leashy_bebes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
leashy_bebes) wrote2010-10-12 11:59 pm
leashy_bebes) wrote2010-10-12 11:59 pm
Entry tags:
fic: Learning Experiences (1/1)
Title: Learning Experiences (1/1)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur and Merlin put their free period to use in a manner the school board probably did not intend.
Notes: Although never explicitly stated, the boys are in the upper sixth, putting them at 17/18.
This is a slightly belated birthday present for the always lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
marguerite_26 who, as well as writing amazing fic and compiling fantastic and always reliable rec lists, it just a generally lovely person. Honey, I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that you make my experience of fandom so much better. Happy birthday, you laaahvely thing, you!
Word Count: ~3000
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
Merlin Emrys is a geek, and he's a bit of a weirdo to boot. He spends most of his free time reading sci-fi books in a corner of the library, barely ever setting foot in the sixth form common room. He wears his tie in the prescribed skinny knot, unlike the wide, self-consciously cool way Arthur and his friends favour, and his blazer is obviously old, but far more attentively pressed than Arthur's. He hardly ever does sports because of asthma or webbed feet or some fucking thing. When they were younger, instead of woodwork or metalwork with the blokes, he did textiles (or sewing as it's more accurately called) with the girls. His favourite subject is fucking Latin. He trips over his own feet, volunteers to tutor the first years and is just generally painfully, painfully uncool.
And yet. And yet.
He's funny, and has a quiet, wicked sort of intelligence that means he sometimes looks at people from eyes gone narrow and amused, as if there's some private joke no one else gets. He stands up to people, even people like Arthur who are about twice his size. When Merlin cares about someone, he cares about them just as fiercely as Arthur does. He's got legs that go on forever, and who cares if they're uncoordinated, they're slim and lithe and Arthur finds himself watching, especially in science classes, the way Merlin will hook one foot around the leg of his stool, the other swinging idly. And there's always been something off about him, like maybe he has a secret. Arthur likes secrets.
And of course, since this...thing...well, now Arthur knows Merlin's got a wicked streak a mile wide, the kind that makes him able to catch Arthur's eye across a crowded class room or corridor, and give him a look that's nothing short of obscene (Arthur's pulse starts racing in an instant, his throat goes dry and of course, the next second, Merlin looks all wide-eyed and angelic), or to send him filthy text messages during assembly, or press Arthur against the door of his car for a hot, hungry kiss even though it's still light and they're parked up just around the corner from Arthur's house. All while maintaining this faintly distracted air of amiability.
Arthur thinks his mates would have more of a problem with Merlin than with the idea of blokes in general. He's just so...he's not one of them. Not part of the crowd. Doesn't even want to be. But Arthur can't help coming back for more, every time, all the time. So in his free period on Wednesday afternoon, Arthur tracks Merlin down to his usual corner of the library and finds him with his nose in a book and his feet propped on the chair opposite him. Arthur grabs the chair and tips it back, making Merlin's feet fall to the floor. He flails amusingly for a moment, then glares up at Arthur.
"What are you doing?" he whispers, because God forbid Merlin would shout in the library even if he wants to. Arthur thinks that might be more out of fear of Monmouth the librarian than any great respect for the 'SILENCE' signs strewn around the place.
"Hi," is all Arthur says, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table. He lets his hand fall on top of Merlin's and it could be an accident. It's not though, and from the way Merlin's lips curl into a smile, he knows it.
"I'm busy," Merlin says and Arthur sighs, lifting his hand to ruffle Merlin's hair, ignoring the way Merlin ducks and bats at his hand.
"The hobbits can wait for half an hour, surely?"
Merlin's lips thin and he looks down at his book. "It's not about hobbits."
Arthur lets his hand slide down to Merlin's neck, thumb briefly tracing the arc of his cheekbone.
"Arthur," Merlin mutters, like he always does, like Arthur is slightly infuriating, something Merlin puts up with out of the goodness of his heart.
"Come on," Arthur cajoles. "S'what free periods were made for."
"It's really not," Merlin argues, but he reaches for Arthur anyway, his palm flat against Arthur's ribs, warm through the cotton of his shirt. After a brief second, Merlin sighs and closes his book and says, "Come on, then. Let's get out of here."
Arthur gives him a look and says, "Really? Isn't making out in the library every geek's wet dream?"
Merlin jabs his finger into Arthur's thigh. "Not going to provide you with an excuse to leave me high and dry again."
Arthur laughs, trying to disguise the fact that he's suddenly breathless, and hops down from the table. It takes all the patience he has not to grab Merlin's elbow and steer him out of the library. Arthur realises he has no idea where they're going until Merlin ducks into the loos, shooting a coy look over his shoulder at Arthur.
Merlin's already in a stall, leaning casually against the wall by the time Arthur has thoroughly checked there's no one else there, and he cocks an eyebrow in amusement at Arthur's paranoia. As soon as the cubicle door is shut and locked behind Arthur, Merlin's kissing him, slender fingers curling into Arthur's hair, the kiss lewd and wet straight away, and God, fuck, it's so easy to crowd Merlin up against the wall, pin him there with just his hips and kiss him senseless.
Arthur's never been much into kissing before, seems like a bit of a waste of energy when there's so many more interesting things to be doing, but God, he could kiss Merlin for hours, until his full, pink lips are puffy and stained dark with bites. But Merlin's hands are already tugging Arthur's shirt out of his belt, fingers pressing against warm skin. He might want to spend forever on that lush mouth, but Merlin's hands are always distracting, and anyway Arthur's got to be in Business Studies in half an hour. Arthur works his knee between Merlin's thighs, lifts until he's pressed right against Merlin's hardening cock, and Merlin is on his tiptoes, head falling back against the wall.
Merlin lifts one hand to tangle in Arthur's hair, tugging him in for another kiss before short nails rake down the nape of his neck. Arthur hisses a complaint, but it's no good, Merlin knows he loves that. He does it again and Arthur shifts, mouthing along his jaw to catch Merlin's earlobe in his teeth.
"Oh, you bastard," Merlin hisses. Arthur smirks and kisses Merlin once more, one hand going down to curl around his hip, pressing his thumb hard to the bone and relishing in the little cry he gets in response before Merlin bites his lips and scrunches his eyes closed. Merlin lurches forward and Arthur trips over his own feet. They collide with the opposite wall of the cubicle with a thud and it's Arthur's turn to choke back a groan when Merlin's palm presses flat against the front of his trousers. His hand feels hot and solid and Arthur rocks into it a couple of times before he catches himself.
"Oh, fuck, no," he says. "You are not making me come in my fucking trousers again. Do you have any idea how gross that felt?"
"What, when you were begging me for more?" Merlin asks critically. "No, I guess your protests slipped my mind."
"Git."
"Anyway," Merlin continues in an absurdly reasonable tone. "S'not my fault you go off like a rocket."
"Yes it is," Arthur says, and he thinks he surprises them both with how tender the words are when they emerge.
Merlin casts his eyes down coyly for a second before he looks back up, a pleased smile on his face, and he presses a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth, fingers working clumsily at Arthur's belt. Their hands tangle when Arthur reaches for Merlin's own trousers, popping them open easily and sliding his hand inside. Merlin groans, low and heated, his face close enough that his hair brushes Arthur's temple. Arthur can't help shifting, just a little, so that their cheeks are pressed together, so that he can feel the satisfied rush of breath when Merlin gets a hand into his trousers, inside his briefs.
"I – " Arthur says, and then the main door opens and he bites his lip, instinctively pressing a hand to Merlin's mouth. Merlin – little shit – just parts his lips and presses his tongue to Arthur's fingertips.
Arthur wants to protest, but he can't exactly do that, not when there's someone only a few metres away. Merlin's slender fingers wrap around Arthur's wrist and pull his hand down, pressing a soft, careful kiss to his lips. Arthur's heart races with every gentle touch of Merlin's tongue because what if they're overheard? Finally, finally, there's the sound of taps running and the door slams shut again. Arthur almost trembles with relief.
"I want – " he says, then cuts himself off and presses his face to the warm, secret skin of Merlin's throat.
"What?" Merlin asks, and Arthur shakes his head. "Tell me," Merlin says insistently, and he curls his fingers into Arthur's hair again, tugging sharply.
"I – " Fuck no, Arthur can't say it, but he can move back far enough to get to his knees in front of Merlin, and he can watch Merlin's eyes go wide and dark. Suddenly it doesn't seem so bad that Arthur loves this as much as he does. God knows Merlin loves the fact that he loves it, makes no secret of the fact that Arthur on his knees sends his brain into a tailspin.
"Oh," Merlin says, and he strokes a hand through Arthur's hair. "Oh. Yeah, we can do that."
Arthur shoves at Merlin's clothes, shirt up a bit, trousers and pants down just enough to tilt his head to one side and mouth his way up the side of Merlin's dick, up to the head which is already wet, salty and bitter on his tongue.
"Arthur, oh my God," Merlin whispers, just like every time, like he can't quite believe it.
Arthur knows he can't claim to be an expert, because there weren't any boys before Merlin, and the sneaking around doesn't lend itself to much beyond fumbling handjobs or breathless grinding, but Merlin certainly doesn't have any complaints. Arthur takes the head into his mouth and Merlin makes a noise like the air's been punched out of him, one hand caressing Arthur's cheek. He's always touching Arthur's face when they do this, his cheeks and his fluttering eyelids, and then later, always the wet stretch of his lips.
Arthur takes him deeper and he thinks, not for the first time, that one of these days he will get Merlin back to his house, into his bed where they can do this for ages, until Arthur's jaw is aching from it, until Merlin is completely insensible from the pleasure of it. Arthur finds a rhythm and a comfortable depth and starts bobbing his head, the movements slicker each time, the hand he has wrapped around the base of Merlin's cock getting wet. Merlin makes a high, trembling, whining sort of noise and Arthur pulls back to look up at him and shush him. It catches in his throat though, because Merlin has his lip clamped so tight between his teeth that it's bloodless, and his free hand is scrabbling uselessly at the wall behind him. Dizzy with lust at the sight, Arthur moves to start sucking him again, but Merlin's fingers curl around his jaw and he says,
"Wait, wait. Can I – I want – "
"What?" Arthur whispers. Merlin shudders, his whole body, and he swipes his thumb over Arthur's lower lip.
The blood is hot in Arthur's face, his pulse roaring as Merlin's thumb gently increases its pressure, coaxing Arthur's mouth open again. Oh God, oh God. It would be easier if Merlin was rough and demanding. This soft pressure, the wordless supplication, they leave Arthur with a way to back out, and he doesn't want to, not really, but he probably will if the crackling tension carries on itching at his skin, making him feel feverish and shaky. Before he can wimp out, before Merlin can say anything, Arthur screws his eyes shut and nods, swiping his tongue over his lower lip and then just waiting.
He doesn't have to wait long before the stiff length pushes into his mouth again. Merlin's careful, keeps it shallow but his breath hitches with every thrust and God, Arthur's head is swimming with it. Normally, he's careful to keep Merlin still, hands hard on his hips, control, control, control. This, though... He can't do much more than tangle his fingers in the bunched fabric of Merlin's trousers, try to pretend those desperate whimpers aren't him.
"Oh, fuck," Merlin whispers, his fingers brushing the hair at Arthur's temple. "God, that's amazing. You have to try this, fuck – "
Arthur makes a strangled gasping noise at the very idea and Merlin pulls back, concern almost overshadowing the naked need in his eyes.
"You okay?"
Arthur nods and resists the urge to wipe a hand across his mouth. His lips are wet, but that can only smooth the way, only make it easier. Merlin touches his hair, and in the same incongruously gentle tone as earlier says, "God, Arthur, your mouth – you're so lovely."
If they weren't already flushed, Arthur's cheeks would surely burn at that. Arthur doesn't have chance to be embarrassed before Merlin is in his mouth again, slow shallow thrusts.
"I want," Merlin says in a plaintive little voice. "A bit more, just a bit, just – "
Holding still and letting Merlin use his mouth has such a strong, strange appeal to it that it takes Arthur a moment to figure out how to move again, pressing forward as Merlin thrusts in, forcing him that bit deeper and it's – oh fuck, it's awkward and it aches and once or twice it makes his eyes water, but it's fucking glorious for all that. They're being far too noisy but Arthur's past caring, lost in the taste, in the solid thickness of the cock filling his mouth, in the noises Merlin's making, in his fingers, curved sweet and gentle around Arthur's jaw.
Of course it can't last forever and Merlin makes these choked uh, uh noises, pushes too deep too fast, once, twice, again, and Arthur's already pulling back when his mouth is flooded, hot and bitter, one errant stripe arcing across his lips. Arthur leans over, spits his mouthful into the toilet bowl and says, "Gahh."
Merlin gives an undignified snort of laughter like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Then he's plucking weakly at Arthur's shirt, trying to pull him to his feet. Arthur complies a bit unsteadily – tiled floors are less than friendly to knees – and all but collapses against Merlin who pushes at him ineffectually and says, "Move, move, let me – "
For all this bold words about not coming in his pants, Arthur just rocks into the sharp, too much, not enough pressure of Merlin's hip.
"Come on, shh now, shh," Merlin's muttering, and Arthur realises only then that his breath is ragged, that it sounds almost like sobbing, that he's fucking frantic.
One long fingered hand on his chest grounds him a little, and the other ducks into his pants again. The first touch is so gentle he barely feels it, and he doesn't recognise the wrecked voice that hisses, "Please, Merlin, please."
Merlin gets a decent grip then, and Arthur clamps down on every muscle in his body because damn it, he is past the stage of coming from a single touch. (No, really, he is.) Merlin's stroking smoothly now, and Arthur realises his cock must have been positively leaking precome because the movements are so wet, so easy. Then Merlin nudges Arthur's head up and with a deliberate, calculating look in his eyes, licks at Arthur's lips. No, at his own come, Arthur realises with a jolt.
"Fucking – Jesus," Arthur grits out, pressing the words to Merlin's lips and clutching at him, driving his cock through the tight circle of Merlin's fist. Merlin slams a kiss onto his mouth just in time to muffle his shout and cups his hand so that when Arthur comes, hips twitching, breath stuttering, he's prevented from making a mess all over their uniforms.
He hears the rattle as Merlin scrabbles for tissue, the flush of the toilet, but Arthur doesn't even make an effort to move, just drinking in the closeness, the boneless satiety, the easiness of being with Merlin like this. The silence lasts for a long, peaceful moment before a soft hand cups his cheek and Merlin whispers,
"Hey. Okay?"
Arthur nods and, unable to help himself, turns his head and presses a kiss to Merlin's palm. Merlin smiles at him, soft, fond, like he's worked out a secret.
"Here," Merlin says, grabbing another handful of tissue and dabbing at Arthur's mouth. Arthur laughs and takes the tissue from his hand, wiping his mouth and watching from the corner of his eye as Merlin makes an effort to straighten his clothes. Arthur does the same and they duck out of the stall. He watches surreptitiously in the mirrors as they wash their hands, and he can't help noticing the little smile still playing over Merlin's lips.
"I'll pick you up from the bus stop, yeah?" Arthur asks. Merlin nods and smiles wider, pursing his lips in a kiss before he ducks out into the corridor. Arthur watches him go and just waits for a moment, wondering how the hell he's meant to look attentive for the next forty five minutes.
sequel-ish kind of thing here
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Arthur and Merlin put their free period to use in a manner the school board probably did not intend.
Notes: Although never explicitly stated, the boys are in the upper sixth, putting them at 17/18.
This is a slightly belated birthday present for the always lovely
marguerite_26 who, as well as writing amazing fic and compiling fantastic and always reliable rec lists, it just a generally lovely person. Honey, I'm sure I'm not alone in saying that you make my experience of fandom so much better. Happy birthday, you laaahvely thing, you!Word Count: ~3000
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing.
Merlin Emrys is a geek, and he's a bit of a weirdo to boot. He spends most of his free time reading sci-fi books in a corner of the library, barely ever setting foot in the sixth form common room. He wears his tie in the prescribed skinny knot, unlike the wide, self-consciously cool way Arthur and his friends favour, and his blazer is obviously old, but far more attentively pressed than Arthur's. He hardly ever does sports because of asthma or webbed feet or some fucking thing. When they were younger, instead of woodwork or metalwork with the blokes, he did textiles (or sewing as it's more accurately called) with the girls. His favourite subject is fucking Latin. He trips over his own feet, volunteers to tutor the first years and is just generally painfully, painfully uncool.
And yet. And yet.
He's funny, and has a quiet, wicked sort of intelligence that means he sometimes looks at people from eyes gone narrow and amused, as if there's some private joke no one else gets. He stands up to people, even people like Arthur who are about twice his size. When Merlin cares about someone, he cares about them just as fiercely as Arthur does. He's got legs that go on forever, and who cares if they're uncoordinated, they're slim and lithe and Arthur finds himself watching, especially in science classes, the way Merlin will hook one foot around the leg of his stool, the other swinging idly. And there's always been something off about him, like maybe he has a secret. Arthur likes secrets.
And of course, since this...thing...well, now Arthur knows Merlin's got a wicked streak a mile wide, the kind that makes him able to catch Arthur's eye across a crowded class room or corridor, and give him a look that's nothing short of obscene (Arthur's pulse starts racing in an instant, his throat goes dry and of course, the next second, Merlin looks all wide-eyed and angelic), or to send him filthy text messages during assembly, or press Arthur against the door of his car for a hot, hungry kiss even though it's still light and they're parked up just around the corner from Arthur's house. All while maintaining this faintly distracted air of amiability.
Arthur thinks his mates would have more of a problem with Merlin than with the idea of blokes in general. He's just so...he's not one of them. Not part of the crowd. Doesn't even want to be. But Arthur can't help coming back for more, every time, all the time. So in his free period on Wednesday afternoon, Arthur tracks Merlin down to his usual corner of the library and finds him with his nose in a book and his feet propped on the chair opposite him. Arthur grabs the chair and tips it back, making Merlin's feet fall to the floor. He flails amusingly for a moment, then glares up at Arthur.
"What are you doing?" he whispers, because God forbid Merlin would shout in the library even if he wants to. Arthur thinks that might be more out of fear of Monmouth the librarian than any great respect for the 'SILENCE' signs strewn around the place.
"Hi," is all Arthur says, hopping up to sit on the edge of the table. He lets his hand fall on top of Merlin's and it could be an accident. It's not though, and from the way Merlin's lips curl into a smile, he knows it.
"I'm busy," Merlin says and Arthur sighs, lifting his hand to ruffle Merlin's hair, ignoring the way Merlin ducks and bats at his hand.
"The hobbits can wait for half an hour, surely?"
Merlin's lips thin and he looks down at his book. "It's not about hobbits."
Arthur lets his hand slide down to Merlin's neck, thumb briefly tracing the arc of his cheekbone.
"Arthur," Merlin mutters, like he always does, like Arthur is slightly infuriating, something Merlin puts up with out of the goodness of his heart.
"Come on," Arthur cajoles. "S'what free periods were made for."
"It's really not," Merlin argues, but he reaches for Arthur anyway, his palm flat against Arthur's ribs, warm through the cotton of his shirt. After a brief second, Merlin sighs and closes his book and says, "Come on, then. Let's get out of here."
Arthur gives him a look and says, "Really? Isn't making out in the library every geek's wet dream?"
Merlin jabs his finger into Arthur's thigh. "Not going to provide you with an excuse to leave me high and dry again."
Arthur laughs, trying to disguise the fact that he's suddenly breathless, and hops down from the table. It takes all the patience he has not to grab Merlin's elbow and steer him out of the library. Arthur realises he has no idea where they're going until Merlin ducks into the loos, shooting a coy look over his shoulder at Arthur.
Merlin's already in a stall, leaning casually against the wall by the time Arthur has thoroughly checked there's no one else there, and he cocks an eyebrow in amusement at Arthur's paranoia. As soon as the cubicle door is shut and locked behind Arthur, Merlin's kissing him, slender fingers curling into Arthur's hair, the kiss lewd and wet straight away, and God, fuck, it's so easy to crowd Merlin up against the wall, pin him there with just his hips and kiss him senseless.
Arthur's never been much into kissing before, seems like a bit of a waste of energy when there's so many more interesting things to be doing, but God, he could kiss Merlin for hours, until his full, pink lips are puffy and stained dark with bites. But Merlin's hands are already tugging Arthur's shirt out of his belt, fingers pressing against warm skin. He might want to spend forever on that lush mouth, but Merlin's hands are always distracting, and anyway Arthur's got to be in Business Studies in half an hour. Arthur works his knee between Merlin's thighs, lifts until he's pressed right against Merlin's hardening cock, and Merlin is on his tiptoes, head falling back against the wall.
Merlin lifts one hand to tangle in Arthur's hair, tugging him in for another kiss before short nails rake down the nape of his neck. Arthur hisses a complaint, but it's no good, Merlin knows he loves that. He does it again and Arthur shifts, mouthing along his jaw to catch Merlin's earlobe in his teeth.
"Oh, you bastard," Merlin hisses. Arthur smirks and kisses Merlin once more, one hand going down to curl around his hip, pressing his thumb hard to the bone and relishing in the little cry he gets in response before Merlin bites his lips and scrunches his eyes closed. Merlin lurches forward and Arthur trips over his own feet. They collide with the opposite wall of the cubicle with a thud and it's Arthur's turn to choke back a groan when Merlin's palm presses flat against the front of his trousers. His hand feels hot and solid and Arthur rocks into it a couple of times before he catches himself.
"Oh, fuck, no," he says. "You are not making me come in my fucking trousers again. Do you have any idea how gross that felt?"
"What, when you were begging me for more?" Merlin asks critically. "No, I guess your protests slipped my mind."
"Git."
"Anyway," Merlin continues in an absurdly reasonable tone. "S'not my fault you go off like a rocket."
"Yes it is," Arthur says, and he thinks he surprises them both with how tender the words are when they emerge.
Merlin casts his eyes down coyly for a second before he looks back up, a pleased smile on his face, and he presses a kiss to the corner of Arthur's mouth, fingers working clumsily at Arthur's belt. Their hands tangle when Arthur reaches for Merlin's own trousers, popping them open easily and sliding his hand inside. Merlin groans, low and heated, his face close enough that his hair brushes Arthur's temple. Arthur can't help shifting, just a little, so that their cheeks are pressed together, so that he can feel the satisfied rush of breath when Merlin gets a hand into his trousers, inside his briefs.
"I – " Arthur says, and then the main door opens and he bites his lip, instinctively pressing a hand to Merlin's mouth. Merlin – little shit – just parts his lips and presses his tongue to Arthur's fingertips.
Arthur wants to protest, but he can't exactly do that, not when there's someone only a few metres away. Merlin's slender fingers wrap around Arthur's wrist and pull his hand down, pressing a soft, careful kiss to his lips. Arthur's heart races with every gentle touch of Merlin's tongue because what if they're overheard? Finally, finally, there's the sound of taps running and the door slams shut again. Arthur almost trembles with relief.
"I want – " he says, then cuts himself off and presses his face to the warm, secret skin of Merlin's throat.
"What?" Merlin asks, and Arthur shakes his head. "Tell me," Merlin says insistently, and he curls his fingers into Arthur's hair again, tugging sharply.
"I – " Fuck no, Arthur can't say it, but he can move back far enough to get to his knees in front of Merlin, and he can watch Merlin's eyes go wide and dark. Suddenly it doesn't seem so bad that Arthur loves this as much as he does. God knows Merlin loves the fact that he loves it, makes no secret of the fact that Arthur on his knees sends his brain into a tailspin.
"Oh," Merlin says, and he strokes a hand through Arthur's hair. "Oh. Yeah, we can do that."
Arthur shoves at Merlin's clothes, shirt up a bit, trousers and pants down just enough to tilt his head to one side and mouth his way up the side of Merlin's dick, up to the head which is already wet, salty and bitter on his tongue.
"Arthur, oh my God," Merlin whispers, just like every time, like he can't quite believe it.
Arthur knows he can't claim to be an expert, because there weren't any boys before Merlin, and the sneaking around doesn't lend itself to much beyond fumbling handjobs or breathless grinding, but Merlin certainly doesn't have any complaints. Arthur takes the head into his mouth and Merlin makes a noise like the air's been punched out of him, one hand caressing Arthur's cheek. He's always touching Arthur's face when they do this, his cheeks and his fluttering eyelids, and then later, always the wet stretch of his lips.
Arthur takes him deeper and he thinks, not for the first time, that one of these days he will get Merlin back to his house, into his bed where they can do this for ages, until Arthur's jaw is aching from it, until Merlin is completely insensible from the pleasure of it. Arthur finds a rhythm and a comfortable depth and starts bobbing his head, the movements slicker each time, the hand he has wrapped around the base of Merlin's cock getting wet. Merlin makes a high, trembling, whining sort of noise and Arthur pulls back to look up at him and shush him. It catches in his throat though, because Merlin has his lip clamped so tight between his teeth that it's bloodless, and his free hand is scrabbling uselessly at the wall behind him. Dizzy with lust at the sight, Arthur moves to start sucking him again, but Merlin's fingers curl around his jaw and he says,
"Wait, wait. Can I – I want – "
"What?" Arthur whispers. Merlin shudders, his whole body, and he swipes his thumb over Arthur's lower lip.
The blood is hot in Arthur's face, his pulse roaring as Merlin's thumb gently increases its pressure, coaxing Arthur's mouth open again. Oh God, oh God. It would be easier if Merlin was rough and demanding. This soft pressure, the wordless supplication, they leave Arthur with a way to back out, and he doesn't want to, not really, but he probably will if the crackling tension carries on itching at his skin, making him feel feverish and shaky. Before he can wimp out, before Merlin can say anything, Arthur screws his eyes shut and nods, swiping his tongue over his lower lip and then just waiting.
He doesn't have to wait long before the stiff length pushes into his mouth again. Merlin's careful, keeps it shallow but his breath hitches with every thrust and God, Arthur's head is swimming with it. Normally, he's careful to keep Merlin still, hands hard on his hips, control, control, control. This, though... He can't do much more than tangle his fingers in the bunched fabric of Merlin's trousers, try to pretend those desperate whimpers aren't him.
"Oh, fuck," Merlin whispers, his fingers brushing the hair at Arthur's temple. "God, that's amazing. You have to try this, fuck – "
Arthur makes a strangled gasping noise at the very idea and Merlin pulls back, concern almost overshadowing the naked need in his eyes.
"You okay?"
Arthur nods and resists the urge to wipe a hand across his mouth. His lips are wet, but that can only smooth the way, only make it easier. Merlin touches his hair, and in the same incongruously gentle tone as earlier says, "God, Arthur, your mouth – you're so lovely."
If they weren't already flushed, Arthur's cheeks would surely burn at that. Arthur doesn't have chance to be embarrassed before Merlin is in his mouth again, slow shallow thrusts.
"I want," Merlin says in a plaintive little voice. "A bit more, just a bit, just – "
Holding still and letting Merlin use his mouth has such a strong, strange appeal to it that it takes Arthur a moment to figure out how to move again, pressing forward as Merlin thrusts in, forcing him that bit deeper and it's – oh fuck, it's awkward and it aches and once or twice it makes his eyes water, but it's fucking glorious for all that. They're being far too noisy but Arthur's past caring, lost in the taste, in the solid thickness of the cock filling his mouth, in the noises Merlin's making, in his fingers, curved sweet and gentle around Arthur's jaw.
Of course it can't last forever and Merlin makes these choked uh, uh noises, pushes too deep too fast, once, twice, again, and Arthur's already pulling back when his mouth is flooded, hot and bitter, one errant stripe arcing across his lips. Arthur leans over, spits his mouthful into the toilet bowl and says, "Gahh."
Merlin gives an undignified snort of laughter like it's the funniest thing he's ever heard. Then he's plucking weakly at Arthur's shirt, trying to pull him to his feet. Arthur complies a bit unsteadily – tiled floors are less than friendly to knees – and all but collapses against Merlin who pushes at him ineffectually and says, "Move, move, let me – "
For all this bold words about not coming in his pants, Arthur just rocks into the sharp, too much, not enough pressure of Merlin's hip.
"Come on, shh now, shh," Merlin's muttering, and Arthur realises only then that his breath is ragged, that it sounds almost like sobbing, that he's fucking frantic.
One long fingered hand on his chest grounds him a little, and the other ducks into his pants again. The first touch is so gentle he barely feels it, and he doesn't recognise the wrecked voice that hisses, "Please, Merlin, please."
Merlin gets a decent grip then, and Arthur clamps down on every muscle in his body because damn it, he is past the stage of coming from a single touch. (No, really, he is.) Merlin's stroking smoothly now, and Arthur realises his cock must have been positively leaking precome because the movements are so wet, so easy. Then Merlin nudges Arthur's head up and with a deliberate, calculating look in his eyes, licks at Arthur's lips. No, at his own come, Arthur realises with a jolt.
"Fucking – Jesus," Arthur grits out, pressing the words to Merlin's lips and clutching at him, driving his cock through the tight circle of Merlin's fist. Merlin slams a kiss onto his mouth just in time to muffle his shout and cups his hand so that when Arthur comes, hips twitching, breath stuttering, he's prevented from making a mess all over their uniforms.
He hears the rattle as Merlin scrabbles for tissue, the flush of the toilet, but Arthur doesn't even make an effort to move, just drinking in the closeness, the boneless satiety, the easiness of being with Merlin like this. The silence lasts for a long, peaceful moment before a soft hand cups his cheek and Merlin whispers,
"Hey. Okay?"
Arthur nods and, unable to help himself, turns his head and presses a kiss to Merlin's palm. Merlin smiles at him, soft, fond, like he's worked out a secret.
"Here," Merlin says, grabbing another handful of tissue and dabbing at Arthur's mouth. Arthur laughs and takes the tissue from his hand, wiping his mouth and watching from the corner of his eye as Merlin makes an effort to straighten his clothes. Arthur does the same and they duck out of the stall. He watches surreptitiously in the mirrors as they wash their hands, and he can't help noticing the little smile still playing over Merlin's lips.
"I'll pick you up from the bus stop, yeah?" Arthur asks. Merlin nods and smiles wider, pursing his lips in a kiss before he ducks out into the corridor. Arthur watches him go and just waits for a moment, wondering how the hell he's meant to look attentive for the next forty five minutes.
sequel-ish kind of thing here
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