Finally, Merlin is naked, spread out on Arthur's bed, and Arthur doesn't know where to look first. Merlin's beautiful - shoulders broader then they seem, slim, boyish hips, long, long legs that Arthur can't wait to have around his waist.
There are scars peppering his body; small ones on his chest and legs, memories of hurts that make Arthur's blood cold, and he wants to kiss them all, to reward Merlin for every cut he's ever taken for Arthur, all the blood he's ever shed in his name. The long, jagged one on his leg must've been terrible, deep and painful. Arthur runs his finger along it and looks up at Merlin, the question hanging on his tongue. Merlin shakes his head.
"Years ago," he says. "Before I came here. Will pushed me in a river, I cut myself on a sharp rock. Nearly bled to death, Mum was hysterical." In typical Merlin fashion, he's smiling, as if it were some fond memory, not a near-death experience. Arthur just mutters "idiot" and kisses it anyway.
There's bruising too, along the ribs on his left side, the faint mottled yellow of a nearly-healed injury. Arthur frowns at it, tilting his head and staring. He knows that kind of bruising, he's seen it countless times. He crawls up Merlin's body and cuffs him around the head.
"Have you been sparring?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. Merlin looks affronted.
"Of course I have! In case you hadn't noticed, we get into a lot of trouble. I though it would be helpful if I knew how to use a sword."
"It was Gwaine, wasn't it?" Arthur doesn't even have to think about that one. "Gwaine's been teaching you to fight, and bruising you thoroughly in the process."
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Can we not talk about Gwaine right now?"
Arthur sighs and kisses him instead of replying. One day, possibly, Merlin will understand what it does to Arthur when he puts himself in danger, the way it twists up his insides and makes him frantic. Merlin kisses him back, sliding his tongue into Arthur's mouth, hot and deep. His hips start moving, little jerking thrusts against Arthur.
After a minute, Arthur pulls away and slides down Merlin's body. Merlin is completely hard, his cock flushed, and Arthur's mouth waters at the sight. He leans down slowly and licks him from root to tip, glancing up to see Merlin's eyes slip shut. He smiles.
He's not exactly skilled at this; he's done it once or twice, but it's been a while and he's not sure he was ever that good to begin with. From the way Merlin's moaning and rocking into his mouth, though, it's as if he's the best cocksucker in the best whorehouse in Camelot. It's intensely arousing, the noises Merlin's making, the heavy, hot taste and feel of him in Arthur's mouth, and Arthur has to slip his hand into his own breeches.
It doesn't take long, not more than five minutes before Merlin slides his fingers into Arthur's hair and tugs, flooding Arthur's mouth when Arthur refuses to move. He's sputters and chokes a little, ending up with Merlin's come all over his chin, but thankfully Merlin is too busy panting and whispering Arthur's name over and over to notice. He's so close, desperate now, only a minute behind Merlin when he spills over his own fist, forehead pressed into Merlin's stomach, mouthing at the muscle there.
Merlin pulls him up by the shoulders, and they kiss gently, Merlin licking his own come off Arthur's chin. When they finally part, Merlin frowns.
"You're still dressed."
"I was distracted," Arthur says, smiling. Merlin huffs, kisses Arthur again, then curls into his side. It feels amazing, having Merlin tucked against him, miles of still-flushed, naked skin pressed against Arthur. Arthur can't stop moving his hands, sweeping out circles on Merlin's body, as if he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to touch all of this.
"Next time," Merlin mumbles, clearly about to fall asleep. "Next time we should both be naked."
“Oh, absolutely,” Arthur murmurs, and manages to kick off his boots and settle down, arranging Merlin more comfortably around him, kissing the nearest part of Merlin’s face He’ll probably regret this when he wakes up, his breeches still sticky, his arm numb, Merlin drooling on his shoulder.
Re: Skin - M/A - light NC-17? - 2/2
There are scars peppering his body; small ones on his chest and legs, memories of hurts that make Arthur's blood cold, and he wants to kiss them all, to reward Merlin for every cut he's ever taken for Arthur, all the blood he's ever shed in his name. The long, jagged one on his leg must've been terrible, deep and painful. Arthur runs his finger along it and looks up at Merlin, the question hanging on his tongue. Merlin shakes his head.
"Years ago," he says. "Before I came here. Will pushed me in a river, I cut myself on a sharp rock. Nearly bled to death, Mum was hysterical." In typical Merlin fashion, he's smiling, as if it were some fond memory, not a near-death experience. Arthur just mutters "idiot" and kisses it anyway.
There's bruising too, along the ribs on his left side, the faint mottled yellow of a nearly-healed injury. Arthur frowns at it, tilting his head and staring. He knows that kind of bruising, he's seen it countless times. He crawls up Merlin's body and cuffs him around the head.
"Have you been sparring?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. Merlin looks affronted.
"Of course I have! In case you hadn't noticed, we get into a lot of trouble. I though it would be helpful if I knew how to use a sword."
"It was Gwaine, wasn't it?" Arthur doesn't even have to think about that one.
"Gwaine's been teaching you to fight, and bruising you thoroughly in the process."
Merlin rolls his eyes. "Can we not talk about Gwaine right now?"
Arthur sighs and kisses him instead of replying. One day, possibly, Merlin will understand what it does to Arthur when he puts himself in danger, the way it twists up his insides and makes him frantic. Merlin kisses him back, sliding his tongue into Arthur's mouth, hot and deep. His hips start moving, little jerking thrusts against Arthur.
After a minute, Arthur pulls away and slides down Merlin's body. Merlin is completely hard, his cock flushed, and Arthur's mouth waters at the sight. He leans down slowly and licks him from root to tip, glancing up to see Merlin's eyes slip shut. He smiles.
He's not exactly skilled at this; he's done it once or twice, but it's been a while and he's not sure he was ever that good to begin with. From the way Merlin's moaning and rocking into his mouth, though, it's as if he's the best cocksucker in the best whorehouse in Camelot. It's intensely arousing, the noises Merlin's making, the heavy, hot taste and feel of him in Arthur's mouth, and Arthur has to slip his hand into his own breeches.
It doesn't take long, not more than five minutes before Merlin slides his fingers into Arthur's hair and tugs, flooding Arthur's mouth when Arthur refuses to move. He's sputters and chokes a little, ending up with Merlin's come all over his chin, but thankfully Merlin is too busy panting and whispering Arthur's name over and over to notice. He's so close, desperate now, only a minute behind Merlin when he spills over his own fist, forehead pressed into Merlin's stomach, mouthing at the muscle there.
Merlin pulls him up by the shoulders, and they kiss gently, Merlin licking his own come off Arthur's chin. When they finally part, Merlin frowns.
"You're still dressed."
"I was distracted," Arthur says, smiling. Merlin huffs, kisses Arthur again, then curls into his side. It feels amazing, having Merlin tucked against him, miles of still-flushed, naked skin pressed against Arthur. Arthur can't stop moving his hands, sweeping out circles on Merlin's body, as if he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to touch all of this.
"Next time," Merlin mumbles, clearly about to fall asleep. "Next time we should both be naked."
“Oh, absolutely,” Arthur murmurs, and manages to kick off his boots and settle down, arranging Merlin more comfortably around him, kissing the nearest part of Merlin’s face He’ll probably regret this when he wakes up, his breeches still sticky, his arm numb, Merlin drooling on his shoulder.
For now though, it’s perfect.