Merlin should have known it would only be a matter of time.
Arthur had what Merlin considered to be a frankly unhealthy predilection for sleeping shirtless. Every night, Merlin would help him undress, and put him in his sleeping shift. Every morning, without exception, Arthur would be shirtless. Usually sprawled out, golden hair falling artfully across his forehead, limbs bathed in warm, pale sunlight. Sometimes he suspected Arthur was doing it on purpose.
It made him sick.
This morning was no different.
"Late again," Arthur drawled, sitting on the edge of his bed, running calloused hands through his sleep ruffled hair.
"Yes, sire," Merlin replied through clenched teeth, setting Arthur's breakfast on the table and turning to face the prince. Arthur smirked at him.
"Well don't just stand there like an idiot, get my clothes," he ordered, standing up and stretching.
Merlin's retort was on his lips immediately, until his brain was involuntarily hijacked for the much more pleasant task of simply staring at Arthur.
It started with Arthur forcing his shoulders down, tilting his head to one side, and straining his neck, apparently trying to work out a kink it had developed in the night. He rolled his head around, grimacing slightly, hand coming up to ease the tense muscles of his neck.
Merlin was perfectly aware that he was staring, and was rather disturbed to find himself without the power to stop.
Arthur's powerful arms stretched out behind him as he linked his hands together and forced his chest out. His broad, strong chest, with just a smattering of light golden curls across it, Merlin noted a little wildly. Arthur continued to stretch, his head dropping down again, straining his neck once more. He hummed slightly, clearly finding the experience pleasurable.
He's not the only one, part of Merlin's brain supplied. He tried to frown at it, but it ignored him in favour of voicing its appreciation of Arthur's sculpted stomach.
Arthur looked up suddenly, his quite unfairly blue eyes fixed on Merlin's. They narrowed slightly, then brightened, and a small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. He brought his right hand up to his left shoulder and massaged the muscle.
"Merlin," he began, his face taking on the mischievous look which never boded well for Merlin. "Merlin, I seem to have pulled a muscle in training yesterday."
"Hmmm?" was the best Merlin could offer, distracted by the ripple of Arthur's biceps as he massaged his own shoulder.
Arthur grinned at him, a knowing, almost smug smile that Merlin had the strongest urge to kiss off his face. In fact, he had the strongest urge to kiss Arthur until he had forgotten how to be a prat entirely. It might take a long time, but Merlin was willing to put in the effort. It was for the public good, after all.
No, he told himself firmly. That's not helping.
"Rub that ointment Gaius sent up on it," he demanded, no hint of a request in his voice.
"Would it really kill you to simply ask nicely for once?" Merlin sniped back, feeling a little more at ease now that they were bickering. Nervertheless, he fetched the ointment from Arthur's dresser.
"You're my servant, Merlin. I don't have to ask you to do anything."
Arthur sat back down on the bed, his back to Merlin. Merlin now had a first class view of Arthur's back, the lines of his shoulder blades down to his waist, the bumps of his spine surprisingly visible, just begging Merlin to place kisses between each one, dropping down to his perfectly -
"Merlin!"
He jumped guiltily, and moved forward to sit behind Arthur. He carefully unscrewed the pot, trying not to look at Arthur, and rubbed the ointment over his hands, warming it.
"I'm not a girl, Merlin," Arthur whined, "Just get on with it."
Arthur/Merlin, Arthur being shirtless makes them do it (1/4)
Arthur had what Merlin considered to be a frankly unhealthy predilection for sleeping shirtless. Every night, Merlin would help him undress, and put him in his sleeping shift. Every morning, without exception, Arthur would be shirtless. Usually sprawled out, golden hair falling artfully across his forehead, limbs bathed in warm, pale sunlight. Sometimes he suspected Arthur was doing it on purpose.
It made him sick.
This morning was no different.
"Late again," Arthur drawled, sitting on the edge of his bed, running calloused hands through his sleep ruffled hair.
"Yes, sire," Merlin replied through clenched teeth, setting Arthur's breakfast on the table and turning to face the prince. Arthur smirked at him.
"Well don't just stand there like an idiot, get my clothes," he ordered, standing up and stretching.
Merlin's retort was on his lips immediately, until his brain was involuntarily hijacked for the much more pleasant task of simply staring at Arthur.
It started with Arthur forcing his shoulders down, tilting his head to one side, and straining his neck, apparently trying to work out a kink it had developed in the night. He rolled his head around, grimacing slightly, hand coming up to ease the tense muscles of his neck.
Merlin was perfectly aware that he was staring, and was rather disturbed to find himself without the power to stop.
Arthur's powerful arms stretched out behind him as he linked his hands together and forced his chest out. His broad, strong chest, with just a smattering of light golden curls across it, Merlin noted a little wildly. Arthur continued to stretch, his head dropping down again, straining his neck once more. He hummed slightly, clearly finding the experience pleasurable.
He's not the only one, part of Merlin's brain supplied. He tried to frown at it, but it ignored him in favour of voicing its appreciation of Arthur's sculpted stomach.
Arthur looked up suddenly, his quite unfairly blue eyes fixed on Merlin's. They narrowed slightly, then brightened, and a small smile tugged at Arthur's lips. He brought his right hand up to his left shoulder and massaged the muscle.
"Merlin," he began, his face taking on the mischievous look which never boded well for Merlin. "Merlin, I seem to have pulled a muscle in training yesterday."
"Hmmm?" was the best Merlin could offer, distracted by the ripple of Arthur's biceps as he massaged his own shoulder.
Arthur grinned at him, a knowing, almost smug smile that Merlin had the strongest urge to kiss off his face. In fact, he had the strongest urge to kiss Arthur until he had forgotten how to be a prat entirely. It might take a long time, but Merlin was willing to put in the effort. It was for the public good, after all.
No, he told himself firmly. That's not helping.
"Rub that ointment Gaius sent up on it," he demanded, no hint of a request in his voice.
"Would it really kill you to simply ask nicely for once?" Merlin sniped back, feeling a little more at ease now that they were bickering. Nervertheless, he fetched the ointment from Arthur's dresser.
"You're my servant, Merlin. I don't have to ask you to do anything."
Arthur sat back down on the bed, his back to Merlin. Merlin now had a first class view of Arthur's back, the lines of his shoulder blades down to his waist, the bumps of his spine surprisingly visible, just begging Merlin to place kisses between each one, dropping down to his perfectly -
"Merlin!"
He jumped guiltily, and moved forward to sit behind Arthur. He carefully unscrewed the pot, trying not to look at Arthur, and rubbed the ointment over his hands, warming it.
"I'm not a girl, Merlin," Arthur whined, "Just get on with it."
Merlin was more than happy to oblige.