merlin_holidays | Happy Merlin Holidays, shadecat!

merlin-hols.livejournal.com posting in

Title: Collared
Recipient:

shadecat
Author:

venivincere
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, with hints of past Merlin/Leon
Word Count: ~4,000
Warnings: None
Summary: Ever since Arthur apologized, Merlin's spent rather more than a healthy amount of time in two pursuits: first, learning that the line between awake-but-will-fall-back-asleep Arthur and awake-and-will-eventually-rise Arthur lay just after irritation but before annoyance, and second, inventing new ways every morning to ride that line like a prize stallion.
Author's Notes: Shadecat, I hope you enjoy this. Many, MANY thanks to my wonderfully fast and thorough beta, P, who shall be named after the reveal.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavour.

“Welcome to the morning, Sire!”

Merlin swept back the curtains to reveal frost edging the panes of glass in Arthur’s windows, which in turn framed a bright, white sky with gentle flurries drifting through it. A chilly day to prepare for guests at court that afternoon, but Merlin figured he’d be busy enough he wouldn’t have time to get cold. He put on a smile with just enough cheer in it to rile Arthur, leaned into the view of Arthur’s one open eye, reached out an arm, and said, “Let’s have you, lazy daisy!”

Arthur grumped, “Merlin!” and opened both eyes. Merlin took this as a good sign, because if Arthur were awake enough to open both eyes, then he would definitely rise and not cause Merlin the kind of embarrassment he suffered one morning last summer when, after a particularly uncomfortable meeting between Arthur’s water cup and Merlin’s forehead the morning before, Arthur failed to appear on time at court. This, of course, precipitated a rather public bout of outrage from the King, who sent Merlin to spend the day in the stocks.

Arthur did apologize, and promised to mend his hurling ways, but that just left Merlin at sixes and sevens, knowing full well the sorry state of Arthur’s ability to remember a promise before breakfast. Since then, Merlin’s spent rather more than a healthy amount of time in two pursuits: first, learning that the line between awake-but-will-fall-back-asleep Arthur and awake-and-will-eventually-rise Arthur lay just after irritation but before annoyance, and second, inventing new ways every morning to ride that line like a prize stallion.

This morning’s distraction appeared in the form of a breakfast tray in Arthur’s lap and the laying out of clothes for the day whilst Arthur ate. “This one, do you think?” He held out a rich, heavy velvet robe. “With the ermine collar?” He dug his fingers into the soft, silky fur, and held it up. The whisper-like, barely-there touches of the fur on the underside of his wrist sent a shiver through him. He couldn’t control the effect those touches had on the direction of his blood flow. He closed his eyes in a slow blink and thanked the gods that the robe blocked Arthur’s view of his swiftly-tenting breeches.

Arthur cast a surly eye up from his breakfast tray and said, “They’ll do. Now, help me into my armour. And be sure to clean my chambers first thing today, Merlin. I want them finished and my bath brought up by the noon bell.”

Which wasn’t much time, so Merlin didn’t bother going back to his room when he cleared Arthur’s breakfast tray. Instead, he buggered off to the kitchens to arrange for Arthur’s bath water. Then he stayed to wangle a meat pie and a juicy bit of gossip that elevated the reputation of Baldric the stable boy from tramp to legend, and in the process made Merlin rather upset because Baldric had managed this feat with none other than Sir Leon, with whom Merlin himself had spent more than one amazingly sensual (And private, Baldric, you tattler!) evening. He returned to Arthur’s rooms feeling generally horny and well-fed, a bit in awe of and angry at Baldric and, if truth be told, just the tiniest bit jealous. Which, of course, would have been tinder over a spark, had Arthur been there. But Arthur was safely out of Merlin’s way at court, and after shutting the door and taking a quick turn about Arthur’s rooms to be certain no one was lurking in a corner, Merlin made a beeline for the ermine collar.

It only took a moment with his fingers curled in the fur to turn randy to raging. He trailed the speckled, snow-white collar up his arm and settled it about his own neck, and oh, how warm it was, resting there on top of his kerchief. But that wasn’t how Arthur would feel it, was it? It would nestle right up under his strong jaw and along his ear, tickle like a warm breath of air against his neck. Merlin wondered if the fur had the same effect on Arthur that it had on him (and he had looked, he always had, because who wouldn’t). But Arthur only ever wore the collar with loose, formal robes that covered any view of a bulge, and he was usually too red and warm in them, anyway, for it to tell on his state of arousal.

Merlin took off his kerchief to see what the collar would feel like that way. Ohhhh! Better than imagined. The fur rested warmly on his neck and just barely brushed against his jaw, where it once again sent the shivers rushing straight for his cock. What torture to turn his head and let the fur brush gently over that sensitive spot behind and below Merlin’s ear – the same spot that Leon had sucked on, sucked and licked and panted against until Merlin gave a jerky little thrust against Leon’s thigh and lost it in his breeches.

And now, Merlin was disgustingly hard. He lifted the collar and rubbed it against his cheeks with feather light strokes, the ghosts of fingers past trailing across his cheeks, over his chin and down his chest. He untied his tunic and let the collar slip inside, and at the first touch of the cool silken fur on his nipples, he gasped and his knees began to tremble. He let the collar slide all the way down, then caught it before it could slip out below the hem of his tunic. As the last bit ran past his navel, Merlin couldn’t help a trembling little thrust of his hips, pushing his aching cock into the fur. Even through his breeches he could feel the soft give, the warmth, and his breath hitched in his throat. He felt a flush spread up from his chest and suffuse through his face. His eyes slipped shut and he couldn’t catch his breath. He began to pant. With trembling fingers he unlaced his breeches. It wouldn’t hurt to find out how it felt. It only took a moment before he lost the strength in his legs and fell to his knees on the hearth rug. In the next moment, he realised he was about to come.

He heard a soft clank and his eyes shot open. There at the door stood Arthur.

A long, frozen moment passed. Then Merlin yanked the collar out of the front of his breeches and thrust it behind his back.

There were just... no words he could say that could possibly make this better. And just about anything he said would likely make things much worse. He stared, terrified as a hare cornered by a fox, trembling and gulping and trying harder than he ever had in his life not to make a sound. And fuck him, his life was over, because if anything, he was even harder than he was before. He could feel the tip of his cock grow damp as it nudged its way over the laces of his breeches. And Arthur….

Merlin thought that Arthur might be angrier than he had ever seen him. His eyes were fierce and his lips twitched. Was that a snarl? He was beginning to look purple and strangled. Merlin couldn’t help a breathy sob, which seemed to shake Arthur out of his immobility. Arthur shut the door behind him and leant back on it.

And then, he proceeded to laugh.

Arthur laughed harder than Merlin had ever seen him laugh, so hard that his eyes filled with tears, so hard he lost his legs and scraped down the door until he was sat on the flap of his gorget with his knees drawn up, sobbing silently with it after his breath had gone. And his balance, too, because he toppled over on his side, his pauldron clanking on the floor. Then he drew in a great, shuddering breath, and just howled. Merlin watched this extraordinary and unprecedented display, and since it was now obvious he wasn’t going to be executed on the spot, his feelings running the gamut from shocked to relieved to embarrassed and now annoyed and very, very foolish, of course this would be the moment he heard Sir Leon’s voice at the door saying, “My Lord? Is everything all right?”

Which, of course, it wasn’t; Arthur was in no state to answer, and at any moment, Leon would that find alarming enough to rush in and sort things out. Merlin had just enough presence of mind to hastily (and rather painfully) do up the laces of his breeches before Leon burst through the door, shouting, “My Lord! Are you wounded?” He dropped to his knees beside Arthur, then looked at Merlin, whose feelings by this time had veered back to (and probably taken up permanent residence at) embarrassed.

"Merlin?" asked Leon, obviously confused, and more than a little concerned.

Leon knew him, though, and Merlin knew it wouldn’t be long until Leon guessed what was happening here. Merlin blinked his eyes away from the concern in Leon's eyes, and didn't -- couldn't -- answer. He threw the collar on top of the rest of Arthur’s clothing and made a beeline for the door as Arthur choked out between hysterical giggles, “N—no, but M—Merlin might be!”

As he passed, Merlin caught a glimpse of Leon, who was frowning at Arthur, and then Merlin was mercifully through the door.

Fresh gales of laughter followed him out the door.. Halfway down the hall, Merlin stopped and leaned on the wall, shaky and fevered enough to need a rest. By the time he made it back to his room, his anger at Arthur had bubbled over into fury. Obviously, he had a grave mental disease just as Arthur claimed, because he was still hard as anything and was certain the laces of his breeches would finish cutting through the skin of his cock at any moment.

Well, there was no denying the inevitable; even though his hands trembled violently, he managed to unlace his breeches and wriggle his hand inside them, thinking of fur, and with the first good squeeze to the head of his cock, he was sinking to his knees in the throes of a particularly exquisite orgasm. He came to his senses an unmeasured time later lying face-down on the floorboards, his heaving breaths stirring dust plumes in front of his face.

::----------------------------::

“Merlin!”

Oh, great gods, not again.

“MERLIN!!!”

“In here, Sire!” He laid out Arthur’s washcloth and crock of soap, and plastered on a smile. He’d managed to get Arthur’s bath and bring up Arthur’s lunch and thereby avoid his calls twice, but there was no hope for it now. He would have to encounter Arthur at some point. Better to get the teasing over with now than to suffer indignities later in court. With guests. Merlin’s stomach sank.

He kept his eyes on the floor as Arthur walked in and immediately began stripping.

“A little help, here?” asked Arthur.

Merlin chanced a glance at him, but there was no mirth there. No recognition of his earlier fit of bad manners at all, really, or of Merlin’s earlier embarrassment. Nevertheless, Merlin wasn’t sanguine that nothing at all would be said. In his experience, things were always said. He finished unbuckling Arthur’s pauldron and started on his gorget.

By the time Arthur was clothed in nothing more than a bath sheet and stepping into the bath, Merlin was certain that something was wrong. Arthur almost never missed an opportunity to tease Merlin

“Arthur, are you all right?” he asked, picking up Arthur’s armour.

Arthur didn’t look at him. “Nothing is wrong, Merlin.”

Merlin expected more, he waited for more, but Arthur said nothing, just scrubbed and scrubbed, and finally said, “Rinse me, would you?” And then Merlin was wrapping the bath sheet around his shoulders and he was stepping out of his bath, all steaming skin and smelling faintly of the lavender steeped in the soap. Merlin took the opportunity for an extra sniff.

“Merlin, will you be dressing me some time before our guests arrive?”

It was probably a good thing that he had to go to his knees to help Arthur with his smalls and breeches – it helped hide his renewed arousal. He slipped first one foot, then the other through the holes and slid them up the firm columns of Arthur’s thighs; he laced the smalls, he laced the breeches, he rose and laced the tunic Arthur had shrugged into. And then, the rich, red velvet robe with the Pendragon crest picked out in gleaming gold thread: he set it over Arthur’s shoulders, then looped the thong around the golden, Pendragon-crest-shaped toggle. He adjusted the drape. He looped the thong one more time around the toggle. He smoothed the wrinkles out over Arthur’s shoulders and adjusted the drape again.

“Merlin.”

Merlin huffed. Fine, then. He picked up the ermine collar, and there was no hiding the trembling in his hands. He was certain the heat in his face shone a spectacular shade of red. He took up the collar laces in one hand and reached around Arthur’s back, then settled the collar over Arthur’s shoulders. He snugged it up around Arthur’s neck, and the combined powers of the gods could not stop his fingers from brushing it along the line of Arthur’s jaw. He gasped when Arthur did, and swallowed, and swallowed again, the leather ties grasped tightly in his hands like reins, his eyes never moving from Arthur’s neck.

Hands clamped on his wrists and he felt a hot puff of air on his cheek, and then he could see nothing but Arthur’s eyes, so close – so suddenly very close – to his own.

“It’s not just about the fur, is it?” asked Arthur, with something unreadable along with the gentle tease of his expression.

Merlin said nothing, just felt the heat rolling off his face in waves as he pulled his hands away, looped the ties of the collar around the robe’s toggle, and silently followed Arthur to the receiving hall.

::--------------------------------------------::

What a view, thought Merlin, standing next to Gaius in the hall as their guests were introduced. He couldn’t say what the guests looked like – he only had eyes for the striking figure Arthur cut as he stood regal and elegant next to his father, greeting their guests. For once in his life he was not once absent with the wine at dinner; he looked nowhere else than at Arthur all evening, and never missed a cue.

Of course, Arthur did not miss this at all, and two goblets in, Arthur had taken to shooting Merlin veiled looks. Four goblets in, Arthur began fingering the tip of his collar whilst doing it. Prat. It was obvious the moment Arthur realised Merlin had caught on to him, because he started smirking whilst doing it. Six goblets in, dinner was long over, the guests and most of the court had passed talkative and were well entrenched in the shoutative stage of drunkenness when Arthur started tipping his head to the side whilst doing it, running the side of his face over the collar, and – Arthur, you utter bastard, – sniffing.

Merlin made a hasty grab for his serving tray and pulled it in front of him so fast he whacked the tip of his straining, rampant cock. His eyes were still watering when Arthur gestured him over. By this time, Merlin had had quite enough, thanks ever so, and since the guests had risen and people were leaving the hall in droves, Merlin was quite happy to assist the Prince to his rooms. Where I’m going to spell an icy draft. By the time they reached Arthur’s rooms, Arthur drunkenly draped over Merlin’s shoulder so far that his collar brushed Merlin’s neck the entire way there, Merlin was ready to spell his fire cold, too.

“You never answered my question, Merlin,” said Arthur, the moment the door was shut and latched. He straightened up, and Merlin realized the prince was nowhere near as drunk as he had been playing at. Which meant that walk from the hall, in public, had been nothing more than a giant, viewable-by-everyone tease. He wondered how many people were laughing at him behind their sleeves, or out in the open after he’d passed.

“You’re an utter prat,” Merlin said, barely above a whisper, though he thought his hurt and anger were obvious. He sat down at the table and spared a thought for Leon, who must be feeling about as betrayed as Merlin right now. Leon, though, could do something about Baldric, and no one would think anything about it (except, perhaps, that Baldric deserved anything he got, the snitch). Merlin, on the other hand, hadn’t any recourse at all but to stand up to anyone thoughtless enough to look sideways at him, including Arthur.

“It really isn’t just about the fur, is it?” asked Arthur, dropping down on his heels in front of Merlin and taking Merlin’s hands in his own.

Merlin ripped them away and stood up. “Arthur – don’t tease.”

Arthur rose to his feet, chest to chest with Merlin. “Leon--” Arthur began, “He wasn’t happy, earlier.”

“Oh?” said Merlin, wondering how much Leon said. Leon was perfectly aware of Merlin’s feelings for Arthur, even though they had never talked about it. It was an unspoken assumption in their prior trysts and probably why Leon never let their… whatever-it-was go any further than it had. “Why was that?”

“He didn’t say,” said Arthur. He brought his hand up as if to place it on Merlin’s shoulder, thought better of it, and let it fall back to his side. “He just said that perhaps I shouldn’t tease you quite so much.” Arthur chuckled. “He reminded me that you serve me my food.”

Merlin gave a wry smile, but couldn’t look Arthur in the eye. “And, apparently, play dress up in your clothes. Or just play with them.” God, his face was hot.

“Merlin…” said Arthur, and this time he did put his hand on Merlin’s shoulder and with his other hand, tipped Merlin’s chin up so they were eye to eye. His voice was tender, without a trace of derision. “Do you want to be me, or do you just… want me?”

That was the final straw. Merlin gave a sharp whimper, and then he was kissing Arthur, mouth opening, tongue searching and finding, twining and learning. Arthur kissed back, the haze of wine heavy on his breath, sweet in the corners of his mouth. Merlin raised his arms and wrapped them around Arthur’s neck, his fur-clad neck, and before he could stop himself, he flexed his hips and ground his cock into the fold of Arthur’s thigh.

Arthur puffed a breath, half a laugh, in his ear. “It’s me and the fur, then, is it?”

"Yes," he said, kissing, kissing, "yes."

Arthur planted both his legs outside Merlin’s and canted his hips. His cock met Merlin’s, and they both gasped.

“Clothes. Off. Now,” said Merlin, bringing his arms back in front so he could unwind the leather thongs from around the tassel. He managed the collar, but not the robe before Arthur lost patience and lifted both robe and tunic over his head and piled them on the floor.

“Save that,” said Arthur, as Merlin was about to lay the collar on the table. “We’ll want it.” Arthur's face flushed red.

Merlin shivered, but stood still while Arthur pulled his jacket and tunic off in one graceful swoop. Then he grabbed the collar with one hand and Merlin with the other.

Merlin was familiar with the perspective of Arthur's room from almost any angle, having scrubbed every inch of it so many times. Staring at the ceiling from the feathered depths of Arthur's bed was new enough to make the room strange to him. And as soon as he realised it, it didn't matter anymore. Arthur glided in above him and pushed his awareness of anything else off to the sides. This was familiar: Arthur's dear, beloved face, Arthur's breathtaking smile, Arthur's passion, that for once was focused solely on Merlin. Merlin was so very captured that he didn't notice the collar in Arthur's hand until Arthur drew it up along Merlin's side, running it lightly over the side of his ribcage and under his arm, the tickle causing Merlin's arms to jerk away from Arthur's neck and down to his sides.

“Aaah,” said Merlin into Arthur’s mouth, writhing against the fur, a constant fight between come-closer and get-away. Merlin became aware that Arthur rolled a steady rhythm with his hips, pressing their cocks together as they kissed. Arthur leant on one elbow above Merlin, and with the other arm, gathered Merlin's hands in his own and held them fast into the pillows above his head. He rose up and Merlin watched with a small amount of surprise the frank admiration in Arthur's eyes as he took Merlin in, the pale skin of his chest, so much more free of scars than Arthur's; his ribs rippling shadows in the candlelight, the concave flex under his chest, the creamy-smooth skin above his navel. The darkening swirl of hair and the standard raised rampant and proud above it, beginning to drip.

"I could eat you," said Arthur, his eyes sparking with hunger, with desire. "I will eat you."

Merlin gasped and thrust his hips up in earnest now, longing to get his hands on the fur and watch Arthur fall apart under it. The moment Arthur's attention turned to pulling off Merlin's breeches and swallowing Merlin's cock, Merlin captured the fur and ran it from the small of Arthur's back to the back of his neck.

In response, Arthur's mouth closed tighter around Merlin's cock, and Merlin's hips raised up under Arthur's mouth before he knew what he was doing. Arthur pulled off Merlin's cock with an obscene pop. "Keep still."

"Arth – Arthur, sorry," Merlin panted. And then his tenuous hold on the fur was lost; Arthur sat up just far enough to pull the collar back on over his shoulders and neck, then sank back down on Merlin's cock. His arms came up around Merlin's legs and clamped them against his shoulders as he sucked and stroked.

Merlin let a breathy whine escape. The fur tickled up behind his legs, behind his knees, so soft and easy on his skin, every little tuft sending shivers of arousal straight to his cock. His cock, which was once again enveloped between Arthur's hot cherry lips, slick with spit, and… and…

"Arthur," said Merlin, as he tipped over with a groan. His whole body shuddered in release, the strength shaking out of him, and when he was done pouring himself down Arthur's throat he lost all strength and collapsed, trembling, over Arthur's shoulders.

Arthur pulled himself out from under Merlin's legs and crawled up beside him, taking off the collar. "Too hot for this," he said, and indeed despite the season, Merlin could see rivulets of sweat running down Arthur's neck. Merlin lifted two heavy arms and pulled the collar off Arthur's neck.

"I can put this to better use," said Merlin, eyeing Arthur's the heavy, purple head of Arthur's cock.

Merlin let himself smirk when it only took a few pulls on the collar around Arthur's cock before he was spurting into the soft, hot space between Merlin's hands.

CODA:

The seasons had changed from winter to summer and back to winter again. Merlin and Arthur lay tangled together in the dim light of the dying coals, letting their breathing die down in the afterglow. "That was brilliant,” said Arthur, flopping an arm down possessively over the collar and running his fingers through the ratty, tattered fur.

"It’s going to fall apart soon," said Merlin, then he grinned. "Maybe I should get caught wanking with your other clothes. Spice things up a bit."

Arthur laughed. "But it was funny," he said, fondly, as Merlin felt him smirking into the skin of his shoulder.

The next moment, the smirk fell as he pulled back. "But I also remember, Leon defended you. Quite vehemently, actually."

"Did he?" said Merlin, smiling.

Arthur caught his wrist in a vice grip, more desperate than angry. "Tell me that's over, Merlin. Tell me you're not…"

Merlin didn't hesitate. "No, Arthur. No." He pulled his wrist out of Arthur's grip and pulled him tighter to his chest. "It was over long ago, long before you found me in your chambers that day. And it hadn't meant much to begin with. Leon's always known where my loyalties lie. And my… affections." He gave Arthur's shoulder a squeeze.

"Good," huffed Arthur. He added more softly, "I won't share."

"What, never?" Merlin picked up the collar where it lay beside Arthur, and stared at it. "Well, I suppose it had to go sometime."

"Merlin, you idiot," said Arthur, laughing.

"Not so much. I managed to get caught by you, didn't I?"

--end—