“I don’t even want to be here,” said Arthur, tugging off his t-shirt and flinging it somewhere in the direction of the wardrobe.
“Well no-one’s forcing you to— Ah!” Merlin’s voice cut off abruptly as Arthur bit down hard on his collar bone, then licked over the darkened skin. He wriggled one hand free and slid it over Arthur’s newly exposed chest, bronzed and utterly fucking perfect in the orange glow of the street lamp shining through his thin curtains. For a second they could have been somewhere else entirely, it was only the lack of scars that jolted him back to the present. Merlin bucked up against the weight that covered him.
“I—” His voice stuttered when Arthur pressed back down, pinning him at the hips, “I don’t want to be here either,” he managed, voice too breathless to be entirely believable.
“Good,” Arthur gasped above him, shifting under he fit even more comfortably between Merlin’s thighs, splayed open like they could climb inside each other and it still wouldn’t be enough. “So long as we’re clear.”
“This is just... a thing,” Merlin said into the sweaty hollow of Arthur’s throat.
“Yeah.” Arthur’s hands were gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise. “You’re still fucking annoying.”
“You too,” said Merlin, because this was how they were, after all, and this was how it always started, with a challenge, angry words and pushing, always pushing at each other, before they fought their way to something better.
Sometimes destiny let them get there by themselves, and sometimes it got really tired of waiting.
“Shit,” said Arthur, when Merlin’s fingers unerringly found their goal. He dropped his head to Merlin’s bony shoulder and panted. “If anyone asks, we were drunk.”
“Works for me,” said Merlin, and pulled Arthur into a kiss.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
Arthur/Merlin Destiny made them do it.
Date: 2011-03-04 05:06 pm (UTC).....
“I don’t even want to be here,” said Arthur, tugging off his t-shirt and flinging it somewhere in the direction of the wardrobe.
“Well no-one’s forcing you to— Ah!” Merlin’s voice cut off abruptly as Arthur bit down hard on his collar bone, then licked over the darkened skin. He wriggled one hand free and slid it over Arthur’s newly exposed chest, bronzed and utterly fucking perfect in the orange glow of the street lamp shining through his thin curtains. For a second they could have been somewhere else entirely, it was only the lack of scars that jolted him back to the present. Merlin bucked up against the weight that covered him.
“I—” His voice stuttered when Arthur pressed back down, pinning him at the hips, “I don’t want to be here either,” he managed, voice too breathless to be entirely believable.
“Good,” Arthur gasped above him, shifting under he fit even more comfortably between Merlin’s thighs, splayed open like they could climb inside each other and it still wouldn’t be enough. “So long as we’re clear.”
“This is just... a thing,” Merlin said into the sweaty hollow of Arthur’s throat.
“Yeah.” Arthur’s hands were gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise. “You’re still fucking annoying.”
“You too,” said Merlin, because this was how they were, after all, and this was how it always started, with a challenge, angry words and pushing, always pushing at each other, before they fought their way to something better.
Sometimes destiny let them get there by themselves, and sometimes it got really tired of waiting.
“Shit,” said Arthur, when Merlin’s fingers unerringly found their goal. He dropped his head to Merlin’s bony shoulder and panted. “If anyone asks, we were drunk.”
“Works for me,” said Merlin, and pulled Arthur into a kiss.
The End.