leashy_bebes | fic: Like Thunder (1/1)

Title: Like Thunder (1/1)
Pairing: Merlin/Gwaine
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Written for this prompt at

kinkme_merlin of modern club AU, one night stand, lots of flirting and so on. Basically: porn.
Notes: Thanks to

eldee for the beta. Title from motorhead's 'one night stand'
Word Count: ~6500
Disclaimer: Not mine, not real, all that dull stuff.

Merlin first sees the man in the queue for the club. He's tall, well-built but not overly muscled, a head of artfully tousled dark hair. Even from behind there's something about the line of his shoulders under his dark blue shirt, about the way his back tapers down to slim hips. When he turns to say something to one of his friends Merlin gets a glimpse of a strong profile, a shade of stubble on his jaw, devilish crinkles around his eyes as he laughs at his friend.

"Merlin," Arthur says. "Stop perving."

"Oh my god, shut up," Merlin hisses, elbowing Arthur in the ribs and trying to surreptitiously work out whether Gorgeous Guy heard that or not.

"Boys," Freya says mildly. "Be nice."

The queue inches forward and Freya huddles into Merlin for warmth. He wraps an arm around her and half-listens to Arthur and Will bickering. As they shuffle along, Gorgeous Guy half-turns and catches Merlin's eye. He looks him up and down, blatant and appreciative.

It's stupid, but Merlin's first instinct is to pull Will and Arthur in to join them in an obvious show of, what, no, that isn't my girlfriend. Or better yet, shove Freya at Arthur. Not that he really thinks anything would happen between them, but it's fun to watch. Something about Freya's bone-deep sweetness ties Arthur up in knots, and it's like he doesn't know how to act around someone so gentle.

Before Merlin gets a chance to implement either plan, the queue moves forward and tall, dark and – Jesus fucking Christ – really, really handsome turns back to his friends. Merlin's excited, wants him already, just from one appraising glance. It's been far, far too long, Merlin thinks ruefully.

***

When they get inside the club it's already heaving, the speakers blasting out some techno shit that makes Freya squeal with excitement and dive straight for the dance floor, pausing only to hand her coat to Arthur. He passes it to Merlin along with his own before he follows Freya. Merlin in turn shoves all three at Will and makes a beeline for the bar before he can raise any objections.

He gets back to where Will's commandeered a small table and sets his handful of drinks down. Before too long Freya and Arthur emerge from the crowd and claim their glasses. Merlin's penance for abandoning Will to the cloakroom is to be sent off to the bar again in short order. While he's trying to get the attention of one of the barmaids, Merlin sees him again. He's sitting on a stool on the opposite side of the horseshoe shaped bar, a glass of whisky in his hand. Their eyes meet again, and the guy gives Merlin a slow, smouldering smile. Not for the first time, Merlin curses his friends and their love of huge nightclubs. What are the odds of keeping track of a guy like that somewhere like this?

The guy raises his glass in a toast and Merlin grins at him. Fuck keeping track of him, Merlin thinks. He might just go over there right now and ask the guy to dance. The others can get their own drinks. Just then Arthur barrels into him from behind, slinging an arm around Merlin's shoulders and demanding to know what's taking him so long. When Merlin looks up, the guy is gone and he elbows Arthur sharply in the ribs.

"What?" Arthur demands, looking wounded and confused.

"Oh – nothing," Merlin mutters, exasperated, finally grabbing the barmaid's attention, losing a bit of his irritation when Arthur wordlessly reaches past Merlin to pay for the drinks. Idly, Merlin wonders what Mr. Sexy Pants is called.

He doesn't expect to see him again though, never mind have the chance to find out, and Merlin's pretty much already chalked it up to a missed opportunity when later, on the dance floor, Freya goes on her tiptoes to yell into his ear, "That guy is checking you out."

Merlin turns to look in the direction Freya's indicating. It's the same guy from before and he gives Merlin another of those slow-burning smiles. Merlin shoots him a pleased grin and when he turns back to Freya she's laughing.

"You look like you want to eat him up," she shouts. Merlin just waggles his eyebrows and gives her a lecherous grin, tossing back the last of his drink. The guy was standing not far from the bar, and any excuse is a good excuse as far as he's concerned right now. By the time he's located Arthur and Will and pushed Freya towards them the guy has vanished into the crowd again.

Fuck's sake, Merlin thinks despairingly, and rejoins his friends via a large vodka. It's seems like he's bound to keep seeing and missing the guy all night.

***

Merlin loses track of his friends for a while, but isn't that fussed, just drifting through the crowd from room to room, music blurring together while he tries to convince himself he's not actually searching for Mr. Sexy Pants. Whatever, he spots Will first, putting the moves on a blonde in a red dress, or possibly her brunette friend in the green. Knowing Will, it might well be both. Merlin leaves him to it.

He thinks he catches a glimpse of Sexy Guy again, but before he can investigate further, Arthur appears from nowhere and grabs his wrist, tipping his head towards the corridor. As they get there, Merlin's head buzzing in the sudden relative quiet, Freya emerges from the ladies' loos.

"Everything okay?" Merlin asks, looking between them.

"Just some dickhead tried to get a bit handsy on the dance floor," Arthur says heavily.

Merlin looks more closely at Freya. "You alright?"

She nods and says, "Arthur saved me," with a little grin.

"Regular knight in shining armour," Merlin says, nudging Arthur.

"We're just going out for a cigarette," Arthur tells him. "Calm our nerves."

"Calm your nerves," Merlin scoffs. "Any excuse."

"Hold my bag for me?" Freya asks, and she gives him that sweet smile that she knows full well he can't resist.

Merlin holds his hand out for the bag. "Fine. Don't be long."

As he settles himself on a low ledge to wait for them, Merlin thinks that it might be worth taking up smoking just so he stops getting left holding Freya's girly little bags.

"Nice handbag," a voice says.

Merlin lifts his gaze the length of a pair of long, long legs, further up over a narrow waist, to broad shoulders and a beautiful face. Naturally. Insanely Sexy Blue Shirt Guy chooses to come and speak to Merlin when he's clutching a small, silver, terribly spangly bag.

"It's...not actually mine," Merlin says.

The guy's lips quirk in a smile and he sits down on the ledge next to Merlin. "So," he says, leaning closer to speak into Merlin's ear, even though there's really not any need out here. "Are we going to talk, or just continue flirting from a distance?"

Merlin laughs. "Flirting, huh?"

"Mmm." A single finger lands on his knee, traces circles. "What's your name?"

"Merlin."

"Hm. I like it," the guy says. "I'm Gwaine."

Merlin turns the name around in his head. It suits him.

"Hello, Gwaine," he says, lifting Gwaine's finger from his knee and waggling it as though they're shaking hands.

"Hello, Merlin." Gwaine shifts so he has one hand on the wall behind Merlin and is half-turned to face him. The proximity is a little bit thrilling. Gwaine is very...focused. Intense seems like the wrong word, because his smile is so soft and his eyes warm and gentle. Still, he's very close and Merlin can feel the warmth of him and he's – not drunk exactly, but pleasantly buzzed.

Merlin can feel the words shiver down the back of his neck when Gwaine nudges him with his shoulder and asks, "Having a good night?"

"So far, yeah, not bad."

"Huh. Anything I can do to improve on not bad?"

Merlin can think of about a million things, all of them filthy, but settles on, "You could buy me a drink when my friend gets back for her bag."

"Oh, could I?" Gwaine asks, giving Merlin that slow, curling smile again. "Yeah, I imagine I could. You're fucking gorgeous, you know," he says, leaning in and his voice is pure sex for a second before he leans back a little and says expansively, "Tell me, Merlin, do you believe in fate?"

"Er – what?" The sudden change of pace throws Merlin a bit but there's a look of mischief on Gwaine's face that Merlin likes very much.

"You know. Fate. Kismet. A divine plan and all that."

Oh, please, Merlin thinks. Please don't be crazy. You're much too lovely to be crazy.

"Because I must have seen you half a dozen times since the queue," Gwaine says. "And in a place this size, I think that's got to be some sort of sign, don't you?"

Okay, maybe not crazy. Maybe just cheesy as hell.

But that sort of suits him too. It goes with the smile and the laughing eyes and all in all, he has the charm to pull it off. Merlin glances towards the door and wills Freya and Arthur to hurry up.

***

Merlin soon learns that Gwaine is a terrible flirt, but funny with it, and doesn't take himself or his lines too seriously. He makes Merlin feel instantly comfortable. He's charming but it comes off lazy and easy, rather than a practiced pick-up routine. They find a spot near the bar to linger in, talking a little awkwardly over the noise. Merlin feels a bit clumsy, even though he hasn't drunk that much. It's just that Gwaine is so close Merlin can feel the heat of him, can smell the crisp pine-and-pepper of his aftershave.

It makes his head spin a little and he's unabashed in touching Gwaine a bit more than is strictly necessary, leaning a hand on his shoulder for balance or cupping his elbow to get his attention. Gwaine just gives him more of those slow smiles, predatory and promising all at once. He's so bloody sexy, and Merlin just has to hope his luck will last the night. He feels like it probably will. It's been a long time since Merlin's been the focus of so much attention, such blatant interest.

At one point Gwaine leans across Merlin to set his empty glass down on a shelf. As he moves back, he tucks Merlin's hair behind his ear, breathes against his temple to make him shiver, and says,

"You have the most beautiful eyes."

Merlin laughs and shoves him gently in the chest. "How drunk are you?"

"Nah. I'm like this all the time," Gwaine says, with the air of a promise.

"God help us."

Gwaine throws his head back and laughs and Merlin's eyes latch onto the line of his throat. He wants to taste it, feel the rasp of the shadowed stubble on his tongue and lips. Gwaine catches him looking, curls his arm around Merlin's waist and draws him in close. He brushes a kiss over Merlin's temple, much too sweet and familiar for someone he's only just met, but it's nice all the same.

"Dance with me?" Gwaine requests, one palm pressed to the small of Merlin's back, hot through his shirt. Merlin nods and finishes off the last of his drink. He's not even really a fan of dancing, but ever since they've been standing there with their drinks he's been itching to drag Gwaine onto the crowded dance floor, to get close to him and feel hard muscles against his own.

Gwaine's arm is still around his waist and he's murmuring things Merlin's only half-catching, like gorgeous and have to and the second I saw you. Merlin shivers at the feel of him so close, his breath, the buzz of his voice. He steps away though, because if he doesn't do it now, he never will.

Gwaine stays close behind him and Merlin's still aware of him even when they slip into the crowd. They lose each other for an instant, but then Gwaine's in front of him, bright smile painted a succession of colours by the lights as he reaches for Merlin, hands falling onto his hips and guiding him closer. Merlin's not much of a dancer, but when he winds his arms around Gwaine's waist there's not much room to move anyway.

The music is something Merlin doesn't recognise, a heavy bass beat that he can feel all the way down to his toes. He can feel sweat beaded along his collarbones, the heat of the club almost oppressive, but nothing compared to the burn of Gwaine's hands, hot even through the denim of his jeans. Gwaine moves easily, fluid and natural, making it easy for Merlin to sway along with him.

Gwaine's smile is thrilling, setting off mad little flickers of excitement all through Merlin's body. He inches closer, slides one hand around from Gwaine's waist, up over his chest – god, gorgeous, hard muscle through his shirt – to his shoulder. Gwaine palms the small of Merlin's back, drawing him in, and he draws his mouth over Merlin's jaw, not even really a kiss. Merlin leans into it all, the sharp graze of his stubble and the hard press of his fingers.

Merlin lets the beat move him, finds himself with his back to Gwaine, his hard chest firm against his shoulder blades. Gwaine snakes an arm around Merlin's waist, pressing his palm flat against Merlin's stomach. Their hips line up for a second, catch and push together, and Merlin can't help himself, lets out a little noise of desire into the overheated air. He presses his hand over Gwaine's and feels warm lips on the side of his throat.

It's definitely a kiss this time, and Merlin arches into it, tips his head to one side in a silent plea for more. Gwaine's other hand skims from high on his thigh, up over his hip, his waist, over his arm. The touch feels hungry, covetous, and Merlin gives up and just melts into him. Gwaine says something that might be fucking sexy, but Merlin barely hears it over his own lust, let alone the music.

Merlin doesn't know how long they dance for, or who initiates the string of kisses that freeze them both in the crowd and only end when they're jostled three times in quick succession. He's so turned on that it feels electric. They're not being totally obscene, but they're not far off it either. Merlin sees his friends at one point, Arthur looking vaguely scandalised and Will looking drunk (and delighted, if the lipstick smudged on his cheek is any indicator) while Freya gives him an over-enthusiastic thumbs up.

Just when Merlin is thinking that actually, no, he's not above fucking in a club toilet, Gwaine presses the length of their bodies close together.

"Come on," he says, his voice a low rumble that shivers its way down Merlin's neck. "Enough fooling. Come home with me?"

"Yeah," Merlin says breathlessly, reaching up to curl a hand through his hair. "Yeah, okay."

***

Outside the club, Gwaine keeps his hand on Merlin's elbow, keeping them close to each other while they wait for a cab.

"You live far from here?"

Gwaine shrugs. "Only a ten minute drive. You know those three big towerblocks near Stratford station?"

"Oh, yeah. I go that way on the train a lot."

"See?" Gwaine says with a bright smile. "Fate."

Before Merlin can mock, Gwaine silences him with a soft kiss. Merlin tries to deepen it but Gwaine steps back with a rueful grin.

"Cab's here. Come on."

When they get in, Gwaine takes the middle seat so they're pressed together. He sits with his legs a little splayed and Merlin can see the tight hard bump of his cock. Merlin swallows hard and fixes his eyes on the seat opposite. He hears Gwaine's soft huff of laughter and his leg presses harder against Merlin's. He can't help smiling.

The taxi pulls away and Merlin startles when Gwaine's hand comes to rest on his leg. He glances anxiously at the rearview mirror, to see the driver's eyes firmly on the road. Gwaine snorts with soft laughter and squeezes Merlin's thigh. His hand curves further around, fingers teasing over the seam of Merlin's jeans.

"Gwaine – " Merlin says, low and warning.

"I'm sorry," Gwaine says blithely. "I just can't keep my hands off you." He lifts his hand scant millimetres from Merlin's leg as though it's a great effort. "See? Physically impossible."

Merlin laughs. "You have got the cheesiest lines I've ever heard."

"They working?" Gwaine asks.

"They really are," Merlin admits.

"Good to know."

The journey feels a lot quicker than ten minutes, possibly because Merlin can't think straight enough to notice time passing. Gwaine's hand is still on his thigh, sometimes just resting, but other times squeezing or sliding up and down to his knee in a fleeting caress. Merlin's feeling just drunk enough to be daring and, trying to maintain an innocent expression, he reaches over and palms Gwaine's cock through his jeans.

Gwaine makes a soft noise and Merlin's not sure if it's protest or approval until Gwaine shifts his hips minutely against Merlin's hand an says, "Raising the stakes, are we?"

He obviously doesn't care about the cabbie's opinion as much as Merlin does because he leans over and drags his lips over Merlin's jaw. While he does it he runs a finger, just one, over the straining line of Merlin's dick, a slow, firm press.

Sod the cabbie, Merlin thinks, and turns his head, catching Gwaine's mouth. Gwaine's free hand comes up to cup his face, holding him still and forcing the kiss to turn into something slow, simmering and exploratory.

A pointedly loud cough startles them apart and Merlin realises the cab has stopped outside a tower block. Gwaine reaches across him and opens the door. Merlin doesn't have time to feel cold before Gwaine's paid the driver, slung an arm around Merlin's shoulders and is leading him inside.

"Come on," he says. "Let's take the lift."

Merlin lets himself be herded into the small lift. Gwaine starts kissing him before the door are even shut. He reaches out blindly and stabs at the buttons before he unzips Merlin's jacket, running his hands over Merlin's sides and around to his back, pulling him in close. Merlin curls his hands into the lapels of Gwaine's coat and deepens the kiss, tasting his fill.

Gwaine works his leg in between Merlin's, hitches up to press his hard thigh against Merlin's cock. Merlin gives up on any pretence at restraint and moans, grinding down hard.

"That's it," Gwaine urges. "Come on, sweetheart."

Merlin lets his head fall back against the lift wall and sighs out a breath when Gwaine mouths soft and wet at his throat. He hooks his fingers through Gwaine's belt and yanks him in closer.

The ding as the lift door opens surprises them both.

Gwaine grabs Merlin by the hand, leading him down the corridor. As Gwaine stops in front of a door, Merlin plasters himself the length of his back. Gwaine groans and says, "You're being very distracting," as he fumbles with his keys. There's no real complaint there though, so Merlin just kisses the side of his neck and winds his arms around Gwaine's waist.

They're only halfway through the door when Merlin pulls Gwaine around to face him and goes to work on the frustratingly long line of silver buttons on Gwaine's long grey coat. Gwaine groans and bats his hands away.

"Let me close the door at least," he protests. "Unless giving the neighbours an eyeful is your thing?"

"It's not," Merlin says. He would be embarrassed, but frankly he's too fucking turned on. As Gwaine shuts the door Merlin shrugs out of his jacket. He's not a one-night-stand-every-weekend kind of guy, so this part is still strange to him, moving through the trappings of someone else's life when you know nothing about them. There's a coat rack on the wall, but to just hang his jacket there seems a bit forward. Which is ridiculous given what they're here for.

Gwaine solves his dilemma by plucking Merlin's jacket from his hand and hanging it up with the rest. God, why am I thinking about the coat rack? Merlin wonders desperately before Gwaine's hands cup his face and pull him into a kiss. All thoughts, furniture based or otherwise disappear in an instant. Merlin returns the kiss while his fingers work on autopilot, resuming their battle against Gwaine's coat.

"Here," Gwaine says, pressing his palm to Merlin's side through his shirt. "Shh. Slower."

Merlin makes a noise of complaint but does as he's told, letting the kiss turn soft and gentle. Gwaine drops his own coat to the floor in his eagerness to get his hands back on Merlin. It's gratifying, to say the least. Merlin winds his arms around Gwaine's neck and the kiss turns into a string of soft pecks as Gwaine walks Merlin backwards down the hall.

With only a couple of fumbled steps Gwaine steers them into what Merlin guesses is a bedroom. Gwaine seems to have lost his appetite for slower, one hand undoing Merlin's belt while the other gropes behind him. There's a click and the room is suddenly flooded with light. The only thing Merlin notices is a hastily made double bed and he takes a step towards it before Gwaine catches him around the waist and says,

"Wait, wait."

With an impatient groan, Merlin falls back against the wall. He can't complain though when Gwaine makes short work of undoing his shirt. He nips at Merlin's collarbone as he exposes it and says,

"God, you're lovely."

Merlin colours and tugs lightly on Gwaine's hair. "You've already got me home with you, I don't need any more persuading."

"Ah, but that blush," Gwaine says, brushing his cheek feather-light over Merlin's. "It's quite something."

"For God's sake," Merlin tuts, pulling Gwaine into a kiss, biting his lip in an effort to silence him just for a second.

Gwaine laughs and turns the kiss into something teasing, making Merlin chase after his mouth. He barely notices his shirt falling to the floor, but he can't not notice Gwaine's fingers hooking inside the front of his jeans, pulling him away from the wall, turning him and walking him towards the bed. Gwaine's easily undoes Merlin's belt, and Merlin's jeans and pants are heading down his thighs before he realises Gwaine's still basically fully clothed, and that just will not do. As he opens his mouth to protest though, Gwaine drops to the floor on his knees, taking Merlin's clothes with him.

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, looking up at Merlin and running a hand over each of his tense, trembling thighs.

"Oh, fuck, yes," Merlin gasps, sitting abruptly on the edge of the mattress, his knees gone weak. Gwaine reaches over, rifling through a drawer in the bedside cabinet and Merlin takes the opportunity to toe his shoes and socks off, kicking the whole bundle of his clothes away.

Gwaine presses Merlin's legs further apart and kneels between his feet, scratching Merlin's thighs with his stubble and handing Merlin a condom. Merlin's hands tremble as he rips the foil open and he's so turned on he fumbles it a couple of times before he gets it on. Gwaine doesn't help by biting, sucking a little bruise high on the tender skin of Merlin's thigh. Merlin groans and tips his head back, panting up at the ceiling, trying to get himself under control.

There's no chance of that though, when Gwaine's mouth sinks down on him without hesitation. It's hot, hot, and Merlin's eyes roll back in his head when Gwaine lifts his head, sucking hard. When he first curls a hand into Gwaine's hair he lets go almost instantly, gasping, "Sorry, sorry."

Gwaine huffs a breathy laugh and reaches up, pulling Merlin's hand back to his head. Merlin's lost then, letting out a quavering oh fuck, and sinking both hands into Gwaine's thick hair. His composure slips a little – because how can it not? – and he holds Gwaine's head still, rocking his hips shallowly. Gwaine's only response is a muffled groan. And then – Jesus, he reaches down and presses the heel of his hand hard against his cock, grinding into it.

Merlin's nearly off his head with pleasure, babbling all kinds of broken nonsense about Gwaine's fucking perfect mouth, oh Jesus, fuck, don't stop. Gwaine takes him to the edge and then just leaves him there, just backs off completely, kneeling between Merlin's feet, a hand on either side of his hips. He looks up at Merlin, eyes laughing, lips puffy and Merlin lifts an embarrassingly shaky hand to rub the pad of his thumb over Gwaine's lower lip.

"Jesus Christ," he says breathlessly.

Gwaine gives him a smug smile. "Yeah."

"Jesus Christ," Merlin says again.

Gwaine pushes himself up on his hands to plant a soft kiss on Merlin's mouth. He tastes of the rubber, but Merlin couldn't care less. He decides abruptly that he's had more than enough of being reduced to an incoherent puddle.

Turnabout is only fair play.

Merlin pushes at Gwaine's shoulders and frustrated, demands, "Why are you still dressed?"

"Priorities," Gwaine grins, and he kisses Merlin again until Merlin turns his head.

"Clothes. Off. Now."

Gwaine laughs and pushes himself off Merlin. "Lube and condoms," he says, nodding. "Top drawer."

"Gotcha." Merlin scrambles through the drawer and he's all set to pass the lube to Gwaine when he turns around, but holy shit. Merlin doesn't think he's ever seen someone so perfect, let alone shagged them.

"Oh, Jesus," he breathes, and drops the supplies onto the bed in favour of pushing Gwaine down into the sheets and kissing him hard, dragging one hand down over his chest. He slides down the length of Gwaine's body and traces those absurdly defined abs with his fingers and tongue. Gwaine's hands catch in his hair and he seems to melt under Merlin's touch, all languid grace.

Merlin wants – needs – to drive him crazy. He drags their bodies together as he reaches up above Gwaine for the lube. Gwaine moves to take it but Merlin shakes his head and moves back, kneeling astride Gwaine's thighs.

"Wait," he says, pressing one palm flat against that sculpted stomach for balance while he reaches back with the other, between his legs. Gwaine realises what he's doing and groans, reaching for him. Merlin sways back though, out of reach of his hands and says, "Just watch."

Gwaine looks frustrated for a second but then he leans back into the sheets with his hands behind his head and says, "Go on then, beautiful. Give me a show."

Merlin's not deliberately noisy but he can't help the soft sigh that leaves him when he pushes a first finger gently inside. Merlin loves getting fucked, everything about it, even that first tease of a penetration that's nothing like enough. He's up to two fingers and working them back and forth before Gwaine speaks again.

"How's it feel?"

"Good," Merlin says shortly, working his hips in circles. The angle is endlessly frustrating.

"Sure?" Gwaine teases.

"No, it's – I need it – "

"What? Tell me what you need, Merlin."

"I need it deeper," Merlin blurts.

Gwaine's lips curl into a devilish smile and it's the only hint Merlin gets before Gwaine's thigh presses firmly against the back of his hand, forcing his fingers that little bit deeper. Fuck, it feels so much better to grind down against Gwaine's solid strength. Gwaine's hands are fisted at his sides now and he only lasts a couple more minutes before he half-sits and grabs Merlin's hips, holding him still, forcing a desperate little whimper from him.

"That's it," Gwaine says breathlessly. "I'm afraid you don't get to have all the fun."

Merlin's laugh is shaky as he works his fingers free and lets Gwaine coax him onto his back. The first thing Gwaine does is kiss him, harder than before, biting. Merlin arches into it and Gwaine presses his forehead to Merlin's for a moment before he says, "Do you even know – my god, Merlin, you are delicious."

He draws back just enough to reach down between Merlin's legs where he's wet and open. For a minute, Gwaine just rubs the pads of two fingers back and forth across his hole and Merlin wants to scream. Then Gwaine presses a single finger into him and God, it's so fucking good. Not thick enough but deeper than Merlin had managed during his bloody contortion act.

Merlin's rocking his hips before Gwaine's so much as twitched his finger inside Merlin. He feels reckless and desperate but he's pretty sure Gwaine's not going to be put off by wantonness.

"Come on," Merlin pleads, splaying his legs wider and setting his feet flat on the bed, pushing up for more.

Gwaine turns his head and kisses Merlin's knee before he fucks back in with three fingers this time, making Merlin whine and scrabble at the sheets.

"Too much?" Gwaine asks, his breath hot on Merlin's thigh.

"Nnng. No. Keep going."

Gwaine laughs and starts finger-fucking Merlin in earnest, twisting his hand on the way in. Merlin clenches his fists in the sheets and burrows his head into the pillows. When he looks up at Gwaine he finds him smiling, intent, his eyes fixed on where his fingers are filling Merlin. He shuffles a little closer, taking one of Merlin's legs in his free hand and lifting it, bending it back towards his chest.

Merlin feels spread open and on display, and he doesn't mind a bit. He squeezes his arse around Gwaine's fingers and reaches down to feel Gwaine's knuckles, slick with lube against his rim.

"Fuck," Gwaine says wonderingly. "I could do this for ages."

"Oh, God."

"Yeah. Could just play with that sweet little arse until you come all over yourself."

The bad-porn dialogue shouldn't be such a turn on, but Merlin finds himself panting for it, curling his fingers around Gwaine's wrist to try and force his fingers deeper, harder.

Gwaine groans and he sounds completely undone as he says, "Except fucking you is really not an opportunity I'm looking to pass up."

"God, yeah," Merlin agrees.

Gwaine fishes out another condom and Merlin sprawls back against the pillows, one hand cupping his cock as he watches Gwaine keenly. Despite his rough breaths and the heated looks he keeps sending Merlin's way, Gwaine is quick with the condom. But he still doesn't make any move towards Merlin, who makes a vague noise of complaint.

Gwaine just says, "Hang on, just let me watch you a little bit, yeah?"

Merlin can't help a shaky laugh. "Yeah? Like a bit of a show, do you?"

"From you?" Gwaine's eyes flicker over him, so intent it feels like a touch. "Who wouldn't?"

And Merlin would defy anyone, male or female, gay, straight or celibate for reasons of deeply held personal moral beliefs to turn down an invitation like that from someone like Gwaine. He lets his legs fall open wider, tightens his hand around his cock and shifts his hips lazily into his own grip.

He doesn't miss the way Gwaine's tongue darts out to wet his lips, and Merlin directs his triumphant smile towards the ceiling.

"C'mon," Gwaine urges, closer all of a sudden, hands pushing Merlin's legs wider. Merlin slides his other hand over his stomach, scratches blunt fingernails up the length of his own thigh. He has to grab at his balls, give them a sharp little tug, because Gwaine is so fucking hot, and he's right there, urging Merlin on – go on, fuck, I can't wait, come on, beautiful.

When he feels like he's as in control as he's likely to get, Merlin pushes his fingers back into his arse, so easy this time and he whines for it, going relaxed under Gwaine's hands, tipping his head back and pushing, pushing because he can't get deep enough and –

"Jesus," Gwaine says, low and rough.

It's a bit embarrassing, how easily he manhandles Merlin into his lap, but then Gwaine's kissing him again and there's no room for anything but pure lust, simple and white-hot.

"Want you," Gwaine tells him. "Wanted you as soon as I saw you, yeah, in those sinful fucking jeans, Merlin, god – "

"Gwaine, please," Merlin begs, and who cares if he sounds desperate, he bloody well is and Gwaine's such a tease that Merlin's positively aching for it.

"Yeah?" Gwaine asks, catching Merlin's mouth in a kiss. "You want that, gorgeous? Want to sit on my dick and ride me til you – "

"Enough, fucking hell, just – "

Merlin lifts up a little and Gwaine's cock drags hot and heavy between the cheeks of Merlin's arse and they both moan.

"Here, fuck, here," Gwaine says, sounding breathless. He grips the base of his cock and his other hand curves around Merlin's hip, steadying him. The thick swell of Gwaine's cockhead makes Merlin gasp as it presses into him. Gwaine's thumb brushes over his hipbone and Merlin presses down and down, taking that hot length into his body.

Gwaine is biting his lip ragged and his hands are both on Merlin's hips now, gripping hard. Merlin would bet it's all to stop himself taking over, fucking up into Merlin just as hard as he can, and he feels absurdly grateful for the consideration. He busses a gentle kiss onto Gwaine's cheek and then once Gwaine is halfway inside the rest is easy and Merlin shudders in pleasure at the blissful fullness.

"Good?" Gwaine breathes, his voice soft in the air between them, his hands sliding around to the small of Merlin's back.

"Mmmm..." It's about as coherent as Merlin can get right now, so he just rocks his hips minutely to make sure Gwaine knows it's a good mmmm.

Gwaine murmurs something soft and pushes Merlin's sweat-damp hair out of his eyes, then runs his thumb over Merlin's lower lip. Merlin bites at it playfully and Gwaine laughs, his other hand on the small of Merlin's back again, pulling him in tight. Just that little bit of movement sends rippling shocks of pleasure through Merlin, chasing away the last of his discomfort.

"C'mon, sweetheart," Gwaine says, dragging his mouth along Merlin's jaw. "Show me what you've got."

The challenge in his voice is friendly and Merlin ducks his head just enough to give Gwaine a quick kiss before he starts up a hesitant, stuttering rhythm, lifting himself a little and then dropping down and forward, grinding against the hard length of Gwaine's cock as it fills him.

Gwaine's hand falls to his hip, urging him up higher, pulling him down faster and Merlin gives into it, riding him harder, faster, watching his eyes go dark with pleasure. Merlin shudders at every drag of Gwaine's cock over almost unbearably sensitive nerves. Gwaine's free hand drags the length of Merlin's back to tangle in his hair and cup the back of his skull, and he just looks at Merlin, eye-fucking to go with the actual fucking Merlin thinks a bit madly. He thinks he can be excused though because he doesn't think he's ever been watched like that, by someone who looks like they just want to eat him up.

It's way too intense for a one night stand – not that Merlin is complaining, and not like he has a wealth of one-nighters to compare it to. He's just never thought semi-drunk, essentially anonymous sex could be like this, could make him feel so good, turned-the-fuck on of course, but happy with it.

"Noisy thinker," Gwaine tells him at one point, and then Merlin just switches off his brain, gives into the push and pull between them, digs his fingers – a little harder than is strictly necessary for simple leverage – into Gwaine's muscled shoulders and tries to breathe through the aching pleasure of it all.

"Jesus, I can't," Merlin says weakly. He is so not ready for this to be over but he can't help it. He's too close and it feels too good. Gwaine can read him far too well for someone he's only just met, and he reaches a hand between them, obviously going for Merlin's dick.

"No, don't, don't," Merlin says desperately, because it really will be over in a heartbeat if Gwaine gets that large, strong hand on him.

Gwaine groans and clutches at Merlin's thigh instead. "Fuck, you're amazing," he says. "You wanna come just like this, yeah? Just from my cock?"

"Yeah, fucking hell, so perfect, Gwaine, Jesus – "

Gwaine leans back a little on his hands and gives a genuinely impressive thrust up into Merlin's body.

"Bloody hell, do you do yoga or something?" Merlin demands,

"Huh?"

"Bendy," Merlin explains, and he rubs his fingertips back and forth over the muscles in Gwaine's chest and stomach as they ripple with his movements.

Merlin doesn't last much beyond the thought of painting those hard muscles with his come, and he can feel his body clutching and clenching around Gwaine's cock, desperate to draw it out. Maybe that's what tips Gwaine over the edge too, Merlin's not to sure, except he thinks it must be because Gwaine muffles a shout into Merlin's shoulder and then they're breathing hard, panting into each other's mouths in a sloppy approximation of a kiss and Merlin can hear himself breathing, "Jesus Christ, goddamn."

Gwaine tells him he has a filthy mouth and then kisses him like it's the best thing in the world.

***

In the morning, Merlin wakes to Gwaine pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Merlin's never thought of the shoulder in general, or his shoulder in particular as especially erogenous, but he might have to revise that, because Gwaine is certainly very dedicated to his task.

"Hello," Merlin says, his throat dry.

Gwaine's hand curves over his ribs and he mutters, "Mmm, hi," against Merlin's skin.

Merlin tangles his fingers through Gwaine's and bends his head, nudging Gwaine up. They kiss lazily for a moment before Gwaine pulls back to look at him seriously.

"There's something I should say," he tells Merlin.

Merlin feels his heart sink. Naturally. There would be a catch. He can't be almost absurdly attractive, fantastic in bed, and apparently very into Merlin without there being some massive, terrible catch. Married with kids but the wife doesn't understand him? Only out on day release from the psychiatric ward? Was, against all the evidence, blind drunk?

"Sorry," Gwaine says.

"Huh?"

"About last night. Hardly up to par."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, not you," Gwaine says, one hand roaming up and down Merlin's side in a slow, lazy exploration. "You were perfect. Me, I mean. Booze, you know. Does nothing for my stamina."

Merlin personally has his doubts about that but he has pretty much no idea where this is headed so he just ventures, "Uh-huh?"

"Well, you know, I think you deserve a rematch. I'd hate you to leave with the wrong idea. My reputation could be in tatters."

Merlin frowns up at the ceiling over Gwaine's shoulder. "Is that your way of saying you want to see me again?"

Gwaine gives a huff of laughter, face tucked in close to Merlin's neck, and Merlin can imagine his smile. "Might be."

"Yeah," Merlin says. "Yeah, okay."

Current Mood: busy

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Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

eldee.livejournal.com

jkf;lakj;lkjsd;klfjds YOU KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT THIS FIC, BB. Hot. Hooooot. I love how you wrote both Merlin (so cute and wonderful and dear) and Gwaine, playful and lovely and totally smitten with Merlin

And then all the sexin GOODNESS ME.

THIS. Yes, I love these boys.

From:

doing things you hate is just the price you pay to avoid loneliness

fic: Like Thunder (1/1)

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