fic: Sharing Secrets (1/1)
Oct. 4th, 2011 09:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
leashy_bebesTitle: Sharing Secrets
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC17
Summary: The boys are sharing a room (oh, okay, and a bed most nights) at uni. Arthur's having some much needed alone time and Merlin walks in on something he really doesn't expect to see.
Warnings: Pretty mild (initially self-)bondage.
Word Count: ~1900
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing
When Merlin leaves their room in the morning he blows a kiss over his shoulder at Arthur. It should be ridiculous. It is ridiculous, but that doesn't explain why Arthur just grins at him instead of scoffing in disgust at his soppy behaviour. Still, he can't quite smooth the grin off his face once Merlin is gone. The warm happiness mingles with the fizzing excitement that's been building since he decided yes, yes, today, I've waited long enough.
Arthur gives it ten minutes (long enough for Merlin to get to the library) and then another ten (long enough for him to get settled with a crap coffee from the vending machine). He's still thinking of Merlin – the sharp line of his neck as he bends over a textbook, the slight frown on his face as he scribbles something down – as he gets up and locks the door. Excitement already building in his throat, Arthur ducks into the postage stamp of a bathroom and, hands already a little clumsy, pulls the cord from his bathrobe.
It's made from dark blue towelling and Arthur kind of hates himself a little for thinking that it's the colour Merlin's eyes goes when he's so turned on he can hardly control himself. They've been fucking for a few weeks now, since – well, since they decided they could stand each other's company after all. So it's only natural that Arthur's mind turns to Merlin when he thinks about sex these days. It's got nothing to do with the – other stuff, he thinks as he shucks his clothes. The big, nameless stuff that Arthur barely understands.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Arthur binds the cord around the leg of the desk, wrapping it around a few times and pulling it tight. He loops the free end around his wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and easily using his teeth and free hand to pull the knot tight. The material is rough enough that it'll probably leave faint red marks on the inside of his wrist. Part of him wonders what might happen if Merlin notices. Merlin doesn't seem like the paranoid type, but maybe the jump-to-conclusions type. Arthur can imagine quite a lot of awkward explaining in his future, but fuck it. It's not like a few weeks is long enough to ask Merlin, hey, I don't suppose you'd like to tie me down and fuck me senseless? And well, Arthur's never actually done this with another person. It seems like a big step.
If he was more confident of both his privacy and the sturdiness of the standard dorm-issue desk, Arthur would take his time, do it like he does at home. He'd shove his free hand under the pillow and pretend that was bound too. He'd stay there like that for a long time, feeling himself harden into arousal and beyond, right into desperation. He'd tug on the cord (except it would be rope because when you live in a house and not a room, there's sensible, non-incriminating places to keep stuff like that) and test it properly, maybe tie his ankles together too. When he finally brought himself off it would be fast, eyes squeezed tight shut, trying to maintain the illusion it was someone else's hand.
Now though, he's not sure how long he has. The door's locked from the inside and can't be opened from outside even with a key, but the idea of someone pounding at the door while he's trying to get off really doesn't do it for Arthur. Even if Merlin sticks to his word and stays in the library all day, there's no telling who else might take it upon themselves to drop by. So Arthur doesn't indulge himself much, going straight for his dick, one long lingering stroke before he settles into a rhythm. Even though he privately thinks the desk might have been made out of driftwood or matchsticks or some fucking thing, he can't help pulling on the cord. He's always loved the way the air seems to drop out of his lungs when he tries to move and finds he can't.
Arthur turns his face into his outstretched shoulder and muffles a moan, hips arching up to meet his hand. His fingers feels hot and dry around his cock so he lifts his hand to his mouth and spits. That's better – a whole lot better – and he can't resist testing the desk a little, pulling on the cord until it aches in his wrist. He still remembers the first time he ever did this, how he'd never come better, never felt shivery aftershocks rattle through him for so long after. It's still like that. It always makes him feel giddy and a bit wild, like his blood is closer to the surface than usual.
He's just getting into it when – fuck it all happens so fast, way too fast for him to do anything about it. He barely even notices the noise at the door, too caught up in fucking the tight circle of his fist. Even if he had noticed, he fucking locked the door. He is vigilant to the point of paranoia when it comes to locking doors, so even if he had registered that first thud he probably wouldn't have been overly concerned. But then, before he can even think oh shit, the door swings open.
The sight of Merlin going wide-eyed and open-mouthed as he hastens through the door and shuts it behind him, along with the sick, rolling pitch of anxiety in his guts are a combination Arthur's pretty sure he's never going to forget.
"Oh!" Merlin says, getting tangled up in his headphones as he tries to rip them from his ears. "Jesus! Um. Wow."
Arthur squawks, grabbing for the sheets but okay, covering up his dick does precisely nothing about the fact that he's tied his own fucking wrist to the desk with his dressing gown cord. Arthur sits up, wrenches his arm, leans halfway back again and says, "Shit, fuck!"
"Uh – "
"I locked that door!" Arthur bursts out, because it's easier to get angry than fucking die of humiliation.
"Yeah, it, um – opens if you, um. If you hit it," Merlin says. "Just under the door handle, next to the frame and – "
Arthur does not want a bloody reasonable explanation. "You're supposed to be in the library," he says indignantly, trying in vain to undo the knot around his wrist. It's the same fucking knot he uses every time but Merlin is staring at him, and Arthur's hands might be shaking just a bit.
"No computers free," Merlin says, sounding dazed. "And I forgot my laptop. Um. What are you doing?"
"Seriously? What does it look like, you idiot?"
Merlin licks a sudden sheen of sweat off his upper lip and looks at where Arthur is scrabbling furiously to undo the knot.
"Don't," he says, and Arthur freezes, looking at Merlin sharply. "Uh. I mean – don't?" Merlin repeats, making it sound like a question this time.
Arthur draws his hand back from the knot and wets his lips carefully. The air in the room seems to crystallise into something sharp and dangerous as he looks at Merlin.
"You – "
"That's um – "
They speak at the same time but Arthur glares and overrides him with "Don't take the piss."
"I'm not," Merlin says. "I wouldn't." Which is just a fucking lie. "Not about this. It's, um – "
"You said that already," Arthur points out, his anxiety fading a notch. Still, he feels like he's waiting on a precipice as he watches Merlin.
Merlin's still clutching that ridiculous school satchel, staring like Arthur has grown an extra head. He's just kind of gaping and in spite of his obvious curiosity he seems frozen. If he doesn't come down one way or the other soon, Arthur is just going to fucking – chew through the knot if he has to. This is probably the least dignified position Arthur's ever been in – which, seeing as he grew up with Morgana, is really saying something – and Arthur's big on dignity, no matter how difficult Merlin sometimes makes that.
The atmosphere of confusion and hesitation seems so shift in a heartbeat. Before Arthur's really processed the flash of want across Merlin's face and in his eyes, Merlin's tugging at his clothes, getting caught up in his t-shirt and all but staggering across the room. He drops to his knees next to the bed with a thud that sounds painful.
"Holy fuck," he says, catching hold of Arthur's unbound hand and stroking gently with his thumb. "This – holy fuck, Arthur, you're unbelievable."
Arthur's still not completely sure he isn't being mocked. What makes up his mind is when Merlin's grip on his wrist tightens, not to the point of pain, but not far off it either. He presses Arthur's hand down onto the pillow and while panic apparently doesn't do wonders for Arthur's ability to sustain an erection, this is evidently all it takes to have him raring to go again. He shifts his hand slightly in Merlin's grip and stammers out the other boy's name.
Merlin looks like his grasp on reality is wobbly at best right now, and he licks his lips, fingers hot around Arthur's wrist.
"Is this what you want? I could – " Merlin swallows like he can't believe he's about to say it. "I could tie you down properly." The next words seem to stick in his throat and only emerge as a fractured whisper. "Ride you."
And that's it. How is Arthur meant to withstand that? He breaks Merlin's hold on him and reaches for his aching cock. Before he can get there Merlin snatches up his hand and slams it back down to the bed.
"Shit, no," Merlin says, "Okay, let me – "
Merlin's hand on his dick makes it comfortably into the top three of Arthur's favourite sensations list, even when it's half-asleep three-in-the-morning hand jobs and now... Arthur's right arm aches from pulling on the belt that's tethering him to the desk, while his left hand makes claws in the air under Merlin's grip. Merlin doesn't get off much more than half a dozen strokes before Arthur's coming, arching up against him.
"Fuck. Fuck – " he cries out.
Merlin whimpers (fucking whimpers, just what exactly is he trying to do to Arthur?), "Ohgodohgod – " and then climbs on top of Arthur, worn denim dragging over Arthur's over-sensitised skin. Merlin's all but sobbing into Arthur's mouth as his hips twitch and shiver against Arthur's thigh.
Arthur's untied hand feels clumsy from being held down but he takes a soft hold of Merlin's hair, cupping the back of his skull as he shudders, coming apart and doubtlessly ruining a perfectly good pair of boxers. When he starts feeling sticky and uncomfortable Arthur pushes gently at Merlin's shoulders and he rolls away, still breathing hard.
"That – " Merlin says, his hand reaching up to Arthur's bound wrist, one long finger worming its way in between the cord and Arthur's wrist, brushing over his skin. "You are full of surprises, Arthur Pendragon."
As Merlin unties him, Arthur grins up at the ceiling and decides that sharing secrets with Merlin is going to be brilliant.
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Rating: NC17
Summary: The boys are sharing a room (oh, okay, and a bed most nights) at uni. Arthur's having some much needed alone time and Merlin walks in on something he really doesn't expect to see.
Warnings: Pretty mild (initially self-)bondage.
Word Count: ~1900
Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing
When Merlin leaves their room in the morning he blows a kiss over his shoulder at Arthur. It should be ridiculous. It is ridiculous, but that doesn't explain why Arthur just grins at him instead of scoffing in disgust at his soppy behaviour. Still, he can't quite smooth the grin off his face once Merlin is gone. The warm happiness mingles with the fizzing excitement that's been building since he decided yes, yes, today, I've waited long enough.
Arthur gives it ten minutes (long enough for Merlin to get to the library) and then another ten (long enough for him to get settled with a crap coffee from the vending machine). He's still thinking of Merlin – the sharp line of his neck as he bends over a textbook, the slight frown on his face as he scribbles something down – as he gets up and locks the door. Excitement already building in his throat, Arthur ducks into the postage stamp of a bathroom and, hands already a little clumsy, pulls the cord from his bathrobe.
It's made from dark blue towelling and Arthur kind of hates himself a little for thinking that it's the colour Merlin's eyes goes when he's so turned on he can hardly control himself. They've been fucking for a few weeks now, since – well, since they decided they could stand each other's company after all. So it's only natural that Arthur's mind turns to Merlin when he thinks about sex these days. It's got nothing to do with the – other stuff, he thinks as he shucks his clothes. The big, nameless stuff that Arthur barely understands.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Arthur binds the cord around the leg of the desk, wrapping it around a few times and pulling it tight. He loops the free end around his wrist, bringing it up to his mouth and easily using his teeth and free hand to pull the knot tight. The material is rough enough that it'll probably leave faint red marks on the inside of his wrist. Part of him wonders what might happen if Merlin notices. Merlin doesn't seem like the paranoid type, but maybe the jump-to-conclusions type. Arthur can imagine quite a lot of awkward explaining in his future, but fuck it. It's not like a few weeks is long enough to ask Merlin, hey, I don't suppose you'd like to tie me down and fuck me senseless? And well, Arthur's never actually done this with another person. It seems like a big step.
If he was more confident of both his privacy and the sturdiness of the standard dorm-issue desk, Arthur would take his time, do it like he does at home. He'd shove his free hand under the pillow and pretend that was bound too. He'd stay there like that for a long time, feeling himself harden into arousal and beyond, right into desperation. He'd tug on the cord (except it would be rope because when you live in a house and not a room, there's sensible, non-incriminating places to keep stuff like that) and test it properly, maybe tie his ankles together too. When he finally brought himself off it would be fast, eyes squeezed tight shut, trying to maintain the illusion it was someone else's hand.
Now though, he's not sure how long he has. The door's locked from the inside and can't be opened from outside even with a key, but the idea of someone pounding at the door while he's trying to get off really doesn't do it for Arthur. Even if Merlin sticks to his word and stays in the library all day, there's no telling who else might take it upon themselves to drop by. So Arthur doesn't indulge himself much, going straight for his dick, one long lingering stroke before he settles into a rhythm. Even though he privately thinks the desk might have been made out of driftwood or matchsticks or some fucking thing, he can't help pulling on the cord. He's always loved the way the air seems to drop out of his lungs when he tries to move and finds he can't.
Arthur turns his face into his outstretched shoulder and muffles a moan, hips arching up to meet his hand. His fingers feels hot and dry around his cock so he lifts his hand to his mouth and spits. That's better – a whole lot better – and he can't resist testing the desk a little, pulling on the cord until it aches in his wrist. He still remembers the first time he ever did this, how he'd never come better, never felt shivery aftershocks rattle through him for so long after. It's still like that. It always makes him feel giddy and a bit wild, like his blood is closer to the surface than usual.
He's just getting into it when – fuck it all happens so fast, way too fast for him to do anything about it. He barely even notices the noise at the door, too caught up in fucking the tight circle of his fist. Even if he had noticed, he fucking locked the door. He is vigilant to the point of paranoia when it comes to locking doors, so even if he had registered that first thud he probably wouldn't have been overly concerned. But then, before he can even think oh shit, the door swings open.
The sight of Merlin going wide-eyed and open-mouthed as he hastens through the door and shuts it behind him, along with the sick, rolling pitch of anxiety in his guts are a combination Arthur's pretty sure he's never going to forget.
"Oh!" Merlin says, getting tangled up in his headphones as he tries to rip them from his ears. "Jesus! Um. Wow."
Arthur squawks, grabbing for the sheets but okay, covering up his dick does precisely nothing about the fact that he's tied his own fucking wrist to the desk with his dressing gown cord. Arthur sits up, wrenches his arm, leans halfway back again and says, "Shit, fuck!"
"Uh – "
"I locked that door!" Arthur bursts out, because it's easier to get angry than fucking die of humiliation.
"Yeah, it, um – opens if you, um. If you hit it," Merlin says. "Just under the door handle, next to the frame and – "
Arthur does not want a bloody reasonable explanation. "You're supposed to be in the library," he says indignantly, trying in vain to undo the knot around his wrist. It's the same fucking knot he uses every time but Merlin is staring at him, and Arthur's hands might be shaking just a bit.
"No computers free," Merlin says, sounding dazed. "And I forgot my laptop. Um. What are you doing?"
"Seriously? What does it look like, you idiot?"
Merlin licks a sudden sheen of sweat off his upper lip and looks at where Arthur is scrabbling furiously to undo the knot.
"Don't," he says, and Arthur freezes, looking at Merlin sharply. "Uh. I mean – don't?" Merlin repeats, making it sound like a question this time.
Arthur draws his hand back from the knot and wets his lips carefully. The air in the room seems to crystallise into something sharp and dangerous as he looks at Merlin.
"You – "
"That's um – "
They speak at the same time but Arthur glares and overrides him with "Don't take the piss."
"I'm not," Merlin says. "I wouldn't." Which is just a fucking lie. "Not about this. It's, um – "
"You said that already," Arthur points out, his anxiety fading a notch. Still, he feels like he's waiting on a precipice as he watches Merlin.
Merlin's still clutching that ridiculous school satchel, staring like Arthur has grown an extra head. He's just kind of gaping and in spite of his obvious curiosity he seems frozen. If he doesn't come down one way or the other soon, Arthur is just going to fucking – chew through the knot if he has to. This is probably the least dignified position Arthur's ever been in – which, seeing as he grew up with Morgana, is really saying something – and Arthur's big on dignity, no matter how difficult Merlin sometimes makes that.
The atmosphere of confusion and hesitation seems so shift in a heartbeat. Before Arthur's really processed the flash of want across Merlin's face and in his eyes, Merlin's tugging at his clothes, getting caught up in his t-shirt and all but staggering across the room. He drops to his knees next to the bed with a thud that sounds painful.
"Holy fuck," he says, catching hold of Arthur's unbound hand and stroking gently with his thumb. "This – holy fuck, Arthur, you're unbelievable."
Arthur's still not completely sure he isn't being mocked. What makes up his mind is when Merlin's grip on his wrist tightens, not to the point of pain, but not far off it either. He presses Arthur's hand down onto the pillow and while panic apparently doesn't do wonders for Arthur's ability to sustain an erection, this is evidently all it takes to have him raring to go again. He shifts his hand slightly in Merlin's grip and stammers out the other boy's name.
Merlin looks like his grasp on reality is wobbly at best right now, and he licks his lips, fingers hot around Arthur's wrist.
"Is this what you want? I could – " Merlin swallows like he can't believe he's about to say it. "I could tie you down properly." The next words seem to stick in his throat and only emerge as a fractured whisper. "Ride you."
And that's it. How is Arthur meant to withstand that? He breaks Merlin's hold on him and reaches for his aching cock. Before he can get there Merlin snatches up his hand and slams it back down to the bed.
"Shit, no," Merlin says, "Okay, let me – "
Merlin's hand on his dick makes it comfortably into the top three of Arthur's favourite sensations list, even when it's half-asleep three-in-the-morning hand jobs and now... Arthur's right arm aches from pulling on the belt that's tethering him to the desk, while his left hand makes claws in the air under Merlin's grip. Merlin doesn't get off much more than half a dozen strokes before Arthur's coming, arching up against him.
"Fuck. Fuck – " he cries out.
Merlin whimpers (fucking whimpers, just what exactly is he trying to do to Arthur?), "Ohgodohgod – " and then climbs on top of Arthur, worn denim dragging over Arthur's over-sensitised skin. Merlin's all but sobbing into Arthur's mouth as his hips twitch and shiver against Arthur's thigh.
Arthur's untied hand feels clumsy from being held down but he takes a soft hold of Merlin's hair, cupping the back of his skull as he shudders, coming apart and doubtlessly ruining a perfectly good pair of boxers. When he starts feeling sticky and uncomfortable Arthur pushes gently at Merlin's shoulders and he rolls away, still breathing hard.
"That – " Merlin says, his hand reaching up to Arthur's bound wrist, one long finger worming its way in between the cord and Arthur's wrist, brushing over his skin. "You are full of surprises, Arthur Pendragon."
As Merlin unties him, Arthur grins up at the ceiling and decides that sharing secrets with Merlin is going to be brilliant.