fortified with optimism

:(

Sun, 01 Nov 2009 19:57:19 GMT

So Halloween was a total bust. The weather was crap and Hogan wanted nothing to do with his costume. So, we bought some half-price candy today for him to enjoy and he's currently using his plastic pumpkin as a holding station for his many, many, many toy cars. So, there's that.

I'm in A Mood today. I had a -- I won't use the word run in, because it wasn't me they were shouting at, but an encounter with two homophobes that's left me sort of shaken, even 24 hours later. I don't understand how you can dislike someone so much to scream horrible things at them, when all they've done to offend you is walk down the street holding hands. I'm just blah and mope and frowny face. If anyone is around, point me to something good, or I'm going to wind up sitting around for the rest of the day, watching fanvids. NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT.

Oh, also, someone needs to make a Merlin/Arthur fanvid with this song, plz. I guess I could, if only I'd take the time to figure out iMovie. Or, if I knew where to find clips.

concrit, the bitch slap edition

Thu, 22 Oct 2009 17:31:17 GMT

Wow. So, I don't really know what to say about yesterday. That was pretty insane. I was stunned when I first read The Comment. I mean, really just stunned. I've never had anything happen like that before and it was pretty horrifying. And the really heart breaking thing is, I love Merlin so much. I love the show and I love the fandom. I can't stop gushing about it to anyone who'll listen. And if they won't stand still, I'll shout it at their retreating back Every single person I've met in the fandom has been so nice and so kind and supportive. No one seems to care that I'm a noob and even when I totally fucked up the link to my fic in the merlinxarthur comm, not only was it pointed out in a kind way, people helped me fix it with a smile.

And you know, I really fucking loved that fic. I worked hard on it and put a lot of myself into it and was really proud of it. And then, then it became this thing with someone's filthy fingerprints on it. :(

But then. Then you guys. I don't know what I've done to deserve such fierce loyalty from you all, but thank you. THANK YOU. Instead of this thing I loved becoming something that broke my heart it was this place where you all rescued me.

A little while ago, I got this comment:

Hello again,

I told you I didn't want to offend you, and I'm glad I didn't. I was quite surprised, though, to find that so many others were indignant about my comment instead. I sincerely apologise to have caused such a stir.

I didn't read most of the replies, but in response to one of them: I posted anonymously (and obviously am doing so again) because not everyone deems it necessary to create a LJ account when they don't have much to tell. And dear author, no, we do not know each other, in real life or otherwise.

I could've said 'feel free to delete this comment' as I've seen some people do. But it's your journal, thus your call anyway. Who am I to grant you freedom to delete things from your journal? Exactly. In this case, it might be for the best, though.

Please know that I never intended to belittle your writing. As I said, it was quite good, there were just an awful lot of mistakes for a story that has been beta-ed and proofread. Don't let this one comment of mine discourage you to write more.

Again, sorry for the mess.

So, I'll take that at face value. I responded with this:

Hello again.

Thanks for coming back to try and clear this up. I think that's pretty ballsy of you, considering yesterday's shit storm. I think, if you go back and reread your comment objectively, you'll see the problem. Whether or not it was intentionally constructed this way, it came off as arrogant and smug. Obviously, I know the difference between stroke and stoke, I don't need you to copy and past definitions into a comment to prove that point. If I'd written that he hamburgered his face, then, you know, a quick "I do not think it means what you think it means," would be appropriate. Otherwise, the generally accepted thing to do is a PM or comment with "You might want to check again for typos." The comment/delete thing is used when you don't want to or can't send a PM. It's a way of letting the author know of errors without appearing to wave those errors above her head like a banner. I'm certainly not telling you what you MUST do, just what would be prudent in avoiding situations like yesterday.

This community is about reading and writing, about sharing mutual squee over things we love and about community. The people here, I've known them for years. When I was pregnant with my son, they mailed me presents and held a virtual baby shower. They've flown from Utah and England to visit. They're kind and wonderful and fiercely loyal. I'm afraid you had to be on the wrong side of that yesterday. I won't apologize for it though. When your comment left me reeling, they put me back together and I'm grateful for that.

Truly, I appreciate you taking the time to want to point out the errors. I'm firm in the belief that if the story was total shit, you wouldn't have taken the time. Next time, you might want to consider giving more clarity to your statements. I'm sorry about how things went down yesterday. If what you're saying is true, and I hope it is, it was a severe mis-communication.

Jenn

So, let just chalk this one up to experience and move on, shall we? I'll willing to accept they just used the wrong words and the wrong time to the wrong person. I'll willing to forgive and forget and move on. What I'm not willing to do, however, is NOT share these icons from some of my favorite comments yesterday. I didn't get all of them, but here.

So, in overalls, tl;dr, have some icons.

From natertatersmom

From fitzette

From suzanne_taylor

From ozma_katiebell

Merlin Fic: Something Known

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 11:52:35 GMT

Title: Something Known
Author: fitzette
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9200ish
Warnings/Spoilers: Modern!AU!, Non-linear. Mentions of Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lance. Homophobia.
Summary: "I'm Arthur. You must be Merlin."

"Hey," he says, from his position on the floor.

"This is Gwain and this is Gallahad." He indicates the blokes behind him. They look friendly enough and Merlin raises a hand in greeting. One is tall, the other short and they're both still a little ways from losing all their baby fat. They look almost as awkward in their skin as Merlin feels in his.

Not Arthur, though. Arthur is already perfect, chiseled porcelain.

AN: I'm ... not quite sure where this came from. It was meant to be a light-hearted fic about Post Secret and make up sex. It turned into something totally different, and there is no mention of Post Secret herein. There is make up sex, though. Big thanks to my sister who read every section as it was completed, to thesteppyone for assuring me I was on the right track and to queenb23more for the outstanding beta. It's like I've got a complete army of awesome at my fingertips. Standard disclaimer applies. I own nothing except the mistakes. ~~Please feel free to point them out.~~ I think I'm all set on concrit on this story.

And I sing hallelujah ripped through my veins
I heard the hammer drop
My blood in the rain
Sing hallelujah came like a train
When all is lost, all is left to gain

Merlin is starting to think it may never rain again. It's been a week, maybe more, which normally wouldn't be so bad, but it's the first crush of summer and the air is thick and heavy, full of water too stubborn to just fall. Merlin has all the tiny windows in his flat thrown open optimistically, to no avail. There isn't a breeze to be had.

As the time on his watch clicks past 2:00 am, Merlin finally puts his notes aside and snaps his computer closed. He stretches his arms above his head, then rolls his head from side to side, stretching his neck. His shirt is damp, sticky against his body, and he pulls it over his head and tosses it in the general direction of the hamper. An evening's worth of study has left quite a mess in his small kitchen, so Merlin moves around it, gathering rubbish and washing out the coffee pot. Once done, he shoves his papers into a folder and stretches out on the length of his couch. A tiny fan in the corner is creating a tremendous amount of racket and just enough of a draft to chill the sweat on Merlin's body. He pillows his head on his arms and falls asleep.

~*~

The sheets are blue, gone soft with washing. They're folded neatly over one another and then stashed inside a pillow case, looking just the same in his small suitcase as they do in the the cupboard at home. Hunith pulls them out and unfurls them, tucks them onto the narrow twin bed with all the care of a mother dressing her newborn. Merlin moves around her awkwardly, unpacking socks and pajamas and books, all arms and legs and ears, as uncomfortable in this body as if it had been handed to him the day before, not lived in these past 18 years. He'll grow into himself, his mother keeps telling him, he won't always trip over his own feet. The arms and legs, maybe. Merlin has long given up on the ears.

She fusses over him when she leaves, and it's properly embarrassing, even if expected. He lets her though, knows what it must have cost for both train tickets when she could have just as easily bought one.

When she is gone, he walks back to his room and sits down on the cool tile floor, tilts his head back onto his bed, and contemplates the ceiling for a good long while. He stays that way until the door bursts open and three guys tumble in, laughing uproariously.

The first one stops abruptly and the other two knock into him, which sets them all off again. Finally, the fairest of the boys gives a slight nod at Merlin and says, "I'm Arthur. You must be Merlin."

"Hey," he says, from his position on the floor.

"This is Gwain and this is Gallahad." He indicates the blokes behind him. They look friendly enough, and Merlin raises a hand in greeting. One is tall, the other short, and they're both still a little ways from losing all their baby fat. They look almost as awkward in their skin as Merlin feels in his.

Not Arthur, though. Arthur is already perfect, chiseled porcelain.

~*~

"'lo?"

"Merlin!"

Merlin pulls his mobile away from his ear. "Will?"

"Merlin, can you hear me?"

"Will, where are you?"

"I'm down at the pub."

"Will," Merlin says, and he can already see where this is going. "You know I can't."

"Your exams aren't for ages!"

"Will, I've three weeks until the end of term, and then I'll go out on the piss with you as often as you like."

"Merlin, please." And he's whining now.

"I really can't."

"Merlin--"

Merlin glances at his watch. "Ok, where are you?"

He finds Will at the pub half an hour later, and he's already well into his cups. "Merlin!" he says happily, sounding almost surprised to see him. "You never come out anymore! This is massive, mate, massive. Goddamn this weather, yeah?" He pokes a shot glass filled with a questionable brown substance and, after a wary glance, Merlin knocks it back. Will gives a happy shout and the liquor settles heavily, warm in Merlin's stomach.

This was a good idea, Merlin decides almost immediately. It's been too long since he's had a night out, and besides, he isn't going to flunk out of medical school if he spends a few hours away from his books.

"I'll get the next round," he says when Will drains his pint. "I need something to eat."

He's edging towards the bar when a familiar shock of golden hair catches his eye. And he knows, he knows.

It jolts through Merlin like a bolt of lighting and he stands very still, letting the sensation wash over him fully like the resulting rain. Several moments pass in which he is utterly aware that he is staring quite openly at Arthur Pendragon and that at any moment, Arthur could look up and see him, and yet he can't seem to move. Only when the crowd parts and he notices the head of dark curly hair bent towards Arthur does he find his legs. He spins quickly and is halfway back to the bar when he hears his name. He pauses briefly, wonders if he can pretend...but no, there really aren't that many Merlins in London and Lance is one of his best friends. He plasters a grin to his face and turns.

Arthur, at least, seems unaffected. A slight widening of his eyes is the only sign that he recognizes Merlin at all. His perfect features slide back into place quickly though, and he resumes the lazy expression that Merlin recognizes as his default.

"Gwen," he says, when he reaches their table. "How are you?"

"I'm good, thank you. How are you?"

"Fine."

She smiles beautifully. "Arthur, this is Merlin. He's a friend of Lance's."

"Well," says Arthur, "any friend of Lance's."

"Merlin, this is Arthur Pendragon."

"Yes," he says, and he holds out his hand. "Yes, I think we've met before."

That instant the rain starts in earnest. The sound is deafening.

~*~

It happens slowly, the way they become friends, almost without their consent, like something outside of themselves. One day Merlin is questioning whether or not he’s allowed to borrow a pencil from Arthur's desk and the next Arthur is inviting Merlin along for a game of footie with his mates. Merlin doesn’t play but offers to come along anyway, sprawls in the sun as Arthur and his friends run around like lunatics in a game that Merlin doesn’t understand and can’t be arsed to learn.

Afterwards, they go out for a pizza. Merlin eats until he almost can’t breath and Arthur nearly chokes to death over Merlin’s impressions of his friends.

They get into only one argument, during finals. Merlin commits the nearly unforgivable sin of inadvertently rearranging Arthur’s neat stacks of paper and suffers through a screaming match and a week of silence as a result.

All things considered, Merlin thinks it could have been worse.

~*~

London is sort of huge. Merlin knows this because in his three years here, he hasn't seen Arthur once and hasn't been worried about seeing Arthur either. Once he sees him though, he can't seem to stop seeing him, like something known that you can't then unlearn. He sees him once at a dingy tube station, coming as Arthur is going, and once through the window of WHSmith as Merlin is walking home, and then finally, in a small coffee shop Merlin frequents for the free Wi Fi. He is in past his elbows into a stack of textbooks when a voice at his ear says, "Black, three sugars?"

He turns and finds Arthur at his elbow, a coffee mug in each hand. He offers one and Merlin takes it, brow furrowed. Arthur looks awkward; Merlin doesn't need both hands to count the number of times he's seen Arthur look awkward.

"Thanks."

"I don't want to bother you or anything," he says, gesturing at Merlin's covered table.

"You're not." He shuffles some things and piles some other things and makes room for their mugs. Arthur slides into the chair opposite him.

"Still in medical school then, I take it."

"Haven't flunked out yet."

"I wouldn't imagine so, no."

He takes a moment to regard Arthur over his coffee cup. He hasn't changed, not much. If he looks older, it must be just the button down and the tie, tugged loose at his throat. His face is still young and smooth. He props an umbrella against their table. Merlin toes at the damp cuffs of his frayed jeans.

"How's business?"

Arthur shrugs. "It's, you know, it's business."

Merlin forces a smile. "How's your father?"

"He's fine. He's well."

"Good."

"And Hunith?"

Merlin smiles down at his coffee mug. "She's good. She's -- I told her I ran into you. She sends her love."

"That's nice. That's ... tell her the same from me. If you don't mind."

"Of course."

Arthur curls his hands around his own mug. "She was always lovely, your mother."

"Yeah. Still is."

"You remember that time--" Arthur laughs. "You remember when she sent you--"

"Oh, god, how could I forget."

"The size of that thing."

"It was huge."

"Where she found a box that size--"

"How she got it in the post more like, must have cost a bloody fortune."

Merlin is grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. He takes a deep drink from his coffee.

"So, about the other night. That was ... I don't know, I didn't expect to see you, and I was with Gwen. That was a bit awkward, wasn't it?"

"It's just--" Merlin tries to think of a word to encompass how enormous it was. "Yeah, it's been a while."

"You're doing well, though."

It's not a question. Merlin nods anyway.

"That's good. I'm glad. I mean, not that I would have expected otherwise."

"So you're dating Gwen?"

For whatever reason, Arthur does not blanch at this intensely personal question. "Yeah, sort of. Just two dates. That was our second date, the other night."

"Ah."

"And she's dating that other guy too, Lance. He's your friend, right?"

"Just a bit. From school."

"Ah."

Arthur clears his throat. "So, look," he says, with the tone of someone putting all their cards on the table, "are you still fucked off about what happened with my dad?"

Merlin feels his eyebrows climb up his forehead. "Ok, first of all, I was fucked off at you, not your dad, and second of all, do we have to have this conversation?"

Arthur rubs his left eye with his ring finger. Merlin recognizes this nervous gesture; Arthur has had it for seven years at least. "No. That's ... I shouldn't ... I was just, I wish that hadn't been--"

He trails off and looks to Merlin for help. There was a time, loads of times, actually, when he would have stepped in and saved Arthur, when he knew Arthur down to his bones. It's different, now, even if it feels exactly the same.

"Are you apologizing?"

Arthur makes a frustrated noise. "I'm just saying I wish it hadn't happened like that."

"Oh." Not an apology and three years too late anyway. "Ok."

"This was ... I should go." He drains his cup and stands.

"Thanks for the coffee."

"Yeah, anytime."

He's halfway to the door when he turns abruptly and walks back to Merlin. He opens his wallet and pulls out a business card. "If you ever want--"

"Yeah," says Merlin. He takes the card and glances around the table. He tears a piece of paper in half and scrawls his own number on it. "That's me," he says needlessly.

Arthur examines the paper, the folds it carefully in half and slips it into his breast pocket. Without another word, he leaves, opening his umbrella once he's clear of the door. Merlin watches him go, wondering what the hell just happened.

~*~

"You should come out with us," Arthur says. He's fussing with his hair in the mirror and has been for nearly ten minutes. Merlin can't understand the point, really. Arthur's hair looks perfect no matter what he does with it.

"No, thanks."

"Come on, Merlin. How do you expect to meet ever meet any girls holed up in our room?"

Merlin laughs. "I don't."

Arthur turns around, genuinely perplexed. "What?"

Merlin rolls his eyes. "I'm gay, Arthur. How do you not know that?"

"You're gay?"

"Yeah."

Arthur gapes at him for several moments. "You're gay?"

"Yes."

"How did I not know that?"

Merlin laughs. "I was wondering the same thing."

"Huh," says Arthur. He stares at Merlin for several more moments, like seeing him for the very first time. "Huh," he says again. Then he turns and leaves.

Hours later, Arthur creeps back in. Merlin is in bed, feigning sleep. In the stillness, he hears Arthur's bedsprings creak, then the twin thumbs of his shoes being toed off, then the rustle of fabric as his shirt sails toward the hamper. He lays down on top of the covers.

"Merlin," he says, so softly Merlin could pretend to be asleep if he wanted. He does want, but he says, "Yeah?"

"How much stuff have you done with blokes?"

"What, do you want like a quantity?"

Arthur snorts. "No. I mean, you've had sex with another guy?"

"Yeah."

"You've--"

"Yeah."

Arthur processes this for a minute. "Have you ever had another bloke--"

"Yeah."

"And you like that?"

Merlin chuckles. "Uh, yeah."

"Seriously? It doesn't...I dunno, it doesn't hurt?"

"Not if you ... god, do we seriously have to have this conversation?"

"Yes."

"Ok, so it's like--" Merlin scrubs his hands over his face. "It's like being with a girl, you know? You wouldn't ... you know, before she was ready, right?"

"Right."

"It's the same sort of thing."

"Huh. So if ... wait, you've had sex with a girl?"

"Two."

Arthur sits up in the bed. "TWO?"

"Yeah."

Arthur hoots and collapses back onto his bed. "Merlin,” he says. “You never cease to surprise me."

Merlin grins and presses his face into his pillow.

~*~

He never actually considers calling Arthur. He looks at his card several times, once even pulls it out of his wallet and lays it on the counter beside his phone. He leaves it there for a day before tucking it back in behind a folded five pound note. He thinks, one heartbreak was quite enough. He thinks, he was just being polite. He thinks, it’s been three years, what would we possibly have to say to one another.

When Arthur calls, he doesn’t know what to think. He stares at the screen of his phone in a mute sort of shock and after the fifth ring, right before it goes to voicemail, he pick it up and answers.

“Hello?”

“Merlin?”

“Yes?”

“It’s Arthur.”

“Arther, hey.”

The line is silent so long, Merlin would wonder if they’ve been disconnected, except that he can hear the barest hint of Arthur breathing on the other end. After a painful silence, he says, “How are you?”

“Good. I was just studying.”

“Oh. Oh, ok, sorry—“

“No, it’s ok," Merlin interrupts. “I could do with a break.”

“How long of a break were you thinking of?”

Merlin glances at the clock above the stove. “I dunno, why?”

“I was craving a pizza and thought, if you weren’t doing anything ...”

Merlin does a quick calculation and wonders what on earth he and Arthur Pendragon will talk about for the hour it takes to consume a pizza. He agrees anyway.

He showers and changes quickly. Arthur beats him to the restaurant anyway. He's sitting in a booth in the back, two beers already on the table.

"Hey," Arthur says. " I went ahead and --" He gestures to the drinks.

"Yeah, brilliant." He slips into the booth and takes a deep drink.

"When are exams?"

"Two weeks."

Arthur gives a sympathetic nod and Merlin realizes he thinks the reason he's drained half a pint in 45 seconds is because of the stress of preparing for his exams. He immediately dismisses any thoughts of correcting him and decides he better pretend like that's exactly the problem.

"I ordered half cheese, half everything," Arthur says.

Merlin grins. "Sounds perfect."

Arthur is folding a napkin into a crane. Merlin watches his hands for a minute then blurts, "Glad the rain finally stopped."

Arthur's face is amused. "Yeah."

Merlin wants to smash his head into the table. Is he actually talking about the weather? "So, how's work?"

"It's, you know." He finishes the crane and adjusts the wings, propping it on the table. "It's business. Mergers and acquisitions and whatnot. You know."

Merlin grins. "I really don't."

"No, I guess not."

"But it's, I mean, you like it? You're happy there?"

A younger Arthur would have answered "Why do you care so much, Merlin?" This Arthur frowns and considers the question. "I dunno. It's ok. It's not quite what I thought it would be. But it's, yeah, it's fine."

"That's good, I guess."

Arthur nods.

"How's Gwen?"

Their pizza arrives. Once they get it sorted, Merlin asks the question again. Arthur says, "Fine."

"Tell her hello from me, when you see her."

"Lance will be thrilled."

Merlin waves his hand dismissively. "Lance is as bogged down with studying as I am. I'm sure she's all yours, for the next two weeks anyway."

"Well then." Arthur drains his drink. "Two weeks, then? Until exams?

Merlin groans and rakes his hands through his hair. "Yeah. If I don't fall over and die before then."

"So melodramatic. You'll be fine. You know you test well."

"I guess. Med school is, god, it's like the more I learn, the stupider I feel."

"Really?" says Arthur. "Stupider than you already do?"

Merlin narrows his eyes and Arthur throws his head back and laughs. The other diners turn and stare at them. Merlin can't bring himself to care.

When Arthur comes back to himself, eyes twinkling, he turns his gaze on Merlin and smiles. "It's good to see you."

Merlin exhales a laugh. "Yeah."

And he thought, really thought, he was over it. Thought three years was enough, thought if they ever met again, it would be as indifferent acquaintances. But it's still there, this thing between them, after all this time. Merlin feels like his body is being pulled towards Arthur's, like he's the moon or some other nonsense. He watches Arthur's mouth form words that he can't understand. He tears his eyes from Arthur's lips and says, "What?"

Arthur is leaning towards him. He says, “How far is yours?”

Arthur has him up against the door almost before it closes. He slants his mouth possessively over Merlin's, presses the length of their bodies together, like there’s no such thing as too much contact, like he’s angry at the space between them.

"Merlin, Merlin," he chants. He shoves his hand under Merlin's shirt and Merlin gasps into Arthur's mouth.

"Slow down," Merlin mutters. "Arthur, hang on."

"If I stop, you'll talk yourself out of it."

Merlin grins against Arthur's mouth. "I said slow down, not stop."

He feels the exhale of Arthur's laugh against his mouth.

"I thought I was remembering it wrong," Arthur says, pulling apart to press their foreheads together. "I thought, no, he can't possibly feel that good, I've got it all wrong in my head. When I saw you, Merlin--"

Merlin captures his mouth again, can't bear to have him go on, to just say these things. He can feel Arthur hard against him, is already aching himself, so it's with only minor trepidation that he reaches for Arthur's belt buckle. Arthur groans appreciatively and arches his body to make room for Merlin's hands.

"Do you have--" he says and Merlin freezes because he can't possibly be thinking what Merlin is thinking.

"What?"

"Couch. Bed. Table. Anything flat."

Merlin laughs. "I have all those things. Couch is closest." He walks Arthur backwards until his knees hit the cushions and he pushes him down onto it. He just looks for a moment, memorizes the lines of Arthur's body, and then descends on him. He pulls his own shirt off and rucks Arthur's up. They both hiss at the contact, warm skin on warm skin. Two belts, two zippers, and Merlin has them both in his hand. He strokes once and Arthur gasps.

Merlin relinquishes his hold on Arthur's mouth to lift his head. He expects to find Arthur's eyes screwed shut, but instead they're wide, watching every movement Merlin makes.

"What do you want?"

"Anything."

"What do you want?"

"Let me do you, too," he says and he gives Merlin a little shove. Merlin realizes he's going to fall off the couch half a second before he actually does, but it doesn't matter because Arthur follows him over, covers his mouth again, and rocks down against him. And he's hard, so fucking hard, desperate for it and it's Arthur moving above him.

"I'm not, Arthur, I can't--"

"Oh, please, god, Merlin, come for me."

Eight delicious thrusts and his orgasm consumes his entire body. His legs tighten around Arthur's hips and his back arches, heat racing up and down his spine. He can't breathe, can't breathe ... Arthur holds him through it and when he comes back to himself, he realizes Arthur has gone soft above him.

He traces his hands over Arthur's back, feels the strong line. Arthur's head is in the hollow of his neck; Merlin can feel his breaths, shallow and unsteady, against his collarbone.

Merlin leads him to the shower and strips him, covers every inch of his chest in kisses. When they're clean, they go to Merlin's bedroom and do it all again.

Afterwards, Arthur crawls into his bed and passes out. Merlin can't sleep, even though he's tired all the way down to his bones. He crosses his arms under his head and stares up at the ceiling, even though it's too dark to see anything.

It's ... madness, is what it is. He swore to himself, swore to Will, swore to all the gods he knew and some he invented he wouldn't get messed up with Arthur again. Not after how it ended, not after the way Arthur left. Now he's lying beside him in the bed, listening to him breath.

He creeps out of the bed and pulls on his boxers. The night air has gone cool, so he snags a hoodie from his closet and pulls it on. His papers aren't going to write themselves, he decides. He fires up his computer and spreads his notes out along the counter top. He fills a glass with water and settles onto one of the bar stools, immersing himself, or trying to anyway, in hormonal disorders.

He hears the shuffling of feet first, then a warm hand on his back as Arthur passes, sweeping across the place where his shirt has ridden up. He glances over top of his computer as Arthur opens and closes cupboards until he finds a glass. He fills it with water from the tap and Merlin watches the play of muscles along his back. He is so deliberate, so certain about the space he occupies.

Merlin returns his eyes to his computer screen before Arthur can turn around and see him watching. When he finishes a paragraph, he looks back up.

"Hey."

"Hey," says Arthur. "You were gone."

"It's my flat," says Merlin with a smile. "I couldn't exactly run off."

Arthur drains his glass and places it in the sink. He leans against the counter with one hip, bare feet crossed on the floor. He's found his boxers, apparently, and that's all he's wearing. The dim light from the street lamp has turned him golden.

"I didn't mean that."

Merlin arches an eyebrow. "You were looking for another round."

Arthur exhales, a frustrated noise. He walks around the counter and hooks his chin over Merlin's shoulder. "Come back to bed."

He's still sleep-warm, pressed down the length of Merlin's back and Merlin can't help but lean back into him, fit their bodies together.

Yes, he wants to say. Instead he says, "I really need to write this."

"All right."

Arthur's arms come up and wrap around him, one hand slung over his waist, the other splayed against his chest, fingers spread wide against his breastbone. After several moments, he reaches up and pushes Merlin's hood down and presses a line of kisses down his neck, starting just below his earlobe and then down to the hollow above his shoulder bone. Merlin doesn't move, doesn't speak, doesn't breathe. When Arthur steps back and tugs at Merlin's hand, he follows.

~*~

Merlin, like any good uni student, knows that the best and fastest way to get drunk is with a rousing game of I Never. Though he's not much of a drinker, this term has been so brutal that it leaves them all wide-eyed and reeling, so when Arthur bursts into their room the Saturday after finals to tell him that Gwain is organizing a game in his room, he goes.

After three and a half years of sharing a living space with Arthur, his friends have become Merlin's friends. He's greeted with a cheer when he walks in and favors them with a slight bow. He knows he's the comic relief, particularly when they're drinking. He plops down on Gallahad's bed and stretches his long legs out in front of him. Arthur spins Gwain's desk chair around and sits down in it backwards, arms draped over the back.

They pass around a bottle of Irish whiskey and when everyone's glass is full, Arthur, predictable, decides to go first.

"I never kissed another bloke," Arthur says, and Merlin goes entirely cold. He's not in the closet, exactly, but he's never been exactly loud about it either and he can't believe Arthur, Arthur is outing him like this.

He realizes Arthur is watching him with something like fear and he's about half a second from getting up and walking out when his gaze connects with Arthur and Arthur, very slowly, very deliberately, lifts his own glass and drinks.

Heart hammering against his ribs, never taking his eyes off Arthur's, Merlin drains his own glass. The other blokes are all hooting and falling over one another. Merlin finally breaks Arthur's gaze and stares directly into his own empty shot glass. He waits desperately until he can drink again.

There isn't enough alcohol, though. Not in Britain and certainly not in this room. Gwain is a fucking lightweight besides. After three shots, he pukes all down his front and they all make a quick exit, leaving Gallahad to clean up the mess.

Merlin walks off without waiting on Arthur. He slams the door behind him, not caring it if hits Arthur in the face. In fact, he hopes it does, hopes it breaks his fucking nose.

"Merlin, wait." Arthur shoves the door open and walks in. "Are you angry?"

Merlin kicks his shoes off and they go flying. One lands on Arthur's desk. "No."

Arthur raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

"I'm fine."

"You seem fine."

"Good, then."

"Look, Merlin--"

"I said it's fine, all right?

"Look you're either angry or you're jealous and --"

Merlin feels a flush creeping up his neck. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees a grin spread across Arthur's face.

"You are, aren't you? You're jealous!"

The blood in Merlin's ears is roaring. "No."

"Yes, you are. Why, Merlin, I didn't know you cared."

Merlin yanks his jumper over his head and hurls it at the closet. "This is a fucking disaster," he mutters.

"Merlin, it's really fine. In fact, I think it's--"

"It's really not.

"It's--"

"No! Arthur. You're straight, all right? You're completely and entirely straight. Because if you're anything else, if you're gay or bi or even curious or what the fuck ever, Arthur, you will ruin my entire fucking life."

Without really meaning to or knowing how, he's got his hands wound in Arthur's shirt and has him backed up against the wall. They're both breathing hard, chests heaving, brushing against one another.

"You can kiss me, if you want," Arthur says.

"I don't."

"Why are you staring at my mouth?"

Merlin leans forward and covers Arthur's mouth with his own. And it's good, it's fantastic, it's bloody brilliant, a thousand times better than his imaginings. He slants his mouth over Arthur's and Arthur presses forward into his mouth, tasting of whiskey. Merlin groans and unwinds his hands from Arthur's shirt and slides them up to cup his face. Arthur's own hands are firm on Merlin's waist, as though he can't decide whether to pull him in or push him away.

And Merlin knows he may never get this chance again and his body is thrumming with Arthur, Arthur and if this is all he's ever going to get of him, he's going to damn well take what he wants. He slides his hands down Arthur's chest and then under his shirt, mapping the fine skin there. He runs a thumb over his belly button, across the soft hair he finds and then up, splays them across his ribs, the tight skin of his nipples. He trails them down, the thin line of Arthur's waist and then dips both thumbs into the hollows right above Arthur's hip bones.

Arthur's gasps and wrenches his mouth away. Merlin forces himself to look up at Arthur's face. His mouth is red and slack, his pupils blown wide. He looks stunned. They stare at one another endlessly, then Arthur tugs at Merlin's waist.

He moves in for more.

~*~

They meet for curry the next weekend and wind up in Merlin’s bed. Afterwards, when Merlin is lying there boneless and exhausted, Arthur says, "So I'm not seeing Gwen anymore."

Merlin's mouth goes slack. "Ok."

"I haven't been, not since that day.

"Ok."

"I just--" Arthur rolls over and props himself up on his eblow. "I just thought you might want to know. I thought ... I thought it might matter. To you."

"Ok."

"Would you stop saying that?"

Merlin is staring at the ceiling."What do you want me to say?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, clearly you do."

"I just thought," Arthur rakes a hand through his hair. "I thought you might want to give it another go."

Merlin exhales a humorless laugh. "When did we give it a go before?"

"Hey, that's not fair."

"I don't think you're exactly in a position to talk about what is and isn't fair between us, Arthur."

Arthur sits up and reaches for his shirt. "So we're going to do this now?"

"Don't sound so put upon, Arthur," he says vaguely, waving a hand between them. "We don't have to do anything."

"For god's sake, Merlin. Don't do this."

"No, Arthur, really, I appreciate what you're doing here," he says. He stands up and starts pulling his clothes on. "Three years without a fucking word and now you're here offering yourself up like some sort of gift--"

"Merlin, you know it's not like that."

"No," he bursts out. "I don't. I don't know how it is, Arthur, I never did."

"Merlin--"

"Months, Arthur. I waited for months. I left messages with your goddamn maid. You never called. I thought--" Horrible, humiliating things are spilling out of his mouth and now that he's started, he can't seem to stop. He feels like some dark thing in his chest is unraveling. "I thought, god, Arthur, I was in love with you. And you just left, you were gone and nothing, not a word--" He standing above Arthur now, who's still sitting in the bed, stupidly wearing just his shirt. He shoves him in the chest and Arthur catches his hand.

"Merlin, please. I'm sorry, I know, god, you don't think I know I fucked up? How bad I fucked up? You were everything, Merlin, everything--"

He can't bear it, can't stand under the weight of this. He yanks his hand from Arthur's grasp and turns.

"You should go."

"Don't do this."

"I've got ... my exams start next week."

"Will you stop hiding behind your books for just a fucking second--"

"Some of us have to get an education, Arthur. Some of us need real jobs. Some of us don't have our jobs and our flats and our entire fucking lives handed to us by daddy."

There is an unbearable rustling of fabric as Arthur climbs from the bed and gathers his clothes. Merlin keeps staring at the wall.

"Can I ..." He can feel Arthur's heat at his back. "Can I call you?"

Merlin shakes his head.

"Merlin." Fingers trace over the bump at the top of his spine. He lets his head fall forward. "I don't have any pride, Merlin, I'll beg you if you need me to. Please, just--"

"I--" Merlin draws a shaky breath. "My last exam is Friday afternoon. I'll call you."

"Will you?"

He doesn't answer. He doesn't really think Arthur expects him to.

~*~

Merlin loves going home for the weekend for the sole reason of it making Arthur so bloody keen he can barely sit still. This weekend, though, this weekend has been epic all on its own. The letter finally came and he's getting a full ride to medical school, all the loans and scholarships have lined up. He can stay in London, go to school, stay with Arthur.

And Arthur. Knowing that Arthur is probably in their room waiting on him certainly has its own merits. He barely gets the key in the lock before the door flies open and Arthur yanks him inside.

"Finally," he says, burrowing his hands into Merlin's hair. "I was starting to think you moved home."

"Nope," he says into Arthur's mouth. "But I am moving."

Arthur pulls back. "Did your letter come? You got in, didn't you? Of course you did, you're bloody brilliant."

And then he's back, kissing Merlin's mouth, his cheeks, down his jaw. "Mm, Arthur," he says, head falling back and hitting the door with a thunk.

"You deserve a reward, I think," he says and he spins them around and pushes Merlin down onto his bed. He climbs on top of him, bracketing his hips with his knees. "What would you like?"

"I can think of a thing or two," he whispers as Arthur descends on him, mouth sweeping down his throat. The hands on him are demanding and he rolls his hips up, drags himself against Arthur's stomach. "God, you feel good."

"Then stop going away."

"We have all summer," he says, "My uncle said he has a little flat I can sublet and--"

Arthur lifts his head and smiles. "I can't wait. Now stop talking unless you're saying god and yes and Arthur."

He's got Merlin's shirt rucked up under his armpits now and he kisses a line down Merlin's chest and then, looking up to catch Merlin's eyes, unfastens his jeans and presses a kiss to his hipbone.

"Fuck, Arthur," he says, willing his hips to stay on the bed. They've not got quite this far in their fumblings yet, and Merlin is happy to take it slowly for Arthur. Arthur's hands are magic and he doesn't seem to mind Merlin sucking him off. Stil though, it's not like he hasn't thought of it, repeatedly and while he's not entirely sure this is going where he thinks it's going, Arthur splayed between his spread legs is giving him the most outragous ideas, the most unbelievable ideas.

"Tell me if I'm doing this wrong," he says, pulling Merlin's pants down past his hips. Merlin's cock springs free. Arthur licks the tip of it and Merlin's world blurs.

"I think," he pants, "as long as you don't bite it, it's hard to do it wrong."

"I'm aiming for slightly better than not biting your prick off."

Merlin means to say, "Always the overacheiver," but then Arthur's got the entire head of his cock into his mouth and Merlin's world is reduced to the wet, hot, sucking around his cock. And it's pretty bloody spectacular, and Merlin wonders if Arthur has been thinking about this, been planning it and he groans at the thought.

Arthur's hand comes up and wraps around the rest of Merlin's cock. He swirls his tongue and Merlin is gone, so far gone he barely even hears the knock at the door. He can't miss it though when the door swings open and Uther Pendragon, when Arthur's father walks in. He pulls up short in the doorway, face gone white. He's staring, not at his son's head bent over another man's cock, but directly at Merlin.

"Arthur," he pleads, grabbing Arthur's shoulders and trying to shove him off.

"You can come in my mouth," he says, pulling off. "I don't mind."

"Arthur!"

"I want you to."

"ARTHUR PENDRAGON!"

Merlin scrambles for his zipper as Uther grabs Arthur's shoulder and hauls him up.

"What the fuck is going on here?"

"Dad, oh my god," he says and he sways on his feet. Merlin reaches for him instinctively and Uther rounds on him. "Don't fucking touch him. Arthur, get your things. Meet me at the car."

He slams the door behind him and Arthur turns to look at Merlin. "Oh my god."

"It's ok, come here, it's all right." He pulls Arthur into his arms and Arthur sobs against his chest.

"You don't understand."

"That's mortifying, I know, but you're 22, I mean, he has to know--"

"No, Merlin," he pulls away. His eyes are red and Merlin's heart clenches in his chest. "You don't understand. My father, I never told you this, Merlin, my father hates, he hates anything to do with homosexuality. I mean hates it. It's, you can't even begin to know, growing up, all the time, I heard about how evil it was and how vile and--"

"What century is your father living in?" He doesn't mean it to sound that harsh, but he can't stop the words, can't unsay them.

"You don't know, Merlin. My mother--"

"What? She what? Left him for another woman?"

"Yeah. They got into this huge fight, I was four, it's the only memory I have of her. They got into this huge fight and she left. It was raining and there was an accident--"

"Oh my god, Arthur." He reaches for him again, but Arthur moves back, rejects his comfort.

"I need to go."

"Arthur."

"No, I need to go." He grabs a bag and starts stuffing things in at random.

"Don't go like this."

"He's my father Merlin. I can't not go."

"You're an adult, Arthur. You can do whatever you want."

Arthur zips his bag. He looks up; his eyes lock on Merlin's face. He drops his bag and steps forward, winding his hands into Merlin's shirt and pulling him close. He presses their mouths together roughly, all lips and teeth. After a moment, he releases him. Merlin stumbles back.

Arthur picks up his bag and walks out the door, pulling it closed behind him.

Merlin doesn’t see him for the rest of the week. He doesn’t see him during exams. On a Friday, he packs his side of the room and boards a train to Ealdor. He never sees Arthur again, not once.

~*~

On Friday afternoon, Merlin is more than glad to trade the stuffy air of the classroom for the afternoon's bright sunshine. He tilts his face toward the sun and breathes in the warm air. He switches his mobile on and dials Arthur's number.

Arthur answers, breathless, halfway through the second ring. "Merlin."

"Hey."

"Merlin."

"Arthur."

"Where are you?"

"I just left my last exam.

"You're done."

"Yeah."

"With exams."

"Yes."

"Not with me."

Merlin grins. "No, not with you."

Arthur exhales loudly. "What are you doing now? Come to my flat."

"It's the middle of the day," he says. "Aren't you at work?"

"I can leave. There's nothing I need to--hang on, what?" His voice goes muffled and Merlin can hear another voice. After a moment, Arthur returns to the line.

"Merlin," he says, resigned. "I've apparenty got a meeting in ten minutes that I can't miss."

"All right."

"My assistant informs me that my presence is required."

"Arthur, it's really fine."

"You're sure?"

"I am."

Arthur exhales again. "Why don't you meet me at my flat in an hour?"

"Why don't I meet you for a drink?"

"You're worried I'm going to try to bed you."

"I'm worried I won't stop you."

Arthur laughs. Merlin joins him, feeling like something is shaking loose in his chest. He says "Is your assistant still in there?"

"Shut up."

"Prat."

"Idiot."

He ends the call and drops the phone into his pocket. It's going on four, it's a Friday, and it's blazing hot. Merlin isn't surprised to find the first few pubs he ducks into packed to overflowing. He finally finds a spot with two empty seats at the bar and Guinness on tap. He slides onto one of the stools and drops his bag on the other, refusing to move it when asked. He sends a text to Arthur with his location. Arthur replies with a stupid little smiley face that makes Merlin grin like a fool.

He nurses his drink slowly and is only three quarters of the way through it when feels Arthur slip onto the stool beside him.

"Hey," he says. "Thanks for waiting."

"No problem."

Arthur catches the bartender's eye, points at Merlin's glass, and holds up two fingers. They watch one another in the mirror behind the bar as their drinks are poured and placed before them. Arthur takes a deep drink and then flattens his hands on the bar.

"So," Merlin says.

"So," Arthur says.

"What about your dad?"

Arthur shrugs. "He's my dad. If he wants to be a part of my life, he'll learn to deal with it.

"I don't want to be something that's dealt with."

"I know, Merlin. Neither do I. I don't have all the answers."

Merlin sips his fresh pint. "Your job?"

"I"m good at my job. I don't think he'll sack me. And if he does, I've got a little money saved up. And, I dunno. I've been thinking about going back to school."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Law school."

Merlin grins. "You'd be a good lawyer."

"You think?"

Merlin touches the back of Arthur's hand. "I have, in the past, not frequently but on occasion, found you persuasive."

Arthur gives a sort of half laugh. "I don't know about the flat though. I don't think he'll let me keep it."

Merlin's heart is pounding as he says, "You'll figure something out."

"Yeah. I seem to recall your couch being pretty comfortable."

Merlin says, "My bed is even more so."

Arthur grins. "I remember." He clears his throat and says, "So what happened? What changed for you?"

Merlin casts around for words. He's spent a week thinking of what to say and now it's all deserted him. He finally takes a deep breath and says, "For so long, I've just -- I've detached myself. Just keep moving, Merlin. If you don't care, you can't get hurt. And then you." He reaches out and covers Arthur's hand where it rests on the bar. "And I'm just ruined, Arthur. You've wrecked me. This whole week, with my exams. It wasn't, I mean, it wasn't like I didn't care about them. I did, I do. I worked hard for this. I wanted it, wanted to do well. I just ... I wanted you there as well. I missed you. It's not a matter of whether or not I can live without you; I can. I just don't want to."

Arthur turns his hand over, palm up and presses his fingers between Merlin's.

"I'm yours," Merlin says simply. "Always have been."

"Come home with me," Arthur says urgently. "The rest of it, I know, we'll ... we'll do whatever we need to do but please, come home with me now."

They end up at Merlin's, by simple virtue of it being closer. Merlin is hardly aware of the walk there. He feels like he may fly apart at any minute and is grounded only by Arthur's strong fingers curled around his. Arthur closes the door behind them and reaches up, cradling Merlin's face and kissing him. Strong, undemanding fingers stroke Merlin's jaw, then the nape of his neck, then down his shoulders. Arthur begins peeling their clothes off, piece by piece, walking Merlin backwards towards the bedroom.

There was a time, Merlin can remember it so clearly, when he would have changed the pace of this, would have taken over and forced Arthur to kiss him rough and needy, couldn't bear to be laid so exposed, to risk Arthur unraveling his secrets. Now though, he knows that the only power Arthur has over him is the power Merlin gives him and he gives it all, willingly. It's both easier and incomparably harder. And he wonders about what he said to Arthur earlier, about being able to live without him, and he thinks maybe that was a lie. Because right now, it doesn't feel like that. Right now, they feel like an inevitability.

So, when Arthur has him completely bare, laid out on the bed and stretched out above him, Merlin says, even though he knows Arthur will tease him mercilessly later, "Make love to me."

Arthur rolls his hips once and drops his head onto Merlin's shoulder. "I want you to fuck me."

Merlin's world tilts off its axis and then rights itself. His fingers clench against Arthur's ribs. "I don't want to hurt you," he whispers.

"You won't."

"Have you done that before?"

Arthur shakes his head against Merlin's neck. "There hasn't been anyone but you. Like that, I mean."

"It can hurt, the first time."

Arthur lifts his head and flushes bright red. Merlin can actually feel the heat coming off his face. "I've been ... practicing. For you."

Merlin's grin takes over his entire face. "Why Arthur Pendragon, you complete slut."

"Really?" Arthur says, taking the defensive. "You want to tease me now? After you just said 'Make love to me,'?"

Merlin leans up and catches Arthur's mouth, wraps an arm around his waist, and rolls him over. Arthur makes a sound of protest, but goes, limbs askew as Merlin shifts down his body, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his neck, his chest, the slim waist, and narrow hips.

"What are you doing?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbows.

"I want this to be good for you," Merlin says, letting his breath ghost across Arthur's cock. "I want it to feel amazing. I want you begging for it."

With that, he takes the whole of Arthur's cock into his mouth. He swallows around the head of it and sinks down, feeling Arthur's balls drag across his chin. Arthur shouts and his body seizes up, hips flying off the mattress, and Merlin would grin, but he's busy. He pulls off and sinks back down again, works Arthur over with his mouth until he's spit slick and panting. Then he lifts his legs and nudges them around his shoulders. After a moment, Arthur gets the idea and wraps them around Merlin.

Merlin is trembling, they both are. He pulls off Arthur's cock one last time, then licks at his balls, the crease where his thigh meets his hip, then lower still, letting the tip of his tongue skate across Arthur's arsehole. Arthur quakes up and says "Je-jesus, Merlin, are you--"

He does it again and Arthur moans appreciatively above him. Merlin keeps his eyes trained on Arthur's leg. He wants, desperately, to look at the place where his tongue meets Arthur's skin, but he can't bring himself to do it. As it is, he's already rutting mindlessly against the duvet. He's hanging on by his fingernails.

Another quick swipe of the tongue and then Merlin closes his mouth over Arthur's entrance and presses in, as lightly as he can manage.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," chants Arthur. "Merlin, Merlin."

And his name sounds so fucking good like that he does it again and again and again until Arthur has pulled his own legs up, holding them behind his knees and baring himself to Merlin's gaze. And then, he has no choice but to look, to see Arthur soaking wet and wanting.

"Jesus fucking christ," he mutters against Arthur's skin.

"What?"

"You, Arthur. Goddamn, you."

Arthur leans over abruptly and starts scrambling around in Merlin's bedside table. He comes up with condoms and a bottle of lube and hurls them in Merlin's direction. Merlin grins and opens the bottle, wetting his fingers and pressing them between Arthur's legs.

"Oh god, oh god," he says, arching off the bed and Merlin presses into him. One finger slips right inside, so he adds another immediately. Arthur is hot, so hot and tight around him, clenching around his fingers and Merlin is dizzy with want. With his free hand and his teeth, he rips the foil packet open, rolls the condom onto himself, and returns his mouth to Arthur's cock. When Arthur is thrusting down on him, he presses another finger in and when Arthur starts grunting, he pulls his hand free.

He climbs Arthur's body like a tree and arranges his legs, wrapping them around his hips. "All right?"

Arthur is breathing like he's run a marathon. He whimpers. Merlin reaches beneath him and tilts Arthur's hips up, slides him into the perfect position. "Arthur, all right?"

Arthur's eyes snap open, unfocused. "What?" he gasps.

"All right?"

Arthur can't seem to process what he's being asked. He shakes his head in confusion and Merlin presses forward a bit, cock pressing lightly at his loosened hole. "All right?"

"What are you -- god, fucking hell, yes Merlin."

He presses in with one long, sure stroke. Arthur's mouth falls open and when he's possessing Arthur as fully as he can, Merlin says, "Arthur?"

Arthur gasps, "Yes."

"It hurts."

"Yes."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, " he says and he rolls his hips again. "Stay with me, Arthur, it's about to get so good."

And he rocks against him again and again, shifting minutely until finally Arthur's eyes glaze over and he moans. Merlin grins. "There?"

"Oh, god."

He thrusts again. "There, Arthur?"

"Jesus.."

He thrusts again, deliberately missing. "Or there?"

"Merlin, please."

He complies easily, fucking up into Arthur, rolling the gorgeous man beneath him onto his shoulder blades. He won't last long, and that's ok, he wants this to be good for Arthur, wants Arthur to want to do this again and again and again, so when Arthur reaches for his own cock and tugs it the three, four, five times it takes to come, he just watches, awestruck. Arthur clenches tightly around him and he presses in one last time and give into his own release.

He collapses against Arthur, breathes in his sweat damp skin. Eventually, Arthur nudges him off and Merlin rolls over to his side of the bed, spreading overheated limbs on cool sheets. When their breathing has steadied and silence settled over them like a blanket, Arthur says, "So what now?"

Merlin exhales loudly into the quiet room. "I'm thinking Chinese."

Arthur's hand fumbles across the sheets. It slips into Merlin's and Merlin spreads his fingers wide, letting Arthur slide into the places between. He squeezes Arthur's hand. Arthur squeezes back.

make a note, bitches

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 01:31:01 GMT

half a bottle of ~~raspberry~~ blackberry wine is a lot. goddamn, I wish I had some chocolate cake.

help?

Fri, 16 Oct 2009 21:54:21 GMT

Do I have any Merlin fans here who would be interested in reading the first 1000-1500 words of two fics and giving some feedback? I'm trying to decide where to focus my energies.

Both fics will eventually be NC-17, if that matters.

The fic that wrote itself

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 14:39:50 GMT

So last night, bewarethesmirk mentioned that she'd like to read a Merlin/Morgana and Gwen/Arthur double date fic for the potential Angry!Sex, and then this fic walked fully formed into my head and baked a batch of cookies. I'm not sure if it's exactly what you wanted, babe, but here you go, none the less. Consider this a thank you for showing me the way of Merlin.

Betaed by the glorious norwegianblue47, possibly so I'd get back to writing her Arthur in the Stocks! fic. Much love!

Title: Double Date
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur with a side of Gwen/Arthur and Merlin/Morgana. Kind of. Not really.
Rating: NC-17
Length: 3700 exactly!
Summary: "It's a good idea," Merlin interrupted, and it was. A double date was exactly what he needed to take his mind off the really inappropriate thoughts he was starting to have about his best mate. Continuing to have. Whatever, it was a good idea. Modern AU!
Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing, except the mistakes. Please feel free to point them out.

The curve of Arthur's neck was something, really. Pale and smooth and white, a stark contrast to the miles and miles of golden skin that covered the rest of his body. Well, that Merlin assumed covered the rest of his body. It wasn't as though he'd actually seen all of Arthur's body. Pity, that.

"What?"

"What?"

"You're staring at me."

Merlin shook his head and shuffled the papers in his lap. "No, just thinking. Sorry, I was just..."

"Bloody exams," Arthur said darkly, returning to his books.

"Bloody exams," Merlin agreed and resumed staring at the back of Arthur's neck.

~*~

"So, we should go on a date."

Merlin glanced up from his toast. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, god, no, not like that," Gwen said quickly, holding up her hands as if to fend off any wayward advances Merlin might make on her. "A double date. I was thinking we could set one another up, you know. On a date. A double date."

"Oh."

"We don't have to, or anything," Gwen rambled on. "I just thought, you haven't been out with anyone in ages, and between work and school--"

"It's a good idea," Merlin interrupted, and it was. Exactly what he needed to take his mind off the really inappropriate thoughts he was starting to have about his best mate. Continuing to have. Whatever, it was a good idea.

"Good, then," said Gwen. She smiled brilliantly. "What about the beautiful blond you're always carrying around?"

~*~

"Listen."

"Listen to what?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "Listen to me."

"You're not saying anything."

"I said "Listen."

"Are you listening to yourself?"

"OK," Merlin said, holding up his hands. "Stop saying saying "Listen". The word has lost all meaning."

Arthur drained his pint. "Fine by me." He threw Merlin a sideways grin.

Merlin cleared his throat. "Right, so...listen."

Arthur quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, shut up."

"You're quite demanding today."

"I was thinking we should go on a double date," Merlin blurted out.

"I told you, honey, if you want to go out in public you need to improve your table manners," Arthur said. He reached across the table for Merlin's half-finished drink.

"Ha, ha, aren't you clever," Merlin retorted, trying to keep the color off his cheeks. Hearing Arthur talk like that, even in jest, especially with a bit of alcohol in him was disconcerting and unsettling. "No, I was thinking, do you remember my friend Gwen?"

Arthur frowned. "Which one is she?"

"Dark hair," Merlin said. "Curly, really pretty."

Arthur's eyebrows drew together in concentration. "Nope, don't remember her."

"Oh, well." Merlin flicked an imaginary piece of lint off his sleeve. "I have this friend Gwen."

"Dark hair, really pretty?"

"Do you want to or not?"

Arthur drained Merlin's beer and signaled for another round. "Sure, why not?"

~*~

Arthur was waiting for Merlin outside Gwen's flat, leaning casually against the wall in jean and a black military jacket that set off his cheekbones, and god, he wasn't even giving a person a chance.

"I brought wine," he said as he approached, and Arthur clapped him on the shoulder.

"Of course you did," he said and he followed Merlin into the lift and down to Gwen's door. Merlin knocked and Gwen opened the door a moment later, a pale lavender dress clinging to her curves. Merlin wanted to scowl at her.

"We brought wine," Arthur said, shoving Merlin slightly into the flat. "I'm Arthur, by the way."

Gwen held her hand out. "Gwen. Guinevere."

"Well, Gwen, Guinevere, can you show me where to put my jacket."

Gwen smiled. "I'll take it," she said, and Arthur peeled it off and handed to her. Then he turned around and froze. "Morgana?"

Merlin tore his eyes away from Gwen and Arthur to look, finally, at the fourth person in the room. Standing in the kitchen with a red apron wrapped around her thin frame was the most beautiful woman Merlin had ever seen. She was tall and thin, almost ethereal in her pale skin with black hair that hung in waves down her back. She looked for all the world like a painting in want of an artist.

"Arthur?" she said, and she pointed her spatula at him. "What the hell are you wearing?"

"You two know each other?" Gwen said, looking from Morgana to Arthur's too tight black shirt. She looked as though she might faint and Merlin thought he might want to catch her, if only to have something to cushion his fall when he swooned himself.

"Too well," Arthur replied.

"Not in a biblical sense or anything," Morgana said quickly, glancing at Gwen. "We grew up together, actually. Our fathers were best friends."

"Oh," said Gwen and she glanced around the room again.

"Wine!" Merlin announced. He held the bottle aloft.

"Oh, you must think me so rude," Morgana said, hurrying over to take Merlin's hand. "I'm Morgana."

"Merlin," he replied, with a quick squeeze to her hand. She was stunning, positively stunning. Merlin felt nothing.

"Gwen's told me so much about you."

"It's all true," Arthur said. "All the bad stuff, anyway."

"Wine, I think," Gwen said, and she disappeared for a moment before returning with glasses and a corkscrew. She poured a measure for each of them and looked helplessly at Merlin. As well as he knew her, he couldn't for the life of him tell what she was trying to say. He shrugged and tipped his glass back.

~*~

"So what do you do?" Arthur said, once they were all seated at the table. He stabbed his chicken with his fork and Merlin frowned. Arthur never had any trouble turning the charm on full force, and Merlin couldn't understand his foul mood. Gwen was beautiful and funny and kind and Arthur should be tripping over himself to get to know her. Instead, he'd stuck close to Merlin's side during the small talk while they waited on dinner, grudgingly accepted a seat beside Gwen at the table and downed two glasses of wine so that his cheeks were already pink and his lips were stained in a way that was making Merlin think Thoughts.

"I..." Gwen glanced at Morgana. "For work or pleasure?"

Arthur shrugged. "Pleasure, I guess."

"I, uh..." Gwen glanced at Merlin. "I like to make jewelry."

"She's really good at it," Morgana interjected and Gwen smiled at her gratefully.

"What about you, Morgana?" Merlin asked. Arthur reached for the wine bottle.

"Oh, lots of things."

"She's primarily a man eater," Arthur replied, filling his glass.

"Arthur!"

"Well, you are."

Gwen shot Merlin a look. He grimaced and tried to telepathically remind her that this was her idea.

"More wine, Merlin?" Morgana asked. She tried to take the bottle from Arthur.

"Merlin doesn't need more wine."

"Merlin would love more," Merlin said, frowning at Arthur.

"You know you can't drink wine," he said.

"Why not?"

"It makes you--" he made a vague gesture. Morgana snorted into her wine glass.

"It doesn't make me--" Merlin made the gesture as well.

"Yes it does," Gwen said, "but drink up anyway. Somebody ought to--" and she made the gesture as well. Morgana tossed her head back and laughed.

"So what kind of jewelry do you make?" Arthur asked. He glared at Merlin and refilled his glass.

"Rings, mostly," Gwen replied. "And earrings."

"Did you make that one?" Arthur asked, pointing at the silver band on Gwen's thumb.

"Oh." She shook her head. "No."

Arthur stabbed another piece of chicken. "All right."

~*~

After dinner, Gwen insisted on doing the dishes and Morgana insisted Arthur help. She found another bottle of wine in Gwen's fridge and opened it, pouring herself and Merlin another glass each as the collapsed onto the couch. Merlin was feeling pleasantly buzzed and more than a little relieved that Gwen and Arthur weren't hitting it off. He didn't want Gwen to be unhappy, but the more pressing issue of not having to watch Arthur make out with anyone right in front of his face was a great consolation.

"So," Morgana said conspiratorially as she kicked off her shoes and crossed her legs in Merlin's lap. "You and Arthur?"

"What? Me and Arthur what?"

Morgana raised her eyebrows.

"No! No, definitely not, no, Arthur isn't, I mean. Not that I'm--"

Morgana dissolved into giggles. She didn't really seem like the giggling type, but she had drank a lot and was very, very small. "You're so obvious."

"Not obvious enough," Merlin muttered and Morgana collapsed onto his chest.

"Gwen doesn't know?"

"Gwen doesn't even know I'm gay."

Morgana sat up and gave him a once over. "Really?"

"No, why? Is that obvious too?"

She shrugged. "Maybe just because I know Arthur; I've seen too many people stare at him that way."

Merlin scowled. "I could do without that."

Morgana laid a hand on his arm. "No, Merlin, I didn't mean--"

"Well you two look cozy." Arthur walked back into the living room, drying his hands on what were certainly his very expensive jeans. He had a dark look on his face that Merlin couldn't possibly interpret. Gwen followed behind him. She looked at Merlin and Morgana on the couch and gave them a weak smile.

"So what now?" she said, sounding like the likely answer was 'a blow to the head'.

"We could play poker," Arthur said, poking at a deck of cards on Gwen's bookshelf.

"We haven't any money," said Merlin.

"Strip poker then," said Morgana.

"And we're not 16."

She collapsed on Merlin again and Gwen's smile melted into a frown. "I think I'm actually going to call it an evening," she said. "If no one minds."

Arthur collected his jacket with unflattering speed and excused himself to the toilet. Merlin walked over to Gwen and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Sorry," he muttered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

"No, I'm sorry. This was a bad idea."

"Merlin," said Morgana. "Give me your phone."

He handed her his mobile and she punched her number into it. "Drinks, yeah?"

He grinned at her. "Definitely."

Arthur cleared his throat from the doorway and looked uncomfortably around the room. "So, thanks for dinner."

Gwen smiled and held out her hand. "My pleasure."

"I'll let myself out."

"I'll call you later, Gwen, yeah?" said Merlin and Arthur raised his eyebrows. "You coming?"

"Yeah." He kissed both girls on the cheek and shoved his phone into his pocket. "I"ll call you."

They were halfway out the door when Morgana walked over to Gwen and wrapped her arms around her. Merlin didn't miss the way Gwen seemed to unfurl against Morgana body and he paused, one hand on the doorknob. He raised his eyebrows at them and Morgana shrugged. "Obvious," she mouthed and Merlin winked at her. By the time he had closed the door behind him, Arthur was gone.

~*~

Merlin didn't bother knocking on the door to Arthur's flat. He unlocked the door and shoved it open, unsurprised to find Arthur sitting on his kitchen counter, an open beer in his hand.

"Next time we go out on a double date, maybe you could try not to be such a complete arse to my friend," he said. He tossed his keys on the table and walked around to face Arthur. "You think that would be possible?"

Arthur snorted. "No more double dates, then."

"Yeah, that's probably a good place to start."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Arthur tipped his beer back. "Are you drunk?"

"Not yet, no."

"What is your problem?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "If you don't know--"

"Oh, don't be a woman."

"Go to hell, Merlin."

"Is this about Morgana? Because--" He was cut off by the beeping from his back pocket. Arthur lifted his beer in a mock toast and said "Your girlfriend, I presume."

"She's not my girlfriend." He opened his phone and found a text from Morgana.

If you don't have his pants off yet, I'm sorely disappointed.

Merlin grinned.

"You didn't have to leave," Arthur said. "You were having such a good time."

"Honestly, Arthur, what is wrong with you? You're being rude to me which is, granted, nothing new, but Gwen didn't--"

In one swift movement, Arthur had slammed his beer bottle onto the counter, leapt to his feet, wrapped his hands in Merlin's shirt and shoved him back against the wall. "I don't want to fucking talk about this."

Merlin swallowed. The entire length of Arthur's body was pressed against his, hot through his clothes and unless Merlin was terribly mistaken...but he wasn't, he couldn't be because Arthur was staring at his mouth, his mouth and a thousand thoughts Merlin had never allowed himself to fully entertain collided in his head and he leaned towards Arthur or maybe Arthur leaned towards him, but suddenly they were kissing, Arthur's mouth hard and possessive against his own.

He licked into Merlin's mouth, stubble scraping against his chin. He tasted bitter, of beer. It was heavenly and when he tongue retreated into his own mouth, Merlin chased after it.

"If you're just doing this--" Arthur breathed against him. "If you're just--"

"Shut up," Merlin demanded. He buried his hands in Arthur's hair and pressed his their foreheads together. He moved his hips against Arthur's, cocks dragging together through too many layers of cloth and Arthur groaned. "You can't feel that? It's you, Arthur, it's always--"

Arthur slammed their mouths together again. It was dirty and messy and Merlin hadn't kissed anyone like this since he was fourteen, and just learning how, when everything was too much and not enough all at the same time.

"I need," Arthur panted. "I need--"

"What, what do you need?"

"Horizontal surface," he replied and he pulled Merlin to the floor.

"You don't have a horizontal surface not covered in wood?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows and covered Merlin's cock with his hand.

"This is good," Merlin groaned. "The floor is good."

The rasp of his zipper was deafening in the small flat and Merlin's breaths seemed unnaturally loud. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to find some semblance of control as Arthur tugged at his jeans. "Up," he said and Merlin lifted his hips obediently. A moment later, there was wet heat around the head of his cock and Merlin bucked up off the floor. "God, Jesus, Arthur."

Arthur grinned, sucked the tip into his mouth one more time and then pulled off. "The holy trinity."

"Arrogant," Merlin replied and he shoved at Arthur until he rolled over. He kicked his jeans off and yanked his shirt over his head, then started in on Arthur's clothes.

"When I saw you tonight," he said, flicking open the buttons on Arthur's jacket. "God, Arthur, I thought--"

"What did you think?"

He shoved Arthur shirt up and smoothed a hand down Arthur's flat stomach. Golden, just like he thought. "I thought I'd die if I couldn't get my hands on you." He pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Arthur's sternum, then another and another, down the planes of his stomach until he got to his jeans. He reached for the button, but Arthur's hand closed around his wrist.

"You first," he said and he flipped them back over, discarding his own jacket and shirt on the floor and descending on Merlin's cock again. Merlin shouted wordlessly and tried, and failed, to keep his hips on the floor. If it wasn't the most skillful blow job he'd ever had, it was certainly the most enthusiastic. He felt like he was melting into something else entirely, anchored to his own body just by the heat around his cock and the solid bulk of Arthur's body pressed against his legs.

"Hold yourself open," said Arthur and he shoved at Merlin's knees a bit. "I want to see you."

Without the slightest bit of hesitation or embarrassment, Merlin pulled his legs up, hooking his knees with his hands and baring himself to Arthur's intent gaze. Arthur groaned and buried his face against Merlin's leg. He bit down there, then soothed the bite with his tongue.

Merlin's hips were working restlessly against nothing. It was too much, too much to bear. It was Arthur.

"Arthur, Arthur," Merlin chanted. "Please."

Cool air skirted across his entrance, followed swiftly by the heat of Arthur's mouth. He licked a broad stripe over Merlin's arsehole, the up the length of his cock. He did it again and again until Merlin could feel the wetness dripping down the crease of his thighs. Then Arthur's hands were on him, thumbs on either side of his hole and he pressed them, pulling him open and licking him again and again.

"Oh God, oh God, Arthur." He yanked on Arthur's hair and pulled him up, breath hitching in his chest. He looked wrecked, perfect hair plastered across his forehead, mouth red and swollen, face slicked with his own spit. Merlin bucked up, cock dragging against Arthur's cheek.

"Do you have something?" he demanded.

"Have what?"

"Something. Condoms, lube."

"Fuck." Arthur's head dropped to Merlin's stomach. "Really?"

Merlin shot him an incredulous look.

"Bedroom, then," he said, dragging Merlin to his feet. They made it there, eventually, stopping twice to kiss pressed up against one another, Merlin pinned to the wall. When they finally made it to the bedroom, Arthur shoved Merlin onto the bed and disappeared to rummage around in his dresser. Merlin rolled over and buried his face in Arthur's pillow. God, the fantasies he'd had about this bed.

"Roll the fuck over," Arthur demanded, grabbing Merlin's hip and pulling him onto his back. "I want to see you.

It was dark in the room save the weak light of a street lamp filtering in through the curtains, and Arthur looked gorgeous in it, jean unfastened and slung low on his hips. Merlin's eyes followed the trail of pale hair leading into his waistband.

"Arthur," he breathed. Arthur smiled at him and tossed clear bottle and a foil packet onto the bed.

"Merlin."

He wrapped one hand around Merlin's ankle and tugged him slightly, then crawled up his body. He braced himself above Merlin with one arm and kissed him. Merlin arched up into it. If he had a thousand lifetimes to kiss Arthur, he didn't think he'd get enough. It was intoxicating, heady for Arthur to be so focused on him, like his entire universe centered on Merlin's mouth.

"I'm gonna touch you now," he murmured against Merlin's mouth. "Stretch you out."

His fingers were slick between Merlin's cheeks. He tried to shove down onto them. Arthur stilled his hand. "Don't. Let me."

Slowly, slow exquisite torture, one finger pressed up into him. It didn't burn, didn't stretch, wasn't enough, not nearly enough.

"Arthur," he demanded. His voice sounded broken to his own ears.

Another finger entered him. Merlin exhaled. Better, almost there, almost enough. He clenched around the fingers inside him and Arthur groaned.

"More?" he asked and Merlin moaned. He could feel Arthur's grin against his mouth. "I had no idea you were such a slut."

Merlin had half a mind to protest, but then another finger breached him and that half dwindled to nothing and he rocked against Arthur's fingers.

"Gonna fuck you now," Arthur said. He pulled out and there was a rustling as he ripped the condom open and shoved his jeans down his hips. He hitched Merlin's legs up around his hips and positioned himself.

"Look at me," Merlin demanded and Arthur's eyes snapped up to his face. He pressed in slowly, and the scrape of his zipper up Merlin's thigh, that counterpoint, the slight pain against the unbelievable pleasure of Arthur sliding into him was enough to keep Merlin on edge, to stop him embarrassing himself like some goddamn virgin.

Then Arthur pulled out entirely and grimaced. Merlin pressed himself up on his elbows. "What?" he demanded. Then "What?" again, louder when Arthur didn't answer.

"Arthur?"

"Will you just--"

"What's wrong?"

"I'm trying not to come, you arse, could you please shut up."

Merlin grinned and collapsed back onto the bed, canting his hips up at Arthur. Arthur groaned and gripped him with one hand, thumb pressing into the soft flesh below the sharp jut of his hipbone.

"Goddamn it, Merlin."

A shrill ringing cut through the air, and Arthur froze. His eyes blazed and without warning, he tipped Merlin's hips up and pressed into him in one slow, burning slide. Merlin's mouth fell open and he tossed his head back.

"No," Arthur said, his voice low and rough and so near Merlin's ear he could feel the heat of his breath.

"No, what?"

"No, whoever was on that phone."

He pulled back and slammed his hips forward again, making Merlin bow under the force of it. "I don't--"

"No to Morgana or Gwen or anyone else who wants you."

"Morgana doesn't--"

He rolled his hips again. "I said no."

"Yes, yes, fine no, please just--"

And after that, Arthur was relentless, merciless, hips slamming forward again and again, angling perfectly, there, just there. It didn't take long, not long at all until Arthur lost his rhythm and thrust in recklessly. His head hung forward between his shoulders and he was gorgeous, gorgeous.

He stilled above Merlin and caught his breath, then shoved in one more time and groaned, deep in his throat and that, the sound of it, and Arthur above him, his cock trapped between their bodies and the rough friction Arthur's stomach, his unsteady breaths, it sent Merlin chasing after him, a blinding rush of light behind his eyes.

He winced when Arthur pulled out and collapsed beside him. They breathed together for the longest time. Eventually, the stickiness got to Merlin and he pushed himself off the bed. "Where are you going?"

"Shower. You coming?"

A ringing sounded again from the kitchen. "Phone's ringing again," Arthur muttered. He grabbed a towel from a shelf and tossed it at Merlin. Merlin tossed it on the counter and turned the water on. He stepped in and pulled Arthur in with him. "Leave it."

sorry, don't mind me

Thu, 08 Oct 2009 13:52:14 GMT

just reposting this. please ignore.

"Do you think you could," Ron said, through clenched teeth, "Do you think it would be possible for you, for five goddamn seconds to stop being such a complete fucking asshole?"

Draco shrugged one thin shoulder. "I could try."

Ron exhaled loudly. "Thank you."

"But I won't."

His hands curled into fists and he grabbed bunches of Draco's perfectly pressed robes, spun him around and slammed him hard into the wall. "Goddamn it, Malfoy."

"Whenever you're finished having your little identity crisis," Draco said, disdain written across his pointed features, and Ron unclenched his hands, stepping away.

"And that figures," Draco said, reaching up to straighten his robes. "Can't even do this proper-"

But that was all he managed; Ron closed the distance between them and before he knew it, his fist had connected with Malfoy's chin. His head snapped back, perfect hair flying, his head rebounding on the wall.

His eyes connected with Ron's and then-then, he laughed. Fucking laughed right in his face, and Ron's arm was back again and he let fly, let loose 18 years of anger, of inferiority, of wanting and never getting. He felt it connect, felt Malfoy's lip split, felt the crack in his own hand.

Draco's hand came up, wiped at his mouth. It came away red, and he grinned down at his fingers, then up at Ron. His eyes were cold, steel gray.

"Good," he said. "Better."

This is NOT what I should be writing.

Tue, 06 Oct 2009 18:32:30 GMT

Here, have some Merlin/Arthur porn. PWP, seriously. 700 words. And can we please, pretty please pretend that the first thing I'm posting in this brilliant fandom is not just totally dirty smut? Yes? Ok. I have two other stories in the works that I swear are more redeeming than this. Also, I'm a total n00b, and don't know anything about Merlin comms, so if someone knows somewhere this would be welcome...

Big thanks to abigail89 for the quick beta. Any mistakes, obviously mine. Don't own. If I did, well, series two would be a sight to see.

Title: How to Get Lucky
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur chose this night specifically, knowing the Solstice Feast would go on well into the night, that darkness would come early and that it would be too cold for anyone sane to venture outside.

"This is a bad idea."

"No, it isn't. This was my idea, and is therefore a brilliant one."

"No, Arthur," Merlin says, Arthur's hand at his back, propelling him forward. "It's a really, really bad idea."

"Here," Arthur says needlessly as they reach the stocks. Merlin can see his eyes glinting, even in the darkness.

"Arthur," he says again, a protest, but it dies on his lips as Arthur arches one eyebrow. "What?"

"Unlace me," he says.

"Oh, for God's sake--" But he does it anyway, nimble fingers on Arthur's trousers. He glances around, but there is nothing to see. The courtyard is deserted, as it was meant to be. Arthur chose this night specifically, knowing the Solstice Feast would go on well into the night, that darkness would come early and that it would be too cold for anyone sane to venture outside.

"Up you go, there's a good lad," Arthur says and he manhandles Merlin into the stocks. He considers resisting, but it won't do any good. Arthur won't be deterred when he gets his mind set on something, yet another trait they have in common. He glares at Arthur as he arranges him roughly, then drops the bar.

"You don't have to lock it!" Another feeble protest; of course Arthur will do the thing properly.

"Shh," Arthur says quietly as he steps back around to face Merlin. He runs a thumb, gentle, along Merlin's bottom lip. "You don't want people to hear do you? Besides, the time to complain," the pale moonlight illuminates his cock, pale white skin as he pulls it from his trousers and feeds it into Merlin's mouth, "the time to complain, ah, was before your mouth was full."

And he has a point, Merlin concedes. He doesn't want people to hear and while he can't exactly cast a spell with his mouth full of cock, he could will things to happen long before he had a magic book, so he closes his eyes and simply forces everyone away from the courtyard tonight.

"Hey," Arthur says roughly. "Open your eyes. Look at me."

So he does, and what he sees makes him realize that not only is having Arthur fuck his mouth while he's locked in the stocks made him hard, it's made him achingly, unbearably hard and he can find no relief, none. There is no friction and he can't even move his fucking hands. And besides, what would he do if he could get his hands free? Not put them on himself, surely. He'd wrap one around the base of Arthur's cock, maybe slick the other and press it into Arthur.

But no. He can't do any of that, can't do anything except stare up at Arthur, beautiful in the moonlight, and suck.

"That's good," Arthur murmurs. "Like that."

He can't seem to decide what to do with his hands. He braces them above Merlin's head, then threads his fingers into his hair; he reaches down and presses his thumb to the corner of Merlin's mouth.

"You look good like that," he says. "Helpless." He presses in deeper and Merlin's eyes widen. He swallows around the cock pressing into his throat and Arthur groans. "Take it, take it," he chants, and then he freezes, his thumb pressing harder against the Merlin's mouth. Merlin supposes it's a warning, for all the good it does him. There's no where to go, and his mouth is flooded with come, hot and bitter, with Arthur, and he swallows as much as he can.

Arthur's head drops and Merlin imagines the moonlight, silver on the curve of his neck. "Merlin," he whispers. "Merlin, Merlin."

"Damn you, Arthur," he groans, and he's free a moment later and Arthur has his hand down his trousers. It takes nothing, barely more than a press of rough fingers and he's coming, spilling over Arthur's hand, hardly able to remain on his feet.

When he comes back to himself, he lifts his head and quirks an eyebrow at Arthur. Arthur grins. In the darkness, it's blinding. He presses his mouth to Merlin's and murmurs "Lucky no one saw us."

And Merlin laughs against Arthur's mouth, because right. Lucky.

agenda

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 16:04:58 GMT

I WILL be productive today. I've got a box full of cleaning supplies and an entire childfree afternoon stretching out ahead of me. Is it sad that I'm excited about this? Yes? Thought so.

What are you guys doing today?