“Then we’d better warm you up a bit, hadn’t we?” Arthur says, and he still sounds smug, but Merlin knows that voice, he knows that tone. That’s the same tone in which Arthur says ‘why don’t you join me?’ when he’s lounging on the bed naked, or ‘I’m sure we’ll find something to do’ with a gleam in his eye. That voice usually leads to Merlin, spread out on the bed, or bent over a table even, once, up against a tree in the forest.
There’s a warm fizz in his stomach, low down and deep inside, where, somehow, the cold hasn’t penetrated yet. He’s not sure why. This situation doesn’t exactly go with that voice. In fact, this situation is probably as far from that voice and all that follows it as possible, but somehow, Merlin’s body is reacting.
It’s probably automatic, he tells himself, probably just that Arthur’s trained him so well to respond to that voice, that now whenever he hears it he gets hard... which he is.
But he’s in pain, and he can’t move and he’s cold and Arthur’s being a prat and none of that is attractive at all. He tells his body that firmly. This is in no way attractive.
Arthur’s standing in front of him now and one hand is warm in Merlin’s hair.
There is a moment of complete disbelief because this cannot be happening. Not even Arthur could be so ridiculous as to think that this could happen.
It’s bloody freezing for a start... how is Arthur even managing to...
Arthur’s cloak is surrounding Merlin’s head now, and the air is so much warmer in there. Not warm but warmer, and Merlin thinks he can feel his nose starting to thaw. Arthur’s other hand reaches down to unlace his breeches and yes this is going to happen.
“You’re right,” Arthur says, after a moment, “it is cold out here... you’re going to have to help me keep warm.”
Merlin strains at the wood, but he’s not moving anywhere any time soon. He’s stuck there and Arthur’s pulling himself out of his breeches and stepping forward again so that there’s no doubt at all what he wants, and all Merlin can really do is open his mouth and think again that maybe he should have never come to Camelot.
He’s fully hard now, though, and he supposes, at this point, when his lips are eagerly wrapping round Arthur’s cock, that there’s no point in protesting that he’s not enjoying this... really enjoying this. He’s sucking and licking at Arthur desperately and his tongue is tasting him. Suddenly there’s warm flowing through him and he’s not cold any more, every part of him is tingling with magic.
“God...” Arthur says, “I thought you said you were cold.”
No one from the outside could see exactly what’s happening, with Arthur’s cloak a heavy screen around them, but if someone were to walk past, there would be no doubt what was going on.
Merlin’s never been that into being caught, or almost getting caught, but he thinks that maybe Arthur is, and that makes him want to smile a little.
He’ll have to get some pay back for this, though, is the next thought he manages, as Arthur whispers, low and hoarse, to him, that his mouth’s so hot, so fucking hot.
He can’t move enough to take Arthur in further, can’t reach as far as he would like, but he tries anyway, strains, ignoring the pain in his neck muscles. Arthur notices and holds him still.
“Stop that,” he commands, though he doesn’t sound very commanding, more desperate and hungry. “You’re still being punished, you know.”
Merlin hums, partly agreement, partly a plea for more, and Arthur bucks his hips forward with a groan, muttering more, filthy promises, dirty comments, descriptions of what he wants to do, what Merlin looks like. The Prince’s hand is still wrapped in Merlin’s hair and, when Merlin swipes his tongue round and down over the head of his cock, he loses all control and just gives in to fucking his mouth. And Merlin takes it... he has to take it.
He’s so hard right now, so hard... His own hips are trying to move, but he’s not in the right position to do anything, there is no friction available.
He groans, desperate for something because this is just cruel.
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I have no excuse for this. Part 2
Date: 2010-01-07 12:30 pm (UTC)There’s a warm fizz in his stomach, low down and deep inside, where, somehow, the cold hasn’t penetrated yet. He’s not sure why. This situation doesn’t exactly go with that voice. In fact, this situation is probably as far from that voice and all that follows it as possible, but somehow, Merlin’s body is reacting.
It’s probably automatic, he tells himself, probably just that Arthur’s trained him so well to respond to that voice, that now whenever he hears it he gets hard... which he is.
But he’s in pain, and he can’t move and he’s cold and Arthur’s being a prat and none of that is attractive at all. He tells his body that firmly. This is in no way attractive.
Arthur’s standing in front of him now and one hand is warm in Merlin’s hair.
There is a moment of complete disbelief because this cannot be happening. Not even Arthur could be so ridiculous as to think that this could happen.
It’s bloody freezing for a start... how is Arthur even managing to...
Arthur’s cloak is surrounding Merlin’s head now, and the air is so much warmer in there. Not warm but warmer, and Merlin thinks he can feel his nose starting to thaw. Arthur’s other hand reaches down to unlace his breeches and yes this is going to happen.
“You’re right,” Arthur says, after a moment, “it is cold out here... you’re going to have to help me keep warm.”
Merlin strains at the wood, but he’s not moving anywhere any time soon. He’s stuck there and Arthur’s pulling himself out of his breeches and stepping forward again so that there’s no doubt at all what he wants, and all Merlin can really do is open his mouth and think again that maybe he should have never come to Camelot.
He’s fully hard now, though, and he supposes, at this point, when his lips are eagerly wrapping round Arthur’s cock, that there’s no point in protesting that he’s not enjoying this... really enjoying this. He’s sucking and licking at Arthur desperately and his tongue is tasting him. Suddenly there’s warm flowing through him and he’s not cold any more, every part of him is tingling with magic.
“God...” Arthur says, “I thought you said you were cold.”
No one from the outside could see exactly what’s happening, with Arthur’s cloak a heavy screen around them, but if someone were to walk past, there would be no doubt what was going on.
Merlin’s never been that into being caught, or almost getting caught, but he thinks that maybe Arthur is, and that makes him want to smile a little.
He’ll have to get some pay back for this, though, is the next thought he manages, as Arthur whispers, low and hoarse, to him, that his mouth’s so hot, so fucking hot.
He can’t move enough to take Arthur in further, can’t reach as far as he would like, but he tries anyway, strains, ignoring the pain in his neck muscles. Arthur notices and holds him still.
“Stop that,” he commands, though he doesn’t sound very commanding, more desperate and hungry. “You’re still being punished, you know.”
Merlin hums, partly agreement, partly a plea for more, and Arthur bucks his hips forward with a groan, muttering more, filthy promises, dirty comments, descriptions of what he wants to do, what Merlin looks like. The Prince’s hand is still wrapped in Merlin’s hair and, when Merlin swipes his tongue round and down over the head of his cock, he loses all control and just gives in to fucking his mouth. And Merlin takes it... he has to take it.
He’s so hard right now, so hard... His own hips are trying to move, but he’s not in the right position to do anything, there is no friction available.
He groans, desperate for something because this is just cruel.