It's a game at first. What begins as a drunken one-time joke,
(Merlin dances over to the chair that sits in front of the hearth and lowers himself into it with feigned arrogance. "I am King Merlin, and I say, to the stocks with you!"
Arthur nearly spits out the bit of mead he was drinking when he starts giggling. "For a king named Merlin, that was certainly a good impression of my father."
Merlin tilts his chin up and looks down his nose at the prince sprawled on the floor. "I don't recall giving you permission to speak, peasant. For that you shall be punished," he says mock threateningly.
Arthur wiggles his eyebrows. "I shall? Please Your Grace, inform me of my punishment." He bows in head in mock humbleness.
"Hmm," Merlin contemplates. Even in his drunken state he knows he shouldn't push his limits. He looks around for something silly Arthur can do and is finally struck with an idea. "You shall lick my boot. It being only the first time you've spoken out of turn, it needn't be the sole."
Arthur rolls his eyes but, to Merlin's surprise, gets up without a single argument and licks a stripe from the toe to the top of Merlin's boot. When he looks up from under long blonde lashes at Merlin, it's with eyes twinkling mischief and a subtle but visible smirk. Merlin's cock jumps in his breeches and he has to swallow before letting out a nervous laugh.)
quickly becomes a reoccurring theme in their intoxicated encounters. Every time Arthur swallows just the slightest bit of alcohol, he is almost sure to beg Merlin to play "the game," like some sort of spoiled child. Each time, Merlin pushes further the limits of his temporary control, and each time Arthur surprises him with what he will do. Arthur will sometimes later insist they switch places, pinning Merlin as servant once more, if only to reassure some part of him that needs to remind himself it's only a joke. Most of time, however, Arthur seems to like relinquishing some power, and Merlin is (possibly too) willing to play along.
It moves from game to stress relief after Uther dies and Arthur takes the throne.
"Do you remember that game we used to always play after drinking? Where you and I switched places?"
Merlin blinks. "Y-Yes, sire."
Arthur looks up at Merlin, Arthur's empty breakfast tray in his hands. "I miss playing that. Is that terribly immature of me?"
Merlin sets the tray down and goes to Arthur, kneeling before him and placing his hands on Arthur's knees. "You are under a lot of pressure, Arthur," Merlin drops the title, to let Arthur know he is speaking to him as a friend now. "I understand how such power can be overwhelming. I will take it for you gladly, if only for a little while.")
And that's where it is on the day of the council meeting that Arthur gets so frustrated with he dismisses everyone halfway through. Everyone but Merlin, of course.
"Is everything alright, sire?"
Arthur pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs as the hall doors shut behind the guards. "I just...need some time to myself."
Merlin has long known that "time to myself" does not exclude him. He also knows what that might possibly mean about their relationship, but neither of them will comment on. At least he knows what he hopes it means.
"But is everything alright?" Merlin repeats the question. He puts a comforting hand on Arthur's shoulder, and when Arthur melts into the touch he can tell what's coming next.
"Do you think we could..." Arthur begins, hesitant.
"Here?" They've never played outside of Arthur's chambers, and just thinking about Arthur kneeling before him on the actual throne sends a jolt of arousal downward.
"Why not? I am the king, no one will come in without my word."
Merlin's lips twitch up before he gets control of his features. "Oh, but that's where you're mistaken," he says lowly. "I am the king, and if I want them to come in and watch, I won't hesitate to order them. Now, out of my seat." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder and Arthur gets up quickly. Merlin always thinks it's a bit ridiculous that Arthur look so royal and grand even as he kneels before him, but the fact has never bothered Arthur. It isn't the clothing but the role reversal that Arthur focuses on whenever they play.
"What does Your Grace command?" Arthur asks with a slight smile, the tension already leaving his shoulders.
Merlin's feet are aching from standing at Arthur's side for so long, so Merlin begins there. It wouldn't be the first time. "My feet are a bit sore." He extends his leg and Arthur wastes no time taking off the leather boot. Already Merlin's heart starts racing; he loves any time Arthur touches him and their game offers opportunities for Merlin to test his boundaries, though he would never order Arthur to do anything he didn't want to.
When Arthur's thumbs dig into the soft flesh on the sole of Merlin's foot, Merlin lets out a contented sigh. Arthur is surprisingly good at massaging feet, though to be honest Merlin hasn't found something Arthur isn't good at yet. It made him a bit envious at first, but then he saw how he could use it to his advantage.
Arthur works methodically, moving from the heel up to Merlin's toes, not commenting on the calluses that have appeared since the last time he did this. He does say, eventually, "You should take better care of yourself, Your Grace. I'm sure Gaius has something for these." Then, without further warning, he brings his mouth to Merlin's littlest toe and sucks it in, wrapping his tongue around it. Merlin inhales sharply and jerks back in surprise, but Arthur only looks up at him that way he sometimes does, smirking ever so slightly (even with Merlin's toe between his lips). Merlin has to admit, it's something he fantasized about, but he never thought it would actually happen. And now that it has, he can feel blood rushing to fill his traitorous cock and his breeches becoming tighter.
Arthur moving on to the other foot allows Merlin to shift just enough to cover his building erection with his tunic. Arthur gives this foot the same treatment, starting from the heel and working his way up, until finally slipping a toe inside his mouth. Merlin's heart goes into panic mode and he only just manages to calm his breathing to hide how much it really affects him.
Arthur puts Merlin's socks and boots back on with obvious care and Merlin thinks again how easy it would be to order Arthur to pull down his breeches and have a go at his cock. It wouldn't be the first time Merlin thought about those pretty lips wrapped around his hard length (the first time of course being the very moment he met Arthur) and there were certainly times when Merlin thought Arthur wouldn't object to it, maybe seemed to want it even, but he would not be the one to initiate the act. That would be taking their game too far.
As Arthur straps the boot, Merlin paws at his groin. His dick is uncomfortable in his already tight-fitting breeches and he tries to subtly readjust himself. What he doesn't take into account is Arthur's seemingly omniscient eyesight, and with a quirk of his lips that brings back the smirk, Arthur finishes strapping the boot and asks, "Is there anything else you would have me do, Your Grace?"
Merlin frowns to cover up his blush and says, "Yes, actually. It's a bit hot in here. Remove your shirt and fan me with it."
Arthur's smirk falters but he fixes it there along with his resolve. He undoes the clasp on his cloak, let's it fall to the ground, then pulls his tunic over his head in one smooth motion. Merlin briefly forgets how to breathe when he sees the bulge tenting the front of Arthur's own trousers. Arthur, nonetheless, does as ordered and begins fanning Merlin with his favourite white shirt. The smirk blossoms into a full blown grin when he sees the effect his state has on Merlin, who fidgets in the throne once more to readjust himself.
Long moments pass until Arthur becomes strangely serious. "Are you uncomfortable?" he asks somewhat timidly, which is definitely something Merlin has never seen him. Arthur doesn't continue until Merlin looks up at him wordlessly. Merlin can't quite be sure where Arthur is going, but he knows where he would like it to go. "I will...gladly serve you in any way I can," Arthur says, his eyes never leaving Merlin's.
Merlin doesn't trust his voice. His blood is pumping so fast he can hear it in his ears, and his body thrums with anticipation. Even so, he must keep up his display of control, and he doesn't feel he can if he speaks just now. Instead he lifts his hips just enough so that he can slide his breeches down and free his cock. When he's free and pointing straight at the ceiling, he gathers his courage and orders, "Suck."
Arthur drops his shirt and sinks to his knees in front of the throne. Merlin opens his legs wider and scoots his arse closer to the edge of the seat. Arthur licks his lips then promptly wraps his fingers around the base of Merlin's cock before lunging forward and taking it in his mouth.
He goes too far down at first, having underestimated the size of Merlin, and nearly gags. Merlin keeps a steady hand on Arthur's shoulder, occasionally lowering it to his arm and squeezing when Arthur performs particularly well with his tongue. He doesn't let himself curl his fingers in Arthur's hair because then it would be too easy to force his head down and bury his nose in the curls at the root, and he doesn't want to force anything on Arthur too soon. Besides, just seeing Arthur bobbing up and down on him like he's some rare delicacy has him on the edge of climax.
When Arthur reaches down to bring himself some relief, some part of Merlin that only comes out when commanding the dragon flares up. "Did I say you could touch yourself?" Arthur's hand halts in its path downward and slowly he places it back on Merlin's thigh. As if in apology, Arthur pulls off and presses wet kisses up the side of Merlin's cock. Arthur doesn't like having displeased the king, hates that he failed to remember his place.
Arthur lets his tongue explore the crevices of Merlin's sac before sucking one, then two balls into his mouth and moaning at the feel of his nose buried in Merlin's curls. The throaty vibrations nearly finish Merlin and he lets his head fall back as he shakily exhales Arthur's name.
With his hand, Arthur continues to stroke Merlin's cock, while the other still clutches the skin of Merlin's thigh. It's at this point that Merlin deems it alright to put his hands in Arthur's hair, and he does. He curls his fingers in the blond locks and pulls Arthur closer.
"Y-Yes, Arthur, just like—nngh—"
Merlin interrupts his praise when a wave of pleasure overwhelms his senses from Arthur's tongue returning to his prick. Arthur's arm snakes around Merlin's waist and they're both holding parts of each other to get impossibly closer. Arthur hollows his cheeks like a perfect whore and begins to suck Merlin in earnest, one hand still fondling Merlin's tightened balls. Such display of wanton affection allows Merlin to feel no more reluctance at gripping the back of Arthur's neck and forcing him down. Arthur relaxes his throat even more and lets Merlin's hands keep the pace of Merlin fucking his mouth.
When Arthur can feel Merlin's balls tighten even more and the first burst of come hits Arthur's tongue, he looks up with a pleading expression. Merlin is panting as he nods assent and Arthur continues to swallow every drop of Merlin's orgasm even as he lowers his hand to bring himself to completion. He takes his hard prick out of his breeches and begins to jerk himself so quickly his hand is a blur. Merlin gently lifts Arthur's head away from his spent cock and wipes away a drop of come with his thumb.
"That's it Arthur, come for me, come for your king," Merlin encourages.
Merlin's voice, low and commanding, full of power like Arthur has never heard it before, is what finally undoes him. Arthur comes hard into his hand, the white hot liquid spilling between his fingers onto the stone floor. For a short while, there is no sound but that of their heavy breathing.
Finally, Merlin clears his throat. "Wipe that up with your shirt," he orders. He thinks he's doing fairly well considering they'd never taken things this far before and he is inwardly panicking a bit. Arthur, to Merlin's pleasant surprise, doesn't hesitate to pick up his tunic where he'd dropped it and clean up the evidence of his orgasm.
After he's finished, Arthur looks up and the amount of trust Merlin sees in those eyes is staggering. It softens him and he momentarily forgets to keep up his hard, stoic exterior. He cups Arthur's cheek without thinking and, similarly without thought, Arthur tilts his head to lean into it.
Merlin gets lost in Arthur's eyes, forgets, honestly, that there is a person in front of him. He is startled when Arthur speaks.
"May I...request something?"
Merlin quirks an eyebrow and says, "You've been an obedient servant. What is it you request of me?"
That catches Merlin by surprise. It wasn't the first time Arthur had asked Merlin for something during their game (usually it was a bite of meat if they played during dinner, or to go to sleep if they played late into the night) but never had he asked for a kiss. Merlin hadn't even known Arthur wanted that, would never have guessed his dreams might become reality.
Arthur mistakes Merlin's shocked countenance for refusal. After all, having one's cock sucked doesn't always imply romantic attraction. He'd thought, however, that maybe, hopefully...
"I understand if you refuse. I just thought—"
Arthur blinks. "I...?"
"You may kiss me," Merlin says again, this time softer. "I want you to. Please."
He shifts back into his normal self to let Arthur know this is what he really wants, that it's not an act. He lifts his hips to pull his breeches back up and cover himself, then pats his thigh meaningfully. Arthur catches on and, with a small victorious smile, climbs onto Merlin's lap.
Arthur takes Merlin's face in his hands. "I have...wanted to do this for a while," he admits, brushing his nose against Merlin's.
Merlin lets out a shaky exhale that becomes a nervous chuckle. "Me too," he says. "Go ahead."
Arthur needs no further words of encouragement. He closes the short distance between them and presses a soft kiss to Merlin's lips. It changes when Merlin tilts his chin up and opens his mouth just slightly. Arthur dares to lick Merlin's bottom lip, and when that isn't met with disapproval, he pushes his tongue deeper in. At the same time he moves his hands to Merlin's ears and Merlin moans; partly because of Arthur's tongue exploring him, partly because he is sensitive behind his ears, and just a little bit because he's annoyed—they're ears, not handles.
When Arthur pulls away, Merlin chases him, not quite ready to stop kissing the lips he's dreamt about for years. Arthur laughs but allows it. It is, after all, what he requested.
The second kiss is mostly just sucking of lips and doesn't last as long as the first. Merlin pulls back, blushing guiltily at getting so into it. He's faintly reminded by a voice in his head that he's supposed to remain neutral and emotionless when they play their game, and he failed to do that till the very end this time. But this is not like any other time they've played, and Merlin isn't sure they're even playing anymore. At that moment it doesn't feel like either one of them holds more power than the other; it feels as though they're finally equals. Even if Arthur is still sitting on Merlin's lap like a child.
Recalling the fact makes Arthur suddenly heavier and Merlin squirms. "Well, that was fun and all, but you're rather heavy and I think I've lost feeling in my leg, so if you don't mind—"
Arthur flicks Merlin's ear to shut him up, but stands all the same. Merlin follows suit and groans as he rubs his arse.
"I don't know how you sit in that thing all day. My arse is numb," Merlin complains.
"It's not all day, and a true king can withstand discomfort for hours," Arthur explains.
"Oh?" Merlin raises a brow and leans in close. "I don't think I believe you. Perhaps we should test that theory."
Arthur catches the playful tone in Merlin's voice and accepts the challenge. "Perhaps we shall. Tie me to my bed later?" Merlin temporarily forgets how to breathe and Arthur laughs at the astonishment on Merlin's face. "But first, get me a new shirt. I'm not going to wear this one all the way to my chambers."
Merlin crosses his arms and smirks. "Yes, you are."
"Merlin," Arthur groans. "Don't be difficult."
"You'll wear the shirt, Arthur," Merlin repeats, this time with authority. The smirk is gone.
After a tense moment of eye contact, Arthur swallows hard then looks away. He picks up the discarded tunic—thankful that it's white—and says, "Right. Of course."
"Brilliant." Merlin smiles triumphantly as Arthur pulls the shirt over his head. "I'll meet you in your chambers soon. I just need to get something." Arthur's brow furrows so Merlin clarifies. "My other scarf. To tie your other wrist."
Arthur's mouth opens and closes comically as he searches for the right words. Finally he just laughs and shakes his head, then turns to leave.
When Merlin enters Arthur's chambers a short time later, Arthur is pretending to look over papers at his desk (and wearing a new tunic). He looks up at Merlin's entry and immediately spots the blue neckerchief peeking out of Merlin's jacket pocket. It's the one that brings out Merlin's eyes and that Merlin rarely wears because he seems to prefer the red one more.
Arthur isn't sure how to proceed so he takes his cues from Merlin. Up until today, they had kept everything separate. Now the game seemed to be bleeding into reality and Arthur was half-thrilled while also half-terrified. He trusted Merlin not to abuse the power he obviously already had over him—the whole shirt business had been a joke, at least Arthur thinks so—but still, Arthur likes to know where he stands in a situation, and at the moment, he has no idea.
Merlin pays Arthur no attention and begins to tidy up the room as if nothing had happened. Alright, Arthur thinks, if that's the way it's going to be, fine. He looks back down to the papers he wasn't really studying to begin with and the figures don't really register in his brain. Tomato shortage by one thousand less than last year's crop, sixty men lost over the past five months due to bandits and wild beasts, numbers and names that Arthur knows are meaningful and yet not as captivating as the beautiful man stirring the fire just three metres away.
As though reading Arthur's mind, Merlin looks up and Arthur fights the urge to gasp when the flicker of the flames dance across Merlin's skin, only intensifying the mischievous sparkle in Merlin's eyes. Caught in the act of staring, Arthur tries to hide his embarrassment with a scowl. Merlin bites the inside of his cheek but ends up laughing anyway.
Arthur continues to frown—though from Merlin's point of view it looks more like pouting—as Merlin drops the poker by the hearth and walks purposefully to where Arthur sits behind the desk. Arthur doesn't know what Merlin means to do until after Merlin's lips are pressed against his and Merlin's fingers curl in the hair at the base of his neck. He parts his lips and is rewarded with Merlin's tongue. Its presence pokes a fire of Arthur's own in his groin and he can't help but pull Merlin closer.
"Arthur," Merlin chides when the arms of the chair get in the way of him straddling his king. Still, Arthur tries. "Arthur," Merlin says more assertively.
"I want you, Merlin." Arthur sounds annoyed that Merlin keeps talking. Like the spoiled child he is on the inside, he wants Merlin now and is irritated at not being given what he wants immediately.
Merlin chuckles and kisses just below Arthur's jaw. "And you shall have me. But first we were going to test something, remember?"
Arthur's cock twitches and it's as though he can already feel his wrists restrained. "Yes."
"Good." Merlin moves to stand, and Arthur reluctantly lets him. "Now, strip."
Arthur pulls his tunic over his head as he stands and throws it aside carelessly. He does the same with his trousers and smallclothes until he's standing naked and half-hard in front of his desk. Merlin leans against the bedpost with his arms crossed, appreciating the view.
Under Merlin's intense gaze, Arthur's cock fills until it's fully erect. There is something remarkable about being under such scrutiny. Knowing that Merlin is looking, wanting, turns Arthur on like nothing else. He would give Merlin anything, everything, just as Merlin would do the same for him. Merlin is always there, serving and standing by his side even if the face danger, so Arthur knows Merlin is stronger than he appears to be. Part of Arthur wants to see it, gets a thrill out of being subject to this secretly powerful Merlin's will.
Standing there, naked and vulnerable, Arthur can only guess what Merlin means to do once he's been tied to the bed. This is a challenge after all; Arthur figured Merlin would suck him off and draw it out until he begged to be allowed to come, or something along those lines. He's never been fucked before, though once he started fancying Merlin he began wondering what it would be like. If that's what Merlin had in mind now...well, Arthur wouldn't be entirely opposed to the idea.
Arthur's imagination is running wild with various scenarios, so he's startled back to the present when Merlin says, low and suggestive, "Arthur. Would you kindly come here and lay on the bed?"
It isn't at all what Arthur expected to hear after the halting tone used when told to strip. This is more seductive but there's a subtle undertone of command as well. It's a voice that asks nicely, but isn't to be disobeyed. So Arthur walks to the bed and lays himself down right in the centre.
"Move up a bit. Back to the pillows," Merlin orders and Arthur does as he's told. "Good."
Merlin's hands move behind his neck and Arthur's heart races because he knows what's coming next. He watches with wide unblinking eyes as Merlin unties the red scarf and secures his wrist to the bedpost. Merlin does the same to the other with his blue one.
"Ah!" Arthur yelps when Merlin's hand in suddenly stroking his cock. "Merlin!"
Merlin flashes a wicked smile. "Just wanted to make sure you haven't lost interest." He twists his wrist and swipes the head of Arthur's cock with his thumb. Arthur is left breathless and panting. "You haven't, have you?"
Arthur opens his mouth to curse Merlin and call him all manner of names but stops himself just in time. That's what Merlin wants. That was the challenge. Arthur will submit and follow Merlin's orders, but he won't, he won't beg. Kings can withstand discomfort for hours, and that's just what he's going to prove.
"No, Merlin," Arthur says heatedly. "I still want you."
Merlin's smile broadens. "Brilliant."
Resisting the urge to beg becomes much more difficult after Merlin settles himself between Arthur's legs and takes Arthur's cock in his mouth. He sucks lazily with little to no tongue, only going down and coming back up with frustrating slowness. The little tongue-work he does put in is quick flicks to the slit when he reaches the head, so sudden that Arthur barely feels them and he squirms in his restraints. Merlin is lucky that Arthur's hands are tied because otherwise he'd force Merlin's head down until his dick hit the back of Merlin's throat and those perfect lips were stretched so wide they'd chap. Arthur writhes and moans beneath Merlin's teasing efforts, but he does not beg for more, however much he needs to.
"Mmmm," Merlin hums around Arthur's cock before slipping it out. He continues to stroke Arthur with his hand while pressing wet kisses on the inside of Arthur's thigh, tantalisingly close to Arthur's balls. "You taste so good, Arthur. God, and you're so hard for me. You love this, don't you? You've probably wanted this all along. I should have told you to suck me off earlier, I just didn't...Fuck, the things I want to do to you." Merlin closes his lips around one of Arthur's balls and sucks briefly, an obscene smacking noise filling the room. "You're going to let me, aren't you Arthur? Going to let me have my way with you?"
Arthur has to swallow and take a deep breath before answering. His head is reeling from Merlin's efforts and he's so close, God, he can feel his orgasm just out of reach.
"Yes." His voice comes out steadier than he'd thought he could manage. Merlin looks so wicked, like a devious little sprite, only there's nothing little about him now. Merlin radiates power and control and it's the hottest thing Arthur's ever seen. The whole situation has him utterly wrecked and he's thankful he can just let go and allow Merlin to take over. For once, Arthur doesn't have to make the decisions.
"Good," Merlin purrs into Arthur's skin, "because I'm going to fuck you, Arthur Pendragon. I'm going to fuck you and then we'll see just how strong your resolve is."
Arthur must have made some sort of noise of panic because suddenly Merlin is hovering over his face with a worried expression. He caresses Arthur's cheek and kisses the royal temple.
"Hey," Merlin says softly, "hey. I don't have to. There are other ways to test that stupid theory of yours, you know." His attempt at banter isn't lost on Arthur, who's grateful for it no matter how attractive Merlin is when he's all controlling.
"No, I—I want to. It's just..." Just that Merlin is fairly large (maybe even larger than him if he were the type of man to admit it) and he could barely get his mouth around it, so how is it supposed to fit in his arse? Especially when it doesn't feel like more than a couple fingers could get in there, and that's with extreme discomfort.
"It's new to you. I figured. It'll hurt at first," Merlin says, still stroking Arthur's cheek. "But it will get better. So much better."
Arthur wonders how Merlin knows this then shakes his head at the thought. He doesn't want to think about anyone else having Merlin. All that matters is that he's his now. And he trusts Merlin, trusts him with his life. That isn't what's bothering Arthur.
Arthur's features still look uncertain, so Merlin asks again. "Are you sure you want this? I can be very creative, I'm sure—"
"I want it," Arthur says, determined, his jaw set. "I want you to fuck me, Merlin. So get on with it."
Merlin's eyebrow quirks and Arthur's stomach sinks. He really should not have said that last part. Merlin is the one in charge here; Merlin makes the decisions, and Arthur has stepped out of line. He can only hope Merlin will be merciful.
Merlin clicks his tongue disapprovingly and shakes his head as he moves back down Arthur's body. "I was going to be gentle, give you a nice slow fuck. Now I'm going to pound you into the bed and muffle your screams with my fist."
Arthur nearly laughs—scrawny Merlin muffling him?—but thinks better of it. Merlin can do things when he puts his mind to it, and if the lust Merlin feels for him is anything like what he feels for Merlin, Merlin's going to make good on his word.
Arthur knows Merlin doesn't really mean it about not being gentle though. He also knows that this will hurt, but Merlin will do everything he can to make it feel good as well. He would never intentionally hurt him, no matter what he says.
Arthur has to second-guess himself when the first oiled finger slips past the first ring of muscle in his arse, because Gods that burns. The second finger stretches him even more and he's beginning to wonder how this could ever feel the least bit pleasurable when Merlin pulls his two fingers apart, scissoring them and sending a jolt of electric desire up his spine. Suddenly he wants more, needs to feel that again, is more than willing to endure a little pain if he can just get that spark of whatever that feeling was.
Merlin pours more oil onto his hand and starts to curl his fingers in a beckoning motion, looking for the spot that will drive Arthur even more mad. Arthur cries out once he's found it and he tortures Arthur by rubbing over it again and again.
Now Arthur feels too empty, like two fingers isn't enough. His channel is more slick than it was before and the slide of Merlin's fingers is bittersweet. He needs more but will not ask, will not beg.
Just as Merlin adds a third finger, Arthur feels a wet heat envelope his cock—Merlin's mouth. Fuck, he internally whines, I don't know how much more of this I can take before I—
Merlin feels the first throb of orgasm and stops it. "No!" he shouts, free hand clamped around the base of Arthur's prick. "Not yet you don't."
"Merlin!" Arthur groans, pulling fruitlessly at his restraints with his eyes squeezed shut. "Please, for the love of—"
"What was that?"
Arthur snaps his eyes open and sees Merlin grinning up at him triumphantly. He grinds his teeth and clenches his fists in anger, which only makes Merlin smile wider.
"Could that have been a 'please' I heard?" Merlin taunts him. "Perhaps it was the sound of a king admitting he can't withstand the discomfort?"
Arthur doesn't deign to reply, so Merlin, who still has three fingers knuckle deep in the king's arse, brushes said fingers against Arthur's prostate and tears another yelp from his chest. Arthur glares daggers at him, but Merlin only laughs and licks a stripe up Arthur's cock, making Arthur shudder from the sensation.
"That's enough," Merlin interrupts, his voice commanding once more. "Now I fuck you. Legs."
Arthur raises his legs and Merlin removes his fingers from Arthur's hole to oil up his cock. Arthur bites his lip, thinking again that there's no way it'll fit, not even after all that preparation. Still, he says nothing, trusting Merlin not to hurt him too much—because it will hurt, Merlin said as much—and tries to calm his racing heart as the tip of Merlin's cock presses into him.
"Fuck fuck fuck," Arthur breathes. Merlin's cock...it hurts, God, it fucking burns like no other pain Arthur has felt before. It was no wonder Arthur had never done this; things are supposed to come out of this hole, not go in, and even if the fingers felt amazing, there's no way this feeling of intrusion could ever get better.
Merlin sees Arthur in distress and stops half-way. "Shh, Arthur, shh," he soothes him. "It's alright. I know it hurts, love, just give it time. It's alright, Arthur."
Arthur tries to calm his breathing and focus on Merlin's words rather than the pulsing burn in his arse. A part of him contemplates backing out, telling Merlin that he's had enough. Merlin would do it; he's never gone too far in their games and he'd respect Arthur now. But another part panics at the mere thought of Merlin pulling out and leaving him empty. It may hurt but it's...it's a nice feeling too, being full of Merlin.
That thought, that Merlin is inside him, hot and thick, refuels Arthur's resolve. He had said he wanted this—he still does. He wants everything Merlin has to give him and he wants to give everything to Merlin.
Finally, Arthur's breathing returns to normal and Merlin deems it alright to push a little farther in. Arthur's breath hitches and he bites his lip at the continued stretch but makes no other noise. Merlin takes this as encouragement and keeps going until he is buried to the hilt. When he's fully seated in Arthur, he leans forward and kisses Arthur deeply.
"Better?" he asks against the king's lips.
"Yes. Need a few moments to adjust though. Kiss me more?"
"What do we say?"
Arthur groans and rolls his eyes. "Please kiss me more?"
"It would be my pleasure." Merlin smiles and gives Arthur what he wants.
It is every bit as sensual as their first kiss and does well to distract Arthur from the pain. Merlin allows Arthur to lead, welcomes the wet warmth of Arthur's tongue into his mouth and lets it get comfortable there.
Merlin jerks his hips and Arthur inhales sharply. There was a short spike of pain but Merlin keeps at it and...Damn, it feels good...fuck, it feels great! Merlin's cock sliding in and out of him is hitting all the right nerve endings and it fills him so pleasantly. The walls of Arthur's hole cling to Merlin like a second skin and Arthur's body finally feels complete, as if it has a mind of its own and didn't realise what it had been missing. Arthur's body seems to hum in pleasure—though that could be the effect that Merlin's magic has on him, because Merlin is having trouble keeping it in check—and similarly, Arthur feels a low vibration build in his throat.
"Merlin," Arthur moans breathily, "yuh-yeah Merlin, fuck."
Merlin switches from quick, short jerks of his hips to a sweet, slow roll. Arthur wishes his hands were free just so he could bury his fingers in Merlin's black mess of hair and suck his collarbone. Instead, he's bound, and he can only wrap his legs around Merlin in an effort to pull him closer, deeper.
"Feels good?" Merlin asks between pants. His hair has begun to stick to his forehead with sweat and his arms are threatening to buckle beneath him. "Doesn't hurt?"
Merlin laughs at Arthur's loss for words. Deciding to give his arms a rest, he shifts into a kneeling position and tucks his arms under Arthur's knees to lift him up for a better angle. He builds up a steady rhythm, somewhere between fast and slow, and the sound of his pounding into Arthur's arse fills the room along with their heavy breathing.
It's at this point that Arthur resolves never to call Merlin useless again because finally they seem to have found something Merlin's good at. The angle he's got Arthur positioned in is perfect and Merlin's cock hits the sweet spot with every thrust forward. It leaves Arthur—and Merlin, as it takes quite a bit of work—breathless.
"Fuck Arthur, look at you, all tied up and bouncing on my cock," Merlin praises. "So beautiful, Arthur. That's it, just take it, take my dick in you splitting you open."
"M-Merlin!" Arthur's vision swims from Merlin's words and again he feels himself so close to the breaking point. "Please Merlin, just—just touch me, please."
Merlin's sac tightens at Arthur's voice begging to be allowed to spend. It's everything he's ever dreamt of and more. Arthur feels so good clenched around him and he's close to orgasm himself, so he unwraps his arm from around Arthur's thigh and reaches down to bring his king some relief. It only takes four strokes before Arthur's crying out Merlin's name and Merlin has to put his hand over Arthur's mouth to muffle the noise. When Arthur stops screaming in favour of parting his lips and sucking one of Merlin's fingers inside, the sensation pushes Merlin over the edge and he comes with a low grunt deep in Arthur's arse.
Merlin pulls out slowly, leaving Arthur gaping and empty. Arthur is just as exhausted as Merlin, but he feels something else as well; he feels like a plaything all tied up, like an object to be used however his manservant sees fit. It's degrading and humiliating, especially when Arthur is able to feel Merlin's seed leaking out of him, but he likes the feeling, is enjoying it all the same, because he is Merlin's plaything and would do anything to please him.
Arthur is faintly aware of Merlin untying him and the blood circulation returning to his arms. And it must be Merlin who wipes down his stomach and the wet cleft of his arse before dressing him for bed. It takes another few moments of wading through post-coital haze for Arthur to realise Merlin is actually tidying up, albeit naked as the day he was born. Merlin's wiry frame walks in and out of Arthur's view as he bundles Arthur's shed garb and tosses it in the basket for laundering, then goes to poke the fire that died down.
"Merlin," Arthur calls softly, "come here."
Merlin looks over his shoulder and the firelight that shines through his ears make him look even more spritely and ethereal than ever. He drops the poker for the second time that night and pads over somewhat nervously to where Arthur holds the duvet open for him. Arthur hadn't even noticed that Merlin had also apparently tucked him in.
Merlin hesitates when he comes to the edge of the bed. "Are you sure?" For the same reason that Arthur worried about Merlin not wanting a kiss, Merlin worries about Arthur wanting to sleep with him. Sexual attraction doesn't always mean romantic feelings follow.
Arthur exhales in frustration and rolls his eyes. "Would you get in here already?"
Merlin's answering smile lights up the room in the way a fire will never be able to and he slides into bed next to the king. "I'm not wearing anything," he says.
Arthur places his hand on Merlin's hip and brings Merlin closer so that his front is aligned with Merlin's back. "I don't mind in the slightest."
Merlin snorts. "I know you don't. What I mean is, you'll have to keep me warm."
Merlin shifts so that his toes touch Arthur's feet and Arthur jerks in surprise at the cold. He rubs his hand up and down Merlin's thigh. "I can do that."
"Good." Merlin sighs contentedly and presses further back into Arthur. Warm, solid, Arthur. "Night, Arthur."
Arthur is almost certain Merlin is asleep when he whispers, "I still expect breakfast in the morning, you know."
Merlin shoots back with a half-hearted, "Prat."