arthur moaned, his grip on the sheets tighter than before. Merlin's eyes flashed at his hands, feeling a little daring. His free hand reached for Arthur's hand, catching the man by surprise. "Merlin —"
"It's okay, Arthur. I'm not made of glass. You . . . you want to?"
If possible, his eyes seemed to get darker, but he nodded, "Please." Merlin smiled sweetly, guiding Arthur's hand into his hair, "Let loose, Arthur. I know I am."
Merlin took a deep breath, then leaned forward to wrap his lips around the tip. Arthur moaned, his grip in Merlin's hair tightening almost immediately. Merlin hummed, licking the precum that was spilling out before making his way down. Arthur groaned at the feeling of Merlin's mouth swallowing his down; he wanted to buck into it. Get lost in it. But he didn't want to hurt Merlin.
Merlin's eyes flashed up to meet his and his hand wandered to Arthur's thigh, tapping gently. "Are —" he groaned "fuck, Merlin. Are you sure?" His eyes flashed over with challenge before returning to their lust clouded blue.
He bucked into his mouth, gently at first, but quickened his pace when he knew Merlin could take it.
He hummed, casting a silent spell for oil, which appeared in his hand. With Arthur holding his head and loosing himself in his mouth, his hands were free.
He popped open the corkscrew, letting the oil run down his fingers. He knew Arthur would complain about the mess later, but he was a little preoccupied to notice. He cast another spell and the oil was gone.
He used his clean hand to rub the oil on his fingers before guiding them behind him.
He took a deep breath, and slowly inserted his finger, moaning softly. Arthur's ear twitched at the sound and he let his eyes drift a little further down. He groaned, "Merlin . . ."
His eyes fluttered up to meet his gaze; Arthurs clouded eyes looking directly at him. He moaned, slowly inserting a second finger. Arthur whimpered, wanting nothing more than for it to be his fingers Merlin was getting off on and not his own.
Merlin felt one of Arthur's fingers twitch and almost felt sorry for him. Almost. In all of his fantasies it never ended up like this (though it never started out with Arthur caressing his wounds either).
He knows he should stretch himself more, but he was getting as impatient as Arthur was. So he slowly pulled out his fingers, holding back the whine that wanted to escape.
He leaned back, chuckling at the whimper Arthur let out. He crawled back up, connecting their lips in a feverish kiss. Arthur groaned, his hands wrapping around Merlin's hips once again. He smiled into the kiss; he didn't know what Arthur's deal with his hips where, but he didn't mind.
He leaned back, panting softly, "Are you ready?" Arthur nodded quickly. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you that?" Merlin smiled again, shaking his head softly.
He leaned back, reaching behind him to grab Arthur's cock. He lifted himself up and slowly lowered himself on to Arthur's cock. He hissed at the stretch, but otherwise stayed quiet as he lowered himself. Arthur's grip on his hips tightened and he bit his lower lip.
When he was fully seated, he inhaled sharply, letting out a shaky breath. "Are you okay, Merlin," Arthur asked. He nodded slowly, "Just . . . give me a second." "I can handle it from here if you need me too. I don't want you to hurt yourself." Merlin smiled, "It's fine, Arthur." Arthur nodded, rubbing his thumbs gently across Merlin’s boney hips; he smiled.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. Merlin smiled, “Not for much longer. I’m going to have scars all over my back after a couple of weeks.” Arthur smiled, “You’re still going to be beautiful, Merlin. You always have been to me, nothing will change that.” “I doubt that,” he whispered. Arthur hummed, “I can believe it’s true for the both of us.” Merlin smiled, leaning down to gently connect their lips.
He leaned back, looking at Arthur. This moment seemed so surreal to him, no matter how weird that sounded.
He shifted his weight and adjusted his knees, lifting himself up till jus the tip was in before slowly sitting down. He moaned quietly before repeating the action. Arthur groaned, tightening his hold on his hips once more. “Merlin . . . Can I . . . Please?” He nodded, lifting himself back up. As he sat back down, Arthur lifted his hips, meeting his pace as slowly and gently as possible; both letting out a noise of approval.
Their pace went on for a few minutes before Arthur felt a twist in his stomach. “Merlin . . . I’m about to —” “Yeah,” he interrupted, “Me too.” Arthur’s hands guided Merlin up, catching the young Warlock by surprise, before slowly, yet harshly, lowering him back down. Merlin moaned, hands scrambling to Arthur’s thighs — grabbing.
Arthur groaned at the feeling of his fingernails digging into his thighs and lifted Merlin up once more.
“Fuck,” he huffed, “Arthur.”
It only took a couple more thrusts before Merlin felt his release close. “Arthur,” he whined, “Arthur I’m close.” Arthur moaned deeply, “Do it.” He whimpered as he was lifted back up.
When Arthur brought him back down, he moaned loudly, feeling himself release. Arthur held him there, thumbs gently stroking his hips once again, easing Merlin out of his state of bliss.
When Merlin had finished, he slowly fluttered his eyes open, looking down at Arthur’s chest — painted with him.
“Do you mind if I . . . I mean can I . . .” Merlin smiled, leaning down to connect their lips once more in a quick, gentle kiss, before leaning back. “Go ahead, Arthur.” He groaned, lifting Merlin back up once again.
It only took a few more thrusts before Arthur squeezed his eyes shut and moaned deeply, stilling his movements once again. Merlin placed gentle kisses along his neck; rubbing his hands caressingly up and down his bicep to sooth his tense muscles as he came down from his high.
He panted heavily, gently pulling Merlin off of his cock; both wincing as he did so. He gently laid Merlin to his right, still caressing his hip. He kissed him softly, smiling.
“Hey,” Merlin whispered, “Wanna see something that will come in handy in the future?” Arthur nodded, watching as Merlin’s eyes flashed the color of gold — he suddenly felt a lot cleaner. He looked down at his chest; it was clean.
He laughed, leaning in to kiss Merlin again, “You plan on sound that again in the future?” Merlin hummed, “I plan on doing it a lot in the future.” He smiled, “Wanna make this a regular thing?” “I don’t know,” he shrugged, “You gonna try to kill the next person that hurts me?” “Probably.” His answer was instant, but honest.
Merlin smiled, “I love you.” Arthur stared at him in awe, but smiled, “Merlin, you’re an idiot. But . . . I love you too.”