Work Text:
•••
The club is stuffy, suffocating, the air heavy with the smell of alcohol and cheap perfume. There are bodies writhing together on the dance floor, moving in and out of sync to the music with that desperate edge of arousal. The bass pulses through Merlin's body, a throb in his temples, a second beat alongside his heart. He squeezes his eyes shut against the neon lights and downs the rest of his drink. It does little to cool him off, but the ensuing buzz is tingly and pleasant.
Merlin checks the time on his mobile before he pockets it, taking one last glance at the door before disappearing into the crowd.
•••
He counts the minutes in his head, bides his time and waits. It isn't easy. The sensible part of him is screaming what the hell are you doing?, but the alcohol in his system makes him feel bold and daring. Just a little bit reckless.
Merlin weaves in and out of the crowd, stopping to dance until someone hooks their fingers in his belt loops and presses close to him. A hand slips under his shirt and that's when Merlin breaks away with an easy twist of his body, smile kind but gaze unfriendly.
Another minute, he tells himself, he'll wait one more minute before—
The door finally opens.
Merlin doesn't recognize him at first, confused as to why Percival would let someone enter wearing a black cap and sweatshirt with the hood pulled up. The cap is pulled down low over his eyes, but then he slowly looks up, locking eyes with Merlin from across the room.
Arthur.
Someone else tries to reach for him, but he spins away just in time. When he looks back at Arthur, his jaw is clenched, eyes hard, forbidding. Merlin flashes him a smirk and beckons him over with a tilt of his head before slipping back into the crowd. He slides past body after body, winding his way to the opposite side of the dance floor, a comfortable distance away from the booming speakers. The air is less saturated and just a little bit cooler here, enough for Merlin's dress shirt to stop sticking uncomfortably to his back.
Then there is a hand sliding down his arm and fingers encircling his wrist, a thumb coming to rest on the inside of it, just over his racing pulse. His body relaxes instinctively, leaning back and into that too familiar touch, sense memory kicking in and taking over before his mind has a chance to catch up.
Lips skim over his temple, the shell of his ear, and then: "Gotcha."
Merlin smiles, slow and indulgent.
The music changes, going from loud and bombastic to low and heavy. Merlin pulls free of the grip on his wrist and turns around, looping both his arms around Arthur's neck and pressing in close. The lights have dimmed to deep hues of blue and red, the shadows settling into the exasperated lines on Arthur's face. He looks annoyed even as he wraps his arms around Merlin's waist and holds him there.
Merlin presses a kiss to his jaw, then his cheek, enjoying the rough scrape of stubble against his skin. Arthur hardly goes more than a day or two without shaving, preferring to stay clean-cut for his lectures, but when he does, Merlin is crazy about it.
"Why're you dressed like that?" he mumbles. "Worried one of your students might recognize you?"
Arthur ignores him. "What are you doing here, Merlin?" he hisses.
Merlin smiles at him cheekily. "Having fuuun."
"You hate clubs, remember? They make you anxious."
Merlin unzips Arthur's hoodie, getting his hands on the thin t-shirt underneath it. He runs his palms over Arthur's broad chest appreciatively, the muscles taut and strong.
"Oh, but alcohol does wonders," Merlin sighs, sliding one leg between each of Arthur's and grinding down.
"How much did you have to drink?" Arthur's voice sounds just a little bit strained now.
Merlin noses along his jaw, tells him, "Just a drink or two," in a singsong voice and pushes their hips together.
"I think it's about time we—"
"Your legs look phenomenal in those jeans."
It takes Merlin a long second to realize that the comment was directed at him. Moment shattered, he pulls back just enough to get a good look at the guy and notices he's the same one from before, who had grabbed him while he'd been dancing. His eyes trail up and down Merlin's body hungrily, giving him a long one-over. Merlin doesn't miss the way Arthur's arms tighten around his waist.
Before Merlin can muster up a response, though, he glances at Arthur. "Mind if I cut in, mate?"
Arthur lets out a short laugh, then smiles tightly. Merlin can see it, the anger and jealousy all twisted together. He slips his hands underneath Merlin's shirt, fingers digging into his skin, and just that point of contact is electric. Merlin had been immensely turned on before, but now he hardens completely. Just knowing that Arthur can feel his erection against his leg makes him bite back a sound.
"Yeah," Arthur rasps, glaring. "Yeah, I would mind, actually."
The guy snorts, unfazed. "Who the fuck d'you think you are, anyway?"
Arthur bares his teeth when he grits out, "I'm his boyfriend."
For a second his face blanches, but then he recovers, looking between the two of them. His gaze settles on Merlin again, clearly noticing the way he has wound himself around Arthur's body. Arthur narrows his eyes dangerously, jaw clenched so tight that a muscle is ticking.
"You are one lucky bastard."
At that, Arthur just smirks, looking smug. "The luckiest," he agrees.
Obviously disappointed, the guy slinks off. It's not a second later that Arthur wedges his leg more tightly between each of Merlin's and rubs his thigh against his erection, intent clear. His hands are insistent, possessive where they dig into Merlin's skin.
"We're leaving," Arthur says roughly.
"Do we have to?" Merlin whines.
Arthur settles his hands on his hips, guiding them this way then that way, in time to the beat of whatever Bastille song is playing. Merlin lets out a ragged exhale, eyelids fluttering, and curls his fingers into Arthur's t-shirt. The friction is rough and delicious, and he craves more of it.
"You don't understand the effect you have on people, do you?" Arthur asks, a hot puff of breath on his cheek.
Merlin smiles, coy. "God, you're sexy when you're jealous."
Arthur trails his lips up Merlin’s jaw to his ear, then takes the shell between his teeth. Merlin sucks in a sharp breath, trembling with arousal.
"You know, he was right about one thing," Arthur whispers into his ear. "Your legs do look phenomenal in those jeans."
Merlin turns his head, letting their lips touch. "Yeah?"
Arthur hums in agreement. "Long, long legs in those black skinny jeans." He drags his fingers up Merlin's thigh, nails catching on the fabric. "You're a sin."
Merlin laughs softly. "Look that good, huh?"
"Bet they would look even better wrapped around my waist as I fucked you senseless."
Shit.
Merlin bites his lip, embarrassed by how close he just came to making a mess in his jeans. He shifts till he can feel the thick, hard line of Arthur's cock and, God, Merlin wants that inside of him right fucking now. It takes everything Merlin has not to shove him into the loo and make Arthur take him right then and there.
"Home," he gasps. "Now, Arthur."
Arthur grabs his wrist and half drags him out of the club, Merlin stumbling in his haste. It's not like he cares, though, because they are out the door before the song even ends.
•••
Arthur is upon him the instant the door shuts. He shoves Merlin against the wall and catches his mouth in a rough, filthy kiss that makes Merlin's knees buckle. He tugs off Arthur's hood and throws off his cap, burying his fingers in his soft hair and molding himself to Arthur's body.
It's a wonder they were able to get home in one piece. Merlin had spent the entire car ride over with his hand between Arthur's legs, scraping his nails over the denim stretched tight over his cock and applying just barely there pressure, the kind that Merlin knew from years of experience drove Arthur mad.
When they break apart, Arthur is breathing hard, voice husky as he says, "You are infuriating."
Merlin cards his fingers through Arthur's hair, ruffling it absently. "You get jealous too easily," he accuses.
"I know what he was thinking, what he wanted to do to you," Arthur says, face contorted with disgust. "It's funny to me how those people thought they were allowed to touch you when you're mine."
"Yours, am I?"
"Do I have to remind you?" Arthur asks, his tone dangerously low.
Merlin hides a smile. He loves when Arthur gets like this, all possessive and overprotective. A part of him feels guilty for egging Arthur on, but a bigger part of him is so fucking turned on that he doesn't even care. He pushes the sweatshirt off Arthur's shoulders, then kneads the strong muscles there. Hooks his leg around Arthur's thigh.
"Maybe you do, Professor."
Arthur growls deep in his throat, the sound going straight to Merlin's cock. Suddenly, he wants nothing but to get out of these clothes, get Arthur on top of him and inside him. Arthur must be unwilling to let him go because he urges Merlin up into his arms, Merlin's long legs winding around him and squeezing. He has an ill-concealed love of Arthur's strength, something that Arthur likes to exploit mercilessly—and now is not an exception, as he grips the backs of Merlin's thighs and begins walking them towards the bedroom. Merlin will never admit how hot he thinks that is, but he suspects that Arthur has a good idea when he groans and makes a dive for his neck, sucking a mark to it.
Merlin has no idea how they don't end up crashing into the wall on their way, but when they reach the bedroom, Arthur tips Merlin onto the bed unceremoniously and proceeds to pull off his t-shirt. It's not the first time that Merlin is thankful for that motion-sensing lighting system Arthur had insisted on installing. He watches Arthur undress, reveling in the long stretch of naked skin, the wide breadth of his shoulders, before following suit. Merlin kicks off his jeans and gets to work on unbuttoning his shirt, but Arthur pulls it over his head before he can finish, throwing it off to the side carelessly.
"You'll get it wrinkled," Merlin protests, just to be contrary. Just to get a rile out of Arthur.
It works. Arthur pins him to the mattress, mouth latching onto a collarbone and biting down. Merlin lets out a gasp that ends on a moan as Arthur soothes the bite with his tongue. His stubble is beginning to look more like a beard, Merlin notices, and it scrapes roughly against his skin, leaving it feeling raw and sensitive.
Arthur looks up at him, fingers digging into Merlin's hips, and promises, "By the time I get done with you, that bloody shirt will be the last thing on your mind."
Merlin grins and thrusts up against Arthur's strong body. "This better be the best fuck of my life, Pendragon."
Arthur's mouth twitches, an aborted attempt at a smile that Merlin notices anyway. He threads his fingers through Arthur's hair and presses a quick kiss to his cheek, so at odds with everything else, but so very them.
Arthur hooks a thumb in his briefs and Merlin lifts up, letting Arthur pull them down and off. Arthur kisses him, tonguing him slowly while he reaches down and strokes Merlin's cock before urging him to roll over. Merlin complies without protest, mostly because the lack of friction on his cock is driving him insane. He presses his face into a pillow and grinds his hips into the mattress, seeking some relief. He sighs, then spreads his legs and does it again.
But Arthur's hand settles on his hip, stopping him. "Stay still," he murmurs firmly.
Merlin turns his head to the side and gives his bum a little wiggle, earning him a light slap.
"Yes, sir."
Arthur opens the drawer to their nightstand, rummaging through it as he starts planting wet, open-mouthed kisses down the length of Merlin's spine, occasionally stopping to suck a bruise on a random patch of skin. When he reaches Merlin's arse, he shoves his legs farther apart, then spreads him with his fingers. Merlin lets out a soft groan. He feels so fucking exposed like this, completely at the mercy of whatever Arthur wants to do to him.
The first teasing lick to his hole catches him off-guard, and Merlin tenses, then moans shamelessly.
"Fuck."
Arthur hums as he does it again, and Merlin can just hear the smirk in his voice, the bastard. The next time he presses his face in and spits before laving the area with the flat of his tongue, sucking and making some of the most obscene noises that Merlin has ever heard. Merlin tries digging his hips in a little, but that just causes Arthur to let go of his cheeks and hold his hips still instead. Which means he's using his tongue and lips and mouth to spread Merlin open instead.
Jesus Christ.
Merlin can feel Arthur's jaw working as he starts going at it earnestly, getting him good and wet and prodding his hole with his tongue. He licks around him before plunging his tongue in, pushing in warm spit, and fuck fuck fuck, his beard burns and chafes his skin but it feels so good and Merlin can't get enough.
"Arthur," he all but whines out.
And then Arthur is fucking him open with his tongue and Merlin can't remember how to form words anymore, just pants and groans into his pillow. He's so hard that it hurts, can feel himself leaking precome onto the sheets. His whole body feels like it's on fire from the inside out, hair sticking to his forehead. If Arthur keeps this up, he isn't going to last for much longer.
"Nngh, I'm—"
Arthur pulls off abruptly, and Merlin can't tell if he's more relieved or disappointed by the fact. His inner muscles ache, clenching at emptiness. Distantly, he hears Arthur uncapping what must be the lube, but the buzzing in his ears is too loud and he can't seem to breathe properly.
"Get on your back," Arthur demands.
Later, Merlin will be embarrassed by how quickly he obeyed, but right now he just does as he's told, lies down flat on his back with his legs on either side of Arthur. Merlin reaches for Arthur immediately and pulls him down for a long kiss, tasting himself.
Without warning, Arthur pushes one, then two lubed fingers inside him. Merlin hisses at the sudden intrusion and gives Arthur's bottom lip a terse bite, though it doesn't hurt as much as it would have had Arthur not just fucked him open with his tongue. Merlin shudders just as Arthur adds a third finger, twisting his way inside.
Normally, Arthur would spend ages just opening him up, making him beg for it like the arsehole that he is. Obviously impatient tonight, he pulls out his fingers quickly and slicks his cock before lining himself up. Merlin curls one leg around Arthur's waist, smiling mischievously, then cries out when Arthur slides into him, suddenly and without hesitation.
His hands fly to Arthur's shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Godyesfuckinghell. He feels so full.
Arthur takes his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss, but doesn't move, holding still inside of him. Teasing him. Making him wait for it. Merlin tries to cant his hips up to get him to move, but Arthur just starts kissing his throat.
"I'm not made of china, prat, so move, damn it."
"So impatient," Arthur chides. "So needy."
"Thought you were meant to be teaching me a lesson," Merlin rasps, confident he will have his way. "Or have you lost your touch?"
"You tell me," Arthur hisses.
He sets a brutal pace—pulling out slowly, then thrusting back in hard and deep. Each time Merlin urges him to go faster, Arthur just slows down even more, grinding his cockhead against Merlin's fluttering hole and dipping down to kiss him or to suck bruises to his neck.
It's torture, the very best kind; Merlin hates him for it and tells him as much, but Arthur just huffs out a pleased little laugh.
"More fun than the club, don't you think?" he asks absently.
Merlin absolutely agrees, but isn't about to give Arthur that smug satisfaction.
When Merlin reaches down with every intention of jerking himself off in time with Arthur's thrusts, Arthur takes his wrist and pins it over his head. Then does the same with the other.
"Leave them there."
"A-Arthur—"
Arthur licks a stripe from Merlin's chin to his ear, murmurs, "You're going to come with my cock up your arse and nothing else."
Fuck's sake, Arthur is trying to kill him.
"But I, ah, I need to—oh, right there..."
"Need to what?" Arthur asks after an especially deep thrust that makes Merlin cry out weakly. "Need to come? You'll just have to get off with my cock buried in your tight little hole."
"Bastard," Merlin accuses, gasping.
Arthur just smiles, kisses his forehead, and does it again.
Two can play at this game, Merlin decides. He tightens his legs around Arthur's waist, crossing his ankles and tilting his hips up higher, letting Arthur in deeper. Arthur groans on the next thrust in and presses his face into the side of Merlin's neck, hips stuttering. He stays there and circles his hips over and over and in, the head of his cock brushing over his prostate like a teasing caress that has Merlin fisting his hands in the sheets.
Arthur braces his arms on either side of Merlin, covering his body with his own, and Merlin feels so fucking caged like this, surrounded by Arthur everywhere—above him and around him and inside him.
He loves it.
"How close are you?" Arthur pants.
Truthfully, Merlin had been teetering on the edge long before Arthur had even slid inside him. It's a wonder he's lasted this long.
"M'close— Fuck, harder, yeah, like that. Come on…"
Arthur lifts his head and he's smiling, clearly delighted that he's reduced his pushy boyfriend into a needy, pathetic mess. Merlin kind of wants to wipe that smile off his face, but he can't think past more and now.
"Do you wanna come?" Arthur asks unnecessarily. Because he can.
"You—oh, oh God—know the answer to that—"
Arthur kisses the dip of his chin. "Tell me," he breathes.
And whatever, Merlin thinks. He's too far gone to care anymore, pride thrown out the window. Arthur can have this one if he wants. Merlin will have plenty of chances to get Arthur back for being an utter prick, but right now he needs to get off so fucking badly that he might actually cry.
"Make me come, Arthur. Please."
He thinks it's the "please" that really does it. Arthur hoists his legs up even higher and starts fucking into him hard and fast, his thrusts inching Merlin up against the headboard. His cock is trapped between their bodies, each upstroke putting pressure on it as Arthur hits his prostate over and over again, and it feels unbelievably good, he is so close—
Arthur kisses him messily. "Let go for me, Merlin."
"Arthur, Arthur—"
"Now, love."
Merlin arches up off the bed as he comes, coating both their bodies with his release. Arthur fucks him through it—desperate, shallow thrusts that lose their rhythm all too quickly. Merlin is still coming down from his own high when Arthur's body goes tense and he moans, a hoarse sound that makes Merlin's limp cock twitch valiantly. Seconds later and Arthur is slamming into him one last time and filling him up, body going lax. He slumps half on top of Merlin, tangling their fingers together.
It's a long while before either of them move. Eventually Arthur raises his head, grinning lazily. He looks exhausted but thoroughly satisfied, awash in the afterglow, and Merlin has to laugh before he leans up to kiss him.
"Well?" Arthur prompts after they part.
"Well what?" he asks, still dazed.
Arthur pins him with an expectant look. "What's the verdict? Best fuck of your life?"
Merlin hums thoughtfully, idly tracing a darkening bruise on Arthur's neck that he will most definitely need to hide with a tie. "Definitely in my top ten."
"Top ten?!"
"Top five?" he offers instead. "I thought you would be pleased considering this means you're so good at sex that it's hard for me to rank."
Merlin rolls his eyes as Arthur contemplates this. "You're right," he says, gifting Merlin with a kiss. "That is going to do wonderful, fantastic things to my ego."
"Oh joy."
Arthur gives one more lazy thrust with his limp cock before he pulls out of him. Despite how sore he feels, Merlin makes a small sound of disapproval when Arthur's cock leaves his body, suddenly feeling bereft. He feels come start to trickle down his thighs and onto the sheets.
"I need to— Oh..."
A warm, wet tongue touches his sternum and works down to his navel, licking away the come. Merlin groans at the sensation, twisting his fingers in Arthur's sweaty hair. Arthur swipes his fingers through the mess on his own chest and smirks, holding Merlin's gaze as he noisily licks them clean.
And fucking hell if that isn't one of the hottest things Merlin has ever seen in his life.
Merlin lets his thighs fall open, smiling demurely and looking up at Arthur through his eyelashes. "You gonna clean the rest of this up too?" he asks, voice soft.
Arthur's gaze is intense, eyes wanting. "I never leave a job unfinished," he says, licking his lips. His fingers wander down and slip between his cheeks, moving in and out of the mess he's made easily. Merlin sighs and tilts his head back.
"Feel good?"
"Mmm, yeah, fuck..."
Arthur slides a finger back inside him. Merlin shudders at how readily his body accepts it, the way his swollen, puffy hole just takes it all in. Arthur gives a low moan before shifting down so he's resting between Merlin's legs.
Merlin strokes his foot up Arthur's bicep. "Looking to earn some extra credit?"
Arthur kisses the inside of his thigh, grinning again. "Let's see if I can bump this up to your top three," he says with a wink.
Merlin lets his head fall back onto the pillow, laughing breathlessly as Arthur's head disappears from his view.
Going to the club really had been one of his better ideas.
•••