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Merlin/Arthur, jealous!Arthur and vocal!Merlin - written for Alyssa
The morning and afternoon had been spent in endless meetings with his council. Arthur had barely had time for lunch. He’d been sitting on his arse all day, arguing with Agravaine and Gaius over the best strategy for combating Morgana’s most recent attack against their troops. Arthur was tired, grumpy, and his muscles were tense from disuse. There hadn’t even been time for him to run through drills with his knights that morning. He felt wound up, as though the slightest thing might set him off. The day had been altogether unsatisfying; the only highlight had been waking up with Merlin next to him in bed. Arthur had pulled him in close, kissed him, worked him open slowly. It was lazy, a quiet fuck in the early hours of the morning. Afterwards, Merlin smiled and climbed out of the bed, slowly as if with great effort. Arthur knew the feeling; he hadn’t wanted Merlin to leave, and he hadn’t seen him all day since.
Now the meetings were finally over, and Arthur was looking forward to dinner in his chambers. With Merlin. Alone. Maybe after Merlin finished serving him, Arthur could pull him into his lap and feed him from his fingers. Or maybe after dinner Merlin could draw a bath. Arthur was convinced his tub was large enough to accommodate both men; he just hadn’t had an opportunity to try it out yet.
Arthur exited the throne room and began heading toward his quarters. The rhythmic click of his boot heels on the floor lulled Arthur into a trance of sorts. He barely noticed that his feet had carried him most of the way to his rooms. He only realised where he was when the sound of laughter in the next hallway snapped him out of his daze. Arthur shook his head to clear his thoughts and turned the corner. The sight that met him was unexpected, to say the least.
The first thing Arthur noticed was Merlin’s bright red neckerchief. The color drew his eye in to the scene, but it also meant that Arthur was quickly able to see that someone, who was decidedly not Arthur, had the neckerchief gripped in his hand. That person was fiddling with the ties just behind Merlin’s head, running the loose ends of the knot through his fingers. Something in Arthur’s chest tightened, his stomach churned. It was Gwaine; even if he couldn’t see his face, Arthur would recognize that long hair anywhere. Gwaine was standing close enough to Merlin that his arm was around Merlin’s shoulders. Arthur couldn’t hear what he was saying, but whatever it was was making Merlin laugh. The kind of full-bodied laughter that made Merlin’s face light up, where his eyes crinkled around the edges, when he’d bring those elegant hands to hold his stomach. It was usually Arthur making him laugh like that.
Then Gwaine’s hand moved to brush against Merlin’s cheek and Arthur saw red. The edges of his vision blurred and he was stomping across the room, hand clamping around Merlin’s upper arm. Merlin turned his head to look at him, still smiling but the light in his eyes being replaced by something else. Worry? Concern? Arthur didn’t care. He looked over at Gwaine and glared.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked. Arthur couldn’t look at him. He was struggling to school his features, to refrain from dragging Merlin through the hallways and throwing him down onto the bed. That or pulling out his sword and running Gwaine through, because dammit, didn’t Gwaine know that Merlin was Arthur’s to touch, to make smile, to flirt with?
Gwaine laughed nervously. “Everything all right, princess?” And the answer of course was no. Because Gwaine didn’t know about Arthur and Merlin. Gwaine couldn’t know that making Merlin smile like that set something off deep in Arthur’s soul because fuck Merlin was his in a way Arthur couldn’t even begin to explain. But Gwaine didn’t know that.
He let go of Merlin’s arm, the stiffness in his knuckles letting him know that he had been gripping Merlin’s arm too tightly. Merlin made no comment. He just continued to look concerned.
“I’m fine. I just wanted to remind Merlin here that he has no time to be slacking in his duties when I am expecting dinner.” Arthur felt like squirming under Merlin’s look. He tried not to fidget. Gwaine was watching the two of them, his gaze flicking back and forth between Arthur and Merlin. He opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur cut him off. “If Merlin can’t manage to do his job, then I will have to find a new servant to take his place. And Gwaine, aren’t you scheduled for wall patrol this evening?”
Arthur turned on his heel and left the two of them standing in the hallway. Behind him, he vaguely heard their voices, Merlin’s tone was placating. Arthur couldn’t hear any of the details; the sounds of Camelot were muted around him. All Arthur knew was that he wanted to be alone in the silence of his chambers where he could forget about Gwaine holding Merlin, Gwaine leaning in to touch his cheek, Gwaine making him laugh and smile and flirting in public when Arthur had to be the responsible king and not give people reasons to doubt his right to rule.
Reaching his quarters, Arthur threw the door open with a shove and slammed them behind. There was a flagon on the table. Not bothering to pour himself a glass, Arthur grabbed it and, without discovering its contents, drank deeply. Luckily, it was only water and not ale or wine that had been sitting out since last night. Some of the water dribbled out of Arthur’s mouth and down his chin. The door opened behind Arthur but he didn’t turn around.
“Arthur?” Merlin asked, his question an echo of the one from the hallway. Arthur pulled the flagon away from his lips, his chest heaving as he took in breath. “Arthur, what’s wrong? What happened? Was it the council? Did something new happen with Morgana?”
“No,” Arthur said as he slammed the flagon onto the table. It hit the thick wooden table with a thud. Behind him, Merlin jumped. “No,” Arthur said more softly.
“Was it Gwaine? Because there’s nothing there.” Arthur heard Merlin’s footsteps, soft upon the stone floor. Arthur tensed unexpectedly when he felt Merlin’s hand on his shoulder. Merlin moved his hand away quickly. “Really. There’s nothing between me and Gwaine. He was just talking to me. You know how he is.”
Arthur knew. That was the thing; he knew that Gwaine was an easy flirt, that his smiles and touches meant almost nothing. But he could say it all in public, he didn’t have to hide. And maybe Merlin wanted that. He had seen the way Merlin looked out there, all glowy and happy not to be hiding some secret relationship. Arthur clenched his hands into fists. He wanted to hit something, all of the pent up energy from a day sitting in council combined with the fit of jealousy threatened to explode. He felt himself shaking.
Merlin came to stand behind him. Arthur felt him wrap his arms about his waist and press a kiss to the back of his neck. Arthur growled. Something deep within him wanted to claim, to mark, Merlin as his own right now. Something feral. That something drove Arthur to turn around, to grab Merlin at his hips and push him backwards against the table. He kissed Merlin then, sliding his hands under Merlin’s jacket so that he could pull it off. Merlin shrugged out of it and Arthur dumped it somewhere on the ground nearby.
Moving his lips to bite a mark into Merlin’s neck, Arthur moved his hands up Merlin’s sides. He placed at the base of Merlin’s spine and slid the other up Merlin’s chest. He pinched Merlin’s nipple as he sucked on his collarbone. The other man moaned and tangled his hands in Arthur’s hair. “Uhhhh. Arthur.”
Arthur pressed one last kiss to Merlin’s lips before turning him around. Merlin leaned forward over the table, bracing himself with his arms extended, palms flat. Merlin rolled his hips back, pressing his arse against Arthur’s quickly hardening cock. He wanted to fuck Merlin right there and now. He wanted to take him apart there on the table and leave little bruises on his hips and neck, little reminders that Merlin was Arthur’s. Arthur slid his hand up under Merlin’s shirt, pressing down not so gently along his spine. Merlin arched his back under the touch.
Arthur pushed Merlin’s shirt up, exposing more of his skin. He bent over, biting along Merlin’s spine, as his hands snaked around. He palmed Merlin’s crotch, felt the other man thrust forward and heard him moan. Arthur smiled and laughed. His hot breath bounced off of Merlin’s skin, and Arthur inhaled the stale air once more as he continued to press kisses along Merlin’s back. He fumbled with with the laces on Merlin’s trousers, loosening them just enough that he could shove them down around his ankles. Arthur wedged a knee in between Merlin’s legs to spread them further. He rubbed his hand along the cleft of his ass and dipped a finger down to tease Merlin’s hole. It was still slick from this morning’s activities, and Arthur found it easy to slide his index finger in all the way to the second knuckle in one smooth push.
“Wait, wait.” Merlin sounded out of breath. Arthur paused, waiting, expecting Merlin to say something more. Several beats passed with Merlin saying nothing. Tangling his free hand in Merlin’s hair, pulling his head backward, Arthur leaned forward over Merlin’s back. He twisted his finger inside of Merlin, not to loosen him up--he was already loose--but because Arthur wanted one more level on which to touch Merlin.
“Tell me to stop,” Arthur said, sliding a second finger in to join the first. Merlin groaned. Athur’s lips brushed over Merlin’s ear. “Tell me you want me to stop and I will.”
Merlin made a sound deep in his throat; Arthur could feel the vibrations shaking down his lover’s body where his chest pressed to Merlin’s back. He nipped at the top of Merlin’s ear and scissored his fingers inside of Merlin.
“Oh, fuck, Arthur. Don’t--” Merlin gasped, interrupted, as Arthur pressed his two fingers down, curling them around that spot. Merlin arched his back and his thighs shivered. “Fuck. Don’t, uh, don’t you dare stop.”
Grinning, Arthur slid his fingers out of Merlin’s arse. He let go of his grip on Merlin’s hair and stood upright. He looked at the sight in front of him: Merlin splayed out on the table, legs strewn wide and shirt rucked up around his armpits, his pants pooled at his feet. Arthur gripped his cock at the base, stroked it a few times, squeezed. He could come right there and then, he knew. Just jerk himself off and watch the semen paint Merlin’s back. He stroked himself once, twice more. It was so tempting.
Merlin turned his head around to glare at Arthur. “I swear to God, if you don’t start fucking me right now, you will be eating rat stew for the next three weeks.”
“You can’t do that to me.” Arthur laughed. He teased along the cleft of Merlin’s arse with the tip of his cock, running it in circles around hole. Merlin pushed back against Arthur. “I’m the king.”
“You’re a prat is what you-” Merlin’s words were cut off as Arthur’s cock slid past the first ring of muscle. Merlin groaned and leaned further onto the table. He was tight, even though he had been fucked once already today. Arthur pushed in slowly, both to keep from hurting Merlin and to stop himself from coming right there from the pressure. Once he was sheathed completely, his pelvis flush against Merlin’s arse, Arthur paused, letting them both adjust. Merlin was breathing heavily, whispering something under his breath. Arthur was about to ask him if he was all right, when he felt Merlin’s muscles clench around him.
“Move, Arthur.” Merlin clenched again. “Just fucking move.”
He needed no more invitation than that. Arthur pulled out so that only the tip of his cock remained inside Merlin; then he thrust in all in one smooth motion. Merlin’s body rocked forward with the force of it, and he moaned, “God, yes.”
Arthur gripped Merlin’s hips, thumbs pressing in as he held tight. He pulled out, thrust in, angling down this time so that he hit that spot Merlin liked. Merlin’s thighs shook as he struggled to hold himself in place, just letting Arthur fuck into him. The slap of Arthur’s thighs hitting Merlin’s sounded throughout the stone chamber, but it wasn’t as loud as the moans and other words spilling from Merlin’s mouth.
“Oh, fuck, just. There, Arthur. Fuck fuck, yes.” Arthur felt himself growing close. He liked the way Merlin’s voice went deep, husky, at times like this. It made Arthur feel powerful, primal, that he reduced Merlin to such incoherent litanies. Arthur reached around and fisted Merlin’s cock. He felt Merlin’s body grow tense underneath him as he began to stroke him off. “Arthur, I- unh, shit, unh, Arthurarthurarthur.”
And then Merlin was clenching around him and coming all over Arthur’s hand. Arthur continued to stroke him off through his orgasm, kept thrusting into him as Merlin’s arse tightened around his cock until it was too much for Arthur and he felt himself spurting into Merlin. Merlin was shaking and still murmuring Arthur’s name under his breath. Arthur’s arms and thighs shook as he came inside of Merlin, felt the orgasm hit him like a lance during a joust.
Arthur collapsed on top of Merlin, his head resting on Merlin’s back between his shoulder blades. He could tell by the way Merlin’s breath was coming into his chest and the way his arms shivered that he, too, was struggling to hold himself up. Arthur knew that he should pull out, stand up and move elsewhere, take his weight off of Merlin. But he couldn’t make himself do it. Not just yet. His hand was still on Merlin’s cock, now limp, and he gave it a soft tug, then trailed his fingers along it. Merlin cried out. He was oversensitive now; they both were. But Arthur didn’t want to let go just yet.
He pressed a kiss to the nape of Merlin’s neck. Merlin hummed and turned his head to look over his shoulder at Arthur. His face was flushed, lips red from where he had likely bitten them. Arthur met his eyes and bit into his shoulder, sucked yet another mark into him. There was something in Merlin’s eyes that he couldn’t quite read, like Merlin was looking into him, through him just then. Arthur moved his mouth away from Merlin’s skin slowly and then pulled out of him. Merlin’s lips parted as though he was about to speak, but Arthur spoke first.
“Come here,” he reached out for Merlin’s hand, felt it warm against his and pulled him in for a kiss. Merlin wrapped his arms about Arthur’s neck, kissed him. He was smiling; Arthur could feel the curve of his lips when they kissed. Arthur didn’t know why Merlin was smiling, but he wasn’t sure he really cared. Not when Merlin was pressed against him like this, smelling of sex and Arthur. Not when he had bruises on his hips from Arthur’s hands or marks from his mouth along his neck. Not when he was here in Arthur’s arms and showing no signs of leaving at all.