fic: Untitled (1/1)
May. 6th, 2011 11:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesTitle: Untitled
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Breathplay PWP
Notes: Written for this prompt at the Merlin First Time Fest, reposting because I'm a nerd about having everything i the same place.
Warnings: Consensual breathplay (using hands)
Word Count: 1000
"Are you sure?" Merlin asks, for what feels like the fifteenth time.
"Merlin." Arthur, already rumpled and always gorgeous, twists his oiled fingers where they're pressing into Merlin's arse and says, "Ask me that one more time and I will tie you to that chair, and make you watch while I finish myself off. Slowly. Then, I'll send you back to your room."
Merlin rocks into Arthur's insistent explorations and grits out, "Understood."
Arthur smirks and pulls his fingers out, the teasing bastard. While Merlin rocks above him, cringing at the emptiness, Arthur reaches down to stroke himself.
"Come on," he says. "Take me."
The words have a whole other meaning when Merlin allows himself to think about what Arthur wants him to do next. Instead of lingering on the idea and probably turning tail to find a quiet corner in which to have a breakdown, like he had the first time Arthur mentioned it, Merlin lifts up higher on his knees, holding himself above Arthur's dick. Arthur teases him with it, running the head over his slick hole, working it inside only to let it pop straight out again.
"Arthur," Merlin complains, and Arthur relents.
"Take it slowly," he says, as though Merlin needs telling. He thinks Arthur enjoys watching it almost as much as Merlin enjoys the sensation of being filled slow and deep and inevitable. He squirms down against Arthur, down and down until their bodies are flush together. Arthur makes a satisfied noise and rests his hands on Merlin's hips, pulling him down harder, grinding their bodies together.
"S'good," he says, and Merlin rocks his hips just a little. "Come on. Yeah," he breathes, obviously pleased when Merlin reaches down to tweak one of his nipples before settling his hands on Arthur's chest and riding him in earnest.
His hands slip against the soft sheen of sweat on Arthur's skin and he digs his fingers into hard muscle for better purchase. Arthur arches underneath him, pressing up hard and fast, and Merlin's always amazed at the way he moves like this, at the way their bodies fall into quick, easy synchrony. Arthur's hands roam over as much of Merlin's body as he can reach, thumb rubbing hard against his hipbone, making him gasp and wriggle.
Merlin takes Arthur in again and again, relishing in the familiar press of Arthur inside him, deep, deep, where it almost hurts it's so good. Arthur fucks up into him and they move together, again and again. Merlin bites his lip hard, letting his head fall back, shifting his hips until he finds the perfect angle and holding himself there, driving them both mad.
"Now, Merlin," Arthur says suddenly, when his breath is catching and his eyes are dark with want. "Do it now."
"Oh, God," Merlin groans and he's just about to when Arthur makes an impatient noise and snatches up Merlin's wrist, pressing Merlin's hand to his throat. Merlin sucks in a ragged breath and his hand finds a natural position all too easily, thumb pressed to Arthur's hammering pulse, fingers spread from the corner of his jaw to the soft, hot skin at the base of his throat.
He catches Arthur's eye and Arthur nods once, just a small little movement, but there's such trust in it. Merlin nods and presses his hand harder against Arthur's throat, not even squeezing yet, but Arthur's eyes darken anyway and he falls still, his lips softly parted. Resolved not to make him ask for it again, Merlin works himself up the hard length of Arthur's dick and as he does he tightens his grip.
The breath Arthur was taking turns reedy, fragile and Merlin thinks, oh...oh. He loosens his grip as he impales himself again, and Arthur uses what breath he has to demand, "Again."
So Merlin does. Again and again, always waiting for that pinch to his leg which they agreed would mean enough, too much. It doesn't come. And Merlin feels, of all things, a little guilty for enjoying this quite so much. It was Arthur's request, Arthur's thing, and Merlin had been so hesitant but oh God, oh God, it's bliss. Because even as Arthur's face reddens he fixes that open, trusting look on Merlin and it feels like everything he ever wanted.
Merlin's close, really close, embarrassingly fast. He wants desperately to touch himself, finish it off in a bright starburst of pleasure. But his free hand has somehow found Arthur's, the one that isn't hovering on his thigh, waiting to end it. Their fingers are tightly tangled and Arthur's clinging, so fierce and sweet that Merlin can't bring himself to let go. It's not like he's never come just from the press of Arthur's cock inside him before, so he just rocks his hips harder on each downward thrust, keeping his grip on Arthur's throat for longer each time and watching, watching all the time, watching how Arthur goes progressively more still as if he wants to conserve what little air he's managing to gasp in.
When Merlin starts to lose it, going helpless and jerky above him, Arthur pulls his hand out of Merlin's grip and presses it against the one on his throat, holding it there. A little anxious and a lot turned on, Merlin lets himself hold tight, watching Arthur struggle for breath riding him hard to completion, white streaks painting Arthur's still chest. Arthur comes, gasping, when Merlin lifts his hand.
Afterwards when they're curled together, Merlin kisses Arthur's throat in mute, unsought apology. "How do you feel?" he asks.
"Dizzy," Arthur admits. His face splits into a broad smile and he adds, "Brilliant. And you..." He lifts Merlin's hand to his mouth, kisses his fingertips. "You loved it."
"Maybe," Merlin allows.
Arthur laughs and settles more comfortably into the pillows. "You know," he says, sounding much more like his usual smug self. "I'll expect considerably less fuss the next time I ask you to serve me this way."
Merlin should laugh. He really should, because Arthur will be impossible otherwise. Instinct takes over though, and he climbs on top of Arthur again, straddles his waist and bends down to kiss him.
"Yes, Sire."
Arthur groans and clutches at Merlin's back.
Round two might not be so far away.
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Breathplay PWP
Notes: Written for this prompt at the Merlin First Time Fest, reposting because I'm a nerd about having everything i the same place.
Warnings: Consensual breathplay (using hands)
Word Count: 1000
"Are you sure?" Merlin asks, for what feels like the fifteenth time.
"Merlin." Arthur, already rumpled and always gorgeous, twists his oiled fingers where they're pressing into Merlin's arse and says, "Ask me that one more time and I will tie you to that chair, and make you watch while I finish myself off. Slowly. Then, I'll send you back to your room."
Merlin rocks into Arthur's insistent explorations and grits out, "Understood."
Arthur smirks and pulls his fingers out, the teasing bastard. While Merlin rocks above him, cringing at the emptiness, Arthur reaches down to stroke himself.
"Come on," he says. "Take me."
The words have a whole other meaning when Merlin allows himself to think about what Arthur wants him to do next. Instead of lingering on the idea and probably turning tail to find a quiet corner in which to have a breakdown, like he had the first time Arthur mentioned it, Merlin lifts up higher on his knees, holding himself above Arthur's dick. Arthur teases him with it, running the head over his slick hole, working it inside only to let it pop straight out again.
"Arthur," Merlin complains, and Arthur relents.
"Take it slowly," he says, as though Merlin needs telling. He thinks Arthur enjoys watching it almost as much as Merlin enjoys the sensation of being filled slow and deep and inevitable. He squirms down against Arthur, down and down until their bodies are flush together. Arthur makes a satisfied noise and rests his hands on Merlin's hips, pulling him down harder, grinding their bodies together.
"S'good," he says, and Merlin rocks his hips just a little. "Come on. Yeah," he breathes, obviously pleased when Merlin reaches down to tweak one of his nipples before settling his hands on Arthur's chest and riding him in earnest.
His hands slip against the soft sheen of sweat on Arthur's skin and he digs his fingers into hard muscle for better purchase. Arthur arches underneath him, pressing up hard and fast, and Merlin's always amazed at the way he moves like this, at the way their bodies fall into quick, easy synchrony. Arthur's hands roam over as much of Merlin's body as he can reach, thumb rubbing hard against his hipbone, making him gasp and wriggle.
Merlin takes Arthur in again and again, relishing in the familiar press of Arthur inside him, deep, deep, where it almost hurts it's so good. Arthur fucks up into him and they move together, again and again. Merlin bites his lip hard, letting his head fall back, shifting his hips until he finds the perfect angle and holding himself there, driving them both mad.
"Now, Merlin," Arthur says suddenly, when his breath is catching and his eyes are dark with want. "Do it now."
"Oh, God," Merlin groans and he's just about to when Arthur makes an impatient noise and snatches up Merlin's wrist, pressing Merlin's hand to his throat. Merlin sucks in a ragged breath and his hand finds a natural position all too easily, thumb pressed to Arthur's hammering pulse, fingers spread from the corner of his jaw to the soft, hot skin at the base of his throat.
He catches Arthur's eye and Arthur nods once, just a small little movement, but there's such trust in it. Merlin nods and presses his hand harder against Arthur's throat, not even squeezing yet, but Arthur's eyes darken anyway and he falls still, his lips softly parted. Resolved not to make him ask for it again, Merlin works himself up the hard length of Arthur's dick and as he does he tightens his grip.
The breath Arthur was taking turns reedy, fragile and Merlin thinks, oh...oh. He loosens his grip as he impales himself again, and Arthur uses what breath he has to demand, "Again."
So Merlin does. Again and again, always waiting for that pinch to his leg which they agreed would mean enough, too much. It doesn't come. And Merlin feels, of all things, a little guilty for enjoying this quite so much. It was Arthur's request, Arthur's thing, and Merlin had been so hesitant but oh God, oh God, it's bliss. Because even as Arthur's face reddens he fixes that open, trusting look on Merlin and it feels like everything he ever wanted.
Merlin's close, really close, embarrassingly fast. He wants desperately to touch himself, finish it off in a bright starburst of pleasure. But his free hand has somehow found Arthur's, the one that isn't hovering on his thigh, waiting to end it. Their fingers are tightly tangled and Arthur's clinging, so fierce and sweet that Merlin can't bring himself to let go. It's not like he's never come just from the press of Arthur's cock inside him before, so he just rocks his hips harder on each downward thrust, keeping his grip on Arthur's throat for longer each time and watching, watching all the time, watching how Arthur goes progressively more still as if he wants to conserve what little air he's managing to gasp in.
When Merlin starts to lose it, going helpless and jerky above him, Arthur pulls his hand out of Merlin's grip and presses it against the one on his throat, holding it there. A little anxious and a lot turned on, Merlin lets himself hold tight, watching Arthur struggle for breath riding him hard to completion, white streaks painting Arthur's still chest. Arthur comes, gasping, when Merlin lifts his hand.
Afterwards when they're curled together, Merlin kisses Arthur's throat in mute, unsought apology. "How do you feel?" he asks.
"Dizzy," Arthur admits. His face splits into a broad smile and he adds, "Brilliant. And you..." He lifts Merlin's hand to his mouth, kisses his fingertips. "You loved it."
"Maybe," Merlin allows.
Arthur laughs and settles more comfortably into the pillows. "You know," he says, sounding much more like his usual smug self. "I'll expect considerably less fuss the next time I ask you to serve me this way."
Merlin should laugh. He really should, because Arthur will be impossible otherwise. Instinct takes over though, and he climbs on top of Arthur again, straddles his waist and bends down to kiss him.
"Yes, Sire."
Arthur groans and clutches at Merlin's back.
Round two might not be so far away.