in which there is porn
Oct. 3rd, 2010 11:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesGOD GUYS. THE FRESHER'S FLU IS BEYOND A JOKE NOW :((( Tomorrow I have to go on a three hour round trip just to attend a half hour meeting. Nothing like public transport when you want to DIE *cries*
So I feel, as we would say in this neck of the woods, rough as arseholes (yes, I am a very classy bird). As such I feel no shame in admitting that I've spent the whole day watching Indiana Jones, reading Terry Pratchett, sleeping, and writing porn. Yes. It's what Sundays were made for.
I don't know what it is about this ep that has made me too impatient to wait for anyone else to write fic. Lookit, I even used the alternate spelling of Gawainwhich I HATE.
SO, here is fic or something (I don't think it's really worthy of 'fic', and should be considered a collab between me and my cold medication).
Arthur/Merlin/Gwaine, NC17, ~650 words
Maybe, Merlin thinks a bit wildly, just maybe, this wasn't such a brilliant idea. Arthur and Gwaine like each other well enough, but Arthur doesn't do well with sharing, and Gwaine doesn't do well with arrogant nobles staking their claims to all and sundry. In the melee, they fought well together, their movements unintentionally synchronised, as though their bodies were made to work together, to complement one another.
It's a different story now, though. Arthur has three fingers oiled and pushed inside Merlin, and every time Merlin can't suppress a groan at the way Gwaine's filling his mouth, Arthur will twist his fingers, or crook them, or bite at the soft skin of Merlin's thigh. Anything he can think of, in short, to ensure that Merlin's attention shifts back to him. So competitive, Merlin thinks absently, even in this. Perhaps especially in this.
And of course Gwaine has a highly developed sense of mischief and he plays the game very well. So when Arthur's thumb traces the stretched rim of Merlin's hole, and Merlin gasps helplessly, pressing his forehead to Gwaine's hip, it's only a second before Gwaine's hand is in his hair, stroking gently, lifting his head to trace the wet tip of his cock over Merlin's lips. For all that it's filthy, obscene, it feels like an affectionate gesture, just another example of Gwaine's lazy charm. Merlin glances up and meets his eyes, a wicked spark in their depths, and he slowly, deliberately, licks his lips.
Gwaine curses quietly, lets out a breathless laugh and taps his cock once, twice, against Merlin's cheek before feeding it back into his mouth, slow, but deep enough so Merlin has to work to take it, so he can feel a stretch in his jaw to rival the one in his arse where Arthur is pressing deeper. Arthur twists his hand from the wrist and Merlin coughs and pulls back quickly. He turns his head to glare over his shoulder at Arthur, who looks utterly unrepentant. He's frowning and looks far more serious than anyone should during sex, so Merlin softens his expression and tries to say, I love you, idiot, with his eyes.
Gwaine's hand cups Merlin's jaw, gently turns him forward again, and he's only vaguely aware that Gwaine's eyes flick to Arthur over his shoulder. A second of wordless communication and then Gwaine's thumb is tracing over Merlin's swollen lips, Arthur's hand low on the small of his back as he uses his other hand to guide himself into Merlin's body. Merlin's jaw drops helplessly and he nips at the ball of Gwaine's thumb, presses back against Arthur. He doesn't know what to do, how to move, who to please first.
When Arthur seats himself fully inside, he covers Merlin's back with his body, pressing kisses and bites to his shoulders, the back of his neck. He mutters something that might be mine, probably is if Gwaine's smirk is anything to go by. Merlin would laugh if he wasn't so overwhelmed, because it gets what's undoubtedly the reaction Gwaine was hoping for. Arthur moves his hips, one smooth thrust after another, forcing breathless little cries from Merlin every time he drives in, the angle perfect. Gwaine takes himself in hand, strokes twice, close enough that Merlin can almost taste it. He curls his tongue out, licks at the moisture coating the tip and notices for the first time that he tastes different from Arthur, saltier, the flavour heavier on his tongue.
Merlin curls one hand around Gwaine's hip, trying to tug him up from his lazy sprawl on the bed. Gwaine gets the hint and pushes himself up to kneel before Merlin, mirroring Arthur's position. As he starts feeding his cock back into Merlin's mouth, Merlin hears a mutter from Gwaine about learning to share, and no, okay, definitely a good idea.
So I feel, as we would say in this neck of the woods, rough as arseholes (yes, I am a very classy bird). As such I feel no shame in admitting that I've spent the whole day watching Indiana Jones, reading Terry Pratchett, sleeping, and writing porn. Yes. It's what Sundays were made for.
I don't know what it is about this ep that has made me too impatient to wait for anyone else to write fic. Lookit, I even used the alternate spelling of Gawain
SO, here is fic or something (I don't think it's really worthy of 'fic', and should be considered a collab between me and my cold medication).
Arthur/Merlin/Gwaine, NC17, ~650 words
Maybe, Merlin thinks a bit wildly, just maybe, this wasn't such a brilliant idea. Arthur and Gwaine like each other well enough, but Arthur doesn't do well with sharing, and Gwaine doesn't do well with arrogant nobles staking their claims to all and sundry. In the melee, they fought well together, their movements unintentionally synchronised, as though their bodies were made to work together, to complement one another.
It's a different story now, though. Arthur has three fingers oiled and pushed inside Merlin, and every time Merlin can't suppress a groan at the way Gwaine's filling his mouth, Arthur will twist his fingers, or crook them, or bite at the soft skin of Merlin's thigh. Anything he can think of, in short, to ensure that Merlin's attention shifts back to him. So competitive, Merlin thinks absently, even in this. Perhaps especially in this.
And of course Gwaine has a highly developed sense of mischief and he plays the game very well. So when Arthur's thumb traces the stretched rim of Merlin's hole, and Merlin gasps helplessly, pressing his forehead to Gwaine's hip, it's only a second before Gwaine's hand is in his hair, stroking gently, lifting his head to trace the wet tip of his cock over Merlin's lips. For all that it's filthy, obscene, it feels like an affectionate gesture, just another example of Gwaine's lazy charm. Merlin glances up and meets his eyes, a wicked spark in their depths, and he slowly, deliberately, licks his lips.
Gwaine curses quietly, lets out a breathless laugh and taps his cock once, twice, against Merlin's cheek before feeding it back into his mouth, slow, but deep enough so Merlin has to work to take it, so he can feel a stretch in his jaw to rival the one in his arse where Arthur is pressing deeper. Arthur twists his hand from the wrist and Merlin coughs and pulls back quickly. He turns his head to glare over his shoulder at Arthur, who looks utterly unrepentant. He's frowning and looks far more serious than anyone should during sex, so Merlin softens his expression and tries to say, I love you, idiot, with his eyes.
Gwaine's hand cups Merlin's jaw, gently turns him forward again, and he's only vaguely aware that Gwaine's eyes flick to Arthur over his shoulder. A second of wordless communication and then Gwaine's thumb is tracing over Merlin's swollen lips, Arthur's hand low on the small of his back as he uses his other hand to guide himself into Merlin's body. Merlin's jaw drops helplessly and he nips at the ball of Gwaine's thumb, presses back against Arthur. He doesn't know what to do, how to move, who to please first.
When Arthur seats himself fully inside, he covers Merlin's back with his body, pressing kisses and bites to his shoulders, the back of his neck. He mutters something that might be mine, probably is if Gwaine's smirk is anything to go by. Merlin would laugh if he wasn't so overwhelmed, because it gets what's undoubtedly the reaction Gwaine was hoping for. Arthur moves his hips, one smooth thrust after another, forcing breathless little cries from Merlin every time he drives in, the angle perfect. Gwaine takes himself in hand, strokes twice, close enough that Merlin can almost taste it. He curls his tongue out, licks at the moisture coating the tip and notices for the first time that he tastes different from Arthur, saltier, the flavour heavier on his tongue.
Merlin curls one hand around Gwaine's hip, trying to tug him up from his lazy sprawl on the bed. Gwaine gets the hint and pushes himself up to kneel before Merlin, mirroring Arthur's position. As he starts feeding his cock back into Merlin's mouth, Merlin hears a mutter from Gwaine about learning to share, and no, okay, definitely a good idea.
