annundriel (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
annundriel) wrote2009-04-24 07:55 am
annundriel) wrote2009-04-24 07:55 am
Entry tags:
Merlin Fic: Patience (NC-17)
Patience
Arthur/Merlin
NC-17
1383
Arthur wants Merlin to be patient. Merlin wants Arthur to stop teasing.
Thanks go again to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ginnith. Also to sdrohc_ratiug for being there when I couldn't decide what phrasing I liked better. (Like going to the ophthalmologist. "Which is better, one or two? ::turns dial:: One or two?")
I'm thinking of this as a companion to A Glint of Silver, though it's not necessary to read that one first. It's more a connection of theme/inspirational material.
Merlin is laid out on Arthur’s bed, stripped bare by Arthur’s hands, naked and wanting and mildly annoyed.
Arthur leans over him on his hands and knees, straddling Merlin’s thighs, looking smug and infuriating and gorgeous and, damn it, not touching Merlin anywhere.
Since all clothing was removed and Arthur manhandled Merlin onto the bed, there’s barely been any actual skin-on-skin contact. Save for Arthur’s kisses—which focus Merlin’s world down to expertly applied lips, tongue, and teeth—and the occasional maddening brush of Arthur’s hard cock against his own, the only point of contact has been Arthur’s dragon talon pendant where it swings hypnotically on its leather thong between them, tracing random shapes on Merlin’s skin as Arthur hovers above him.
Arthur is clearly bent on driving him mad.
Merlin growls and reaches for him, but Arthur is too fast and before Merlin can blink, Arthur’s hands are on his wrists, pinning him to the bed. He squirms against Arthur, an attempt to free himself and to find some much needed contact.
Arthur just smirks down at him and holds his wrists tighter, tsking beneath his breath. “I thought I told you not to move.”
“When do I ever listen to you?” Merlin answers, frowning. He ceases all escape attempts anyway. At least Arthur is touching him.
“Oh,” Arthur says, leaning close enough to kiss, close enough that Merlin can just feel the movement of Arthur’s lips. His pendant rests on Merlin’s chest. “You’ll listen to me now.”
Which is, of course, when Arthur backs off.
Merlin heaves a frustrated sigh and Arthur responds with a low chuckle. He squeezes Merlin’s wrists once, presses them against the bed. “Now,” he says. “Do. Not. Move.”
Merlin rolls his eyes and obeys, ignoring the way his cock twitches at the order. It’s too much to hope Arthur doesn’t notice, but Arthur gets a knowing look in his eye before releasing Merlin’s wrists and settling back onto his hands and knees, talon swinging between them again.
Arthur studies Merlin for a moment, his face thoughtful. Merlin feels a blush rise under the scrutiny; ridiculous, given what they’ve done and what they’re doing and what they’ll surely do again. Finally, Arthur nods his head absently and leans in close. Merlin closes his eyes, body thrumming with anticipation, and thinks yes, finally and then—
Arthur presses a kiss on his sweaty brow. Pauses. Presses another kiss on Merlin’s temple. Pauses again. Presses a third kiss against the rise of his cheek. Then against his nose, against the fluttering skin of Merlin’s closed eye, the point of his chin.
It’s not what Merlin was expecting at all. He shivers when Arthur’s breath ghosts across his face.
“All right?” Arthur asks, pendant settling warm in the hollow of Merlin’s throat.
Forcing his eyes open, Merlin looks at Arthur and sees all the affection Arthur tries to keep under at least marginal control in public shining unfettered in private. All of that emotion focused on him; it’s humbling and exhilarating, terrifying and glorious. He is Arthur’s and Arthur is his. No matter what else happens in their lives, which will be very long if Merlin has any say in it, that will hold true.
“All right,” he says, voice rough. He swallows. “Or I would be, if you’d get on with it.”
Moment passed, Arthur grins and nips at his jaw before moving to his throat to mouth kisses and Merlin’s name against his skin.
Arthur makes his way down Merlin’s chest, paying equal attention to both nipples, licking and sucking and making Merlin moan and squirm beneath him, hands searching for purchase in the sheets.
And still, the only contact Merlin gets is Arthur’s mouth and that talon, dragging against his skin. When he finally does use his hands, it’s only to keep Merlin’s hips still.
Arthur’s tracing his way—taking his own damn time about it, Merlin thinks—down the trail of hair that leads to Merlin’s aching cock when Merlin finally breaks, his hands reaching for Arthur.
Arthur stops what he’s doing as soon as Merlin moves. There’s a warning in his eyes.
Merlin’s past warnings. “Please, Arthur,” he pants. “Can’t you just—Please—I need—”
Arthur tsks at him again. “Patience, Merlin,” he answers. “You should”—one kiss below his navel—“learn”—the jut of a hip—“patience”—the crease of a thigh.
But he finally, finally takes pity and that’s all Merlin really cares about at this point.
Arthur’s mouth is hot and slick around his cock, his tongue wicked. Merlin calls out when Arthur begins to suck, head moving in time to some rhythm only Arthur knows. A forearm across Merlin’s hips keeps him from thrusting and disrupting Arthur’s movements, freeing his other hand to slip between Merlin’s legs and caress the skin behind his balls.
Merlin groans at the pressure and then Arthur hums around him and he’s coming, hands fisted in the sheets and body bowed tight with pleasure, shouting Arthur’s name and who knows what else.
Merlin feels the bed shift as Arthur reaches for something on the floor. A moment later, Arthur's fingers slip inside him, slick and a little cool. The oil warms quickly though and Merlin's relaxed enough not to care.
Arthur rests his forehead against Merlin's belly as he works his fingers inside, his breath hot and moist as he mouths at Merlin's hip.
Merlin feels his cock twitch, knows he's ready for more, wants more, and marvels at Arthur's patience. He's come once, Arthur's fingers already pulling more pleasure out of him, and he hasn't even touched Arthur.
His fingers itch to touch and when he reaches out this time, smoothes a hand over Arthur’s hair, Arthur only turns and looks up the length of Merlin’s body. He smiles, presses a quick kiss to Merlin's cock, before kneeling between his legs.
Letting his hand fall back to the bed, Merlin takes the opportunity to appreciate the beauty that is Arthur, broad shoulders and muscled chest, narrow hips and jutting cock. He watches Arthur take some oil in his palm, watches the way he closes his eyes and bites his lip when he finally takes his cock in hand.
"Arthur."
Arthur's eyes open and he grins. "Patience, Merlin," he says, but he's moving forward, situating himself between Merlin's thighs, lining up and finally pushing in.
When Arthur's in all the way, he smirks down at Merlin as if to say, "See? Wasn't this worth the wait?" He looks insufferable, pulling out and pushing back in slowly.
It drives Merlin crazy. Arthur drives Merlin crazy.
Arthur’s thrusts stutter when Merlin tightens around him and Merlin does his best to convey, “Yes it’s worth it, but only if you bloody move,” without saying a word. His argument gets through only after he reaches for his own cock; he’s hard again and tired of waiting. Arthur’s expression is transfixed as he watches Merlin’s hand.
Then he’s groaning Merlin’s name and thrusting again, trying to keep steady as Merlin strokes himself, words of encouragement slipping from his lips. It’s a losing battle and before long Arthur’s thrusts are hard and deep, making Merlin’s toes curl and his heart pound.
Arthur keeps this up for one, two, three thrusts before he shouts Merlin’s name and comes, Merlin following after. There will be bruises the shape of Arthur’s hands on Merlin’s hips in the morning.
Merlin groans as the world resettles itself around them. "You'll be the death of me."
"But what a way to go," Arthur says, somehow finding the energy to stay on his knees and leer down at him.
"Prat."
"Admit it." Arthur pinches a nipple. "You love it."
Merlin looks at Arthur, fringe sweaty and hanging in his face, expression happy and open and tired.
He reaches for Arthur, wrapping a hand around his pendant and tugging him forward until Arthur overbalances and slips free and they're face to face, Arthur's hands beside his shoulders. Merlin kisses him for all he's worth, chasing the taste of himself into the corners of Arthur's mouth, hand wrapped tight around the necklace like a lifeline. They’re both breathing heavy when the kiss ends.
"I might a bit, yeah," Merlin admits, talon warm in his palm.
Arthur's smile lights up the room.
Arthur/Merlin
NC-17
1383
Arthur wants Merlin to be patient. Merlin wants Arthur to stop teasing.
Thanks go again to
ginnith. Also to sdrohc_ratiug for being there when I couldn't decide what phrasing I liked better. (Like going to the ophthalmologist. "Which is better, one or two? ::turns dial:: One or two?")I'm thinking of this as a companion to A Glint of Silver, though it's not necessary to read that one first. It's more a connection of theme/inspirational material.
Merlin is laid out on Arthur’s bed, stripped bare by Arthur’s hands, naked and wanting and mildly annoyed.
Arthur leans over him on his hands and knees, straddling Merlin’s thighs, looking smug and infuriating and gorgeous and, damn it, not touching Merlin anywhere.
Since all clothing was removed and Arthur manhandled Merlin onto the bed, there’s barely been any actual skin-on-skin contact. Save for Arthur’s kisses—which focus Merlin’s world down to expertly applied lips, tongue, and teeth—and the occasional maddening brush of Arthur’s hard cock against his own, the only point of contact has been Arthur’s dragon talon pendant where it swings hypnotically on its leather thong between them, tracing random shapes on Merlin’s skin as Arthur hovers above him.
Arthur is clearly bent on driving him mad.
Merlin growls and reaches for him, but Arthur is too fast and before Merlin can blink, Arthur’s hands are on his wrists, pinning him to the bed. He squirms against Arthur, an attempt to free himself and to find some much needed contact.
Arthur just smirks down at him and holds his wrists tighter, tsking beneath his breath. “I thought I told you not to move.”
“When do I ever listen to you?” Merlin answers, frowning. He ceases all escape attempts anyway. At least Arthur is touching him.
“Oh,” Arthur says, leaning close enough to kiss, close enough that Merlin can just feel the movement of Arthur’s lips. His pendant rests on Merlin’s chest. “You’ll listen to me now.”
Which is, of course, when Arthur backs off.
Merlin heaves a frustrated sigh and Arthur responds with a low chuckle. He squeezes Merlin’s wrists once, presses them against the bed. “Now,” he says. “Do. Not. Move.”
Merlin rolls his eyes and obeys, ignoring the way his cock twitches at the order. It’s too much to hope Arthur doesn’t notice, but Arthur gets a knowing look in his eye before releasing Merlin’s wrists and settling back onto his hands and knees, talon swinging between them again.
Arthur studies Merlin for a moment, his face thoughtful. Merlin feels a blush rise under the scrutiny; ridiculous, given what they’ve done and what they’re doing and what they’ll surely do again. Finally, Arthur nods his head absently and leans in close. Merlin closes his eyes, body thrumming with anticipation, and thinks yes, finally and then—
Arthur presses a kiss on his sweaty brow. Pauses. Presses another kiss on Merlin’s temple. Pauses again. Presses a third kiss against the rise of his cheek. Then against his nose, against the fluttering skin of Merlin’s closed eye, the point of his chin.
It’s not what Merlin was expecting at all. He shivers when Arthur’s breath ghosts across his face.
“All right?” Arthur asks, pendant settling warm in the hollow of Merlin’s throat.
Forcing his eyes open, Merlin looks at Arthur and sees all the affection Arthur tries to keep under at least marginal control in public shining unfettered in private. All of that emotion focused on him; it’s humbling and exhilarating, terrifying and glorious. He is Arthur’s and Arthur is his. No matter what else happens in their lives, which will be very long if Merlin has any say in it, that will hold true.
“All right,” he says, voice rough. He swallows. “Or I would be, if you’d get on with it.”
Moment passed, Arthur grins and nips at his jaw before moving to his throat to mouth kisses and Merlin’s name against his skin.
Arthur makes his way down Merlin’s chest, paying equal attention to both nipples, licking and sucking and making Merlin moan and squirm beneath him, hands searching for purchase in the sheets.
And still, the only contact Merlin gets is Arthur’s mouth and that talon, dragging against his skin. When he finally does use his hands, it’s only to keep Merlin’s hips still.
Arthur’s tracing his way—taking his own damn time about it, Merlin thinks—down the trail of hair that leads to Merlin’s aching cock when Merlin finally breaks, his hands reaching for Arthur.
Arthur stops what he’s doing as soon as Merlin moves. There’s a warning in his eyes.
Merlin’s past warnings. “Please, Arthur,” he pants. “Can’t you just—Please—I need—”
Arthur tsks at him again. “Patience, Merlin,” he answers. “You should”—one kiss below his navel—“learn”—the jut of a hip—“patience”—the crease of a thigh.
But he finally, finally takes pity and that’s all Merlin really cares about at this point.
Arthur’s mouth is hot and slick around his cock, his tongue wicked. Merlin calls out when Arthur begins to suck, head moving in time to some rhythm only Arthur knows. A forearm across Merlin’s hips keeps him from thrusting and disrupting Arthur’s movements, freeing his other hand to slip between Merlin’s legs and caress the skin behind his balls.
Merlin groans at the pressure and then Arthur hums around him and he’s coming, hands fisted in the sheets and body bowed tight with pleasure, shouting Arthur’s name and who knows what else.
Merlin feels the bed shift as Arthur reaches for something on the floor. A moment later, Arthur's fingers slip inside him, slick and a little cool. The oil warms quickly though and Merlin's relaxed enough not to care.
Arthur rests his forehead against Merlin's belly as he works his fingers inside, his breath hot and moist as he mouths at Merlin's hip.
Merlin feels his cock twitch, knows he's ready for more, wants more, and marvels at Arthur's patience. He's come once, Arthur's fingers already pulling more pleasure out of him, and he hasn't even touched Arthur.
His fingers itch to touch and when he reaches out this time, smoothes a hand over Arthur’s hair, Arthur only turns and looks up the length of Merlin’s body. He smiles, presses a quick kiss to Merlin's cock, before kneeling between his legs.
Letting his hand fall back to the bed, Merlin takes the opportunity to appreciate the beauty that is Arthur, broad shoulders and muscled chest, narrow hips and jutting cock. He watches Arthur take some oil in his palm, watches the way he closes his eyes and bites his lip when he finally takes his cock in hand.
"Arthur."
Arthur's eyes open and he grins. "Patience, Merlin," he says, but he's moving forward, situating himself between Merlin's thighs, lining up and finally pushing in.
When Arthur's in all the way, he smirks down at Merlin as if to say, "See? Wasn't this worth the wait?" He looks insufferable, pulling out and pushing back in slowly.
It drives Merlin crazy. Arthur drives Merlin crazy.
Arthur’s thrusts stutter when Merlin tightens around him and Merlin does his best to convey, “Yes it’s worth it, but only if you bloody move,” without saying a word. His argument gets through only after he reaches for his own cock; he’s hard again and tired of waiting. Arthur’s expression is transfixed as he watches Merlin’s hand.
Then he’s groaning Merlin’s name and thrusting again, trying to keep steady as Merlin strokes himself, words of encouragement slipping from his lips. It’s a losing battle and before long Arthur’s thrusts are hard and deep, making Merlin’s toes curl and his heart pound.
Arthur keeps this up for one, two, three thrusts before he shouts Merlin’s name and comes, Merlin following after. There will be bruises the shape of Arthur’s hands on Merlin’s hips in the morning.
Merlin groans as the world resettles itself around them. "You'll be the death of me."
"But what a way to go," Arthur says, somehow finding the energy to stay on his knees and leer down at him.
"Prat."
"Admit it." Arthur pinches a nipple. "You love it."
Merlin looks at Arthur, fringe sweaty and hanging in his face, expression happy and open and tired.
He reaches for Arthur, wrapping a hand around his pendant and tugging him forward until Arthur overbalances and slips free and they're face to face, Arthur's hands beside his shoulders. Merlin kisses him for all he's worth, chasing the taste of himself into the corners of Arthur's mouth, hand wrapped tight around the necklace like a lifeline. They’re both breathing heavy when the kiss ends.
"I might a bit, yeah," Merlin admits, talon warm in his palm.
Arthur's smile lights up the room.