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tourdefierce!
Dec. 11th, 2010 05:46 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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merlin_holidaysTitle: Just Dance
Recipient:tourdefierce
Author:okydoky
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 5,300.
Warnings: Some age difference.
Summary: Merlin’s Masters dissertation isn’t going so well and to numb his frustration at being assigned a new tutor, he needs a night out. And then he meets Arthur.
Author's Notes: Thank you to F and M for taking a look at this for me! Happy Holidaystourdefierce, I hope you enjoy! :D
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavour.
: :
Merlin drops his head to the desk with a dull thud. Pain throbs through his skull, but he doesn't care. Because for the third time that term, he's had to scrap the second chapter of his Masters dissertation as it was absolutely wank in about one million different ways.
What ever had possessed him to try and write the fucking thing on the representation of Middle Aged legends and myths in twenty-first century literature, Merlin has long forgotten. He was probably drunk. That usually explains most things.
"Merlin!"
He lifts his head from the desk, his vision going momentarily black. He shakes it off.
"Yeah?" he calls.
"Are you hitting your head against the desk again?"
Merlin pauses. The last time Gwen had heard him doing that, they'd had a very long and depressing conversation about the damage he might be doing to himself, followed by an explanation of how to get in touch with the university guidance councillor. God, that had been a long night.
"No," he calls. Merlin hears Gwen snort, and then footsteps on their rickety old stairs.
She sticks her head around the door. "Fancy going out?"
"On a Tuesday?" Merlin gasps in mock surprise.
Gwen raises an eyebrow, and folds her arms. She clearly has her argument planned. "It's gay night, Merlin, you know you love it. You haven't had a shag in at least two months now, have you? Plus, it's a pint and a shot for two quid in The Orange Tree tonight."
Hmm. That is a very good argument: the cheap drinks and the possibility of a shag. Merlin swivels around on his computer chair to look at his timetable, blu-tacked to the wall.
"It's been more like three. And it was shit. I've got lectures all afternoon tomorrow..." Merlin tells her, then opens up his day planner. "Oh fuck me, and a meeting at ten o'clock tomorrow to meet my new dissertation supervisor. She can't be any worse than bloody Frayn though, can she? Have you got any idea where room KP106 is?"
Gwen screws up her face in thought. "No, I haven't got a clue. KP... sounds like it'll be in the Engineering Department," she shudders.
"Fuck," Merlin says. He never ventures over that side of campus. "Why would it be all the way over there?"
"No idea. Have you got anything to show the new supervisor?" Gwen asks hopefully. She should know better and she flops down on his bed, stretching her toes.
Merlin groans, shaking his head. He saves his document, seeing as he hasn't actually changed anything on it apart from the footer all day, and clicks off of Word. iTunes pops up, and he selects a playlist from the sidebar. Lady Gaga starts to warble out of the speakers. "No, only the first chapter, and some wank notes for chapter two which don't want to actually become a chapter. Maybe she'll actually be able to tell me where I'm going wrong."
"You really need to find out her name."
"I know," Merlin whines. "Frayn just told me to be in KP106 at ten a.m. tomorrow to meet her. I don't even know what to bring, or ... anything really."
"We said this year was going to be different now we're post-grad's," Gwen comments. She gets up and starts rummaging around on the top shelf of Merlin's wardrobe, underneath numerous hoodies, sweatshirts and jumpers. All too necessary for when the heating inevitably packs up in the middle of January when it starts to snow.
“We say that after every year,” Merlin sighs. “What are you looking for?”
“Thought you had some vodka stashed in here,” Gwen replies.
“It’s underneath the shoes on the left hand side,” Merlin tells her.
“Changed the hiding place?” Gwen asks.
“I remembered last time I was drunk.” If Merlin came into the house after a couple too many drinks and remembered where he’d hidden the rest of the vodka, he tended to drag it out and drink it. Even if he was on his own. Hiding it or finishing it before he went out were the only options.
Gwen shudders, but drags out a half empty bottle from between an ill-advised purchase of fake Uggs and some flip flops. She sits back on Merlin’s bed. “That morning you looked a bit like you were already dead?”
“Yeah.”
They sit in silence for a few seconds as Lady Gaga sings Roma ro ma ma ma....
“Showers, then?” Merlin asks.
“Yeah,” Gwen says, and there is a flurry of motion as the two of them scurry off to ready themselves for the night to come.
It’s an hour later when Gwen appears back in his room, the bottle of vodka now accompanied by some flat Coke she found in the fridge. It’s not the worse they’ve had, they once had to resort to orange squash. And, of course, Gwen looks beautiful. In just an hour she’s managed to shower, do something to her hair to make it all shiny and curly, as well as put make-up on and squeeze into a dress so tiny Merlin thinks it may cause her to be arrested for indecent exposure.
Merlin’s had a shower, and is still staring into the depths of his wardrobe, looking for a top. He’s managed the jeans. A large amount of his clothes have ended up strewn across his room. There’s a jumper perilously close to a pint of water.
“Help,” he says, waving his hand vaguely.
Gwen tuts, and thrusts a glass into his hand. She pulls out a t-shirt that isn’t too wrinkly, and throws it at him. He slides it on, and fumbles around for some socks, and somehow manages to find two that match. Well. They’re both blue. One may have robots on. The other may not.
Merlin sinks into his computer chair. “Do you want to do my hair while you’re at it?”
With only a small glance which Merlin reads as, ‘dear God, you are pathetic, but I feel sorry for you with your big ears, and failed dissertation so, yes, yes I will do your hair’, Gwen picks up a tub of wax. She scoops out a handful, warming it between her hands before threading her fingers through Merlin’s hair.
“I love you,” Merlin tells her as he inspects the work of art that is now his hair.
“Save it for later,” Gwen tells him, and the two of them begin to drink the vodka and flat Coke, listening to a terrifyingly odd mix of music that surprises Merlin when it blasts from his speakers. It’s about an hour later that they stagger down the stairs, Gwen to slip on some obscenely high shoes which make her almost the same height at Merlin, and Merlin to find some shoes he hasn’t worn while walking through a field.
They’re almost at the front door when Merlin has a thought.
“Shit,” he lies. “Think my ID card is upstairs, back in a second.” He bounds up the stairs, leaving Gwen sipping the end of her drink.
What Merlin is actually doing when he shuts the door behind him, is preparing in case Gwen is right and he does get what he wants out of tonight - a fit man in his bed, telling Merlin to kiss him, suck him, ride him, fuck him. Yes. A man can dream. He raises his hand and murmurs a few words. His messy room begins to right itself, his clothes flying back to the wardrobe and doors, his books going back to the shelf, and DVDs back in their cases. He wants to make a good impression after all.
As an afterthought, Merlin finds his lube and condoms and puts them in at the front of his underwear drawer. Just in case of course.
: :
“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen says a couple of hours later. She leans her chin on his shoulder. “I’m drunk.”
Merlin laughs, and turns in her arms. “I know. Me too.”
“Not as drunk as me.”
“I don’t think anyone in the world is drunker than you.”
“Lance is here,” Gwen says, pulling away from Merlin. There’s a small smile on her face, and Merlin can see her eyes darting around the huge room, looking for him.
“Well, what are you talking to me for?” Merlin asks, and laughs as Gwen wanders off, weaving through the crowds of people on the dance floor and around the bars to find her on-again off-again boyfriend.
“Sending your girl off to another man?” comes a voice from behind Merlin.
He whirls around to see a man, a tall, blond, tanned, fucking gorgeous (maybe slightly older) man, leaning against the bar. He looks like all of Merlin’s wet dreams and wank fantasies rolled into one.
“You’re talking me to me?” Merlin asks.
The man smiles, and Merlin sees his eyes are flickering down to the rainbow band around Merlin’s wrist. In that second Merlin knows without a doubt that somewhere, even if he’s not wearing it, this bloke has a rainbow wristband, necklace, badge, socks, something.
“I am.”
Merlin takes a few steps over, standing next to him at the bar. A little taller than him, broad shoulders, strong hands. Yes.
“She’s not my girl,” Merlin tells him. “That’s Gwen. She’s my roommate. And that bloke she’s snogging is her boyfriend.”
“Ahh,” the man says. His breath is suddenly near Merlin’s ear, warm and lovely so he can hear his deep voice properly. “So she’s Gwen. Who are you?”
Merlin turns to look at him, and their faces are close, oh so close, and it’s barely a breath when he says, “Merlin.”
A smile spreads over the other man’s face, and it sends a shiver down Merlin’s spine. “I’m Arthur.”
“Oh God,” Merlin laughs. “I’ve not met an Arthur around my age before.”
Arthur’s eyes rake up and down Merlin, and his gaze makes Merlin feel exposed - naked. “I wouldn’t say I was quite your age,” Arthur murmurs and God, his voice. Fuck. Merlin wonders if five minutes after meeting is too soon to invite someone back to your house to fuck until you can’t see straight. He suspects it is.
Merlin shrugs. Okay, so maybe Arthur’s a few years older - surely no more than five or six. What does it matter? “Let’s not argue about numbers. Want a drink?”
Arthur smiles, flashing white teeth. Merlin notes with glee that his smile is utterly breathtaking, but not perfect because it’s slightly crooked and Merlin wants to lick each and every one of his teeth.
“Pint of Carling, please,” Arthur says and Merlin wrinkles his nose. If Arthur is having a pint, will he look like a completely ridiculous and entirely gay human being if he orders vodka and cranberry? He decides he will, and a few minutes later, when the barman reaches him, and Arthur has been standing behind him, pressing him against the bar, Merlin orders himself a Jack Daniels and coke.
Arthur takes his pint from Merlin’s hand, their fingers brushing. “Let’s go and sit down, yeah?”
Merlin follows Arthur, at a reasonable distance in order to check out his arse. It more than passes the test, looking lovely and round and perfect for Merlin to sink his teeth into.
They sit down, sliding to the back of a booth, their thighs just about touching as they sit.
A text beeps through onto his phone from Gwen.
fit! Old? But fit! i approve hahaha xxxx
“So how was it?” Arthur asks. He sips his drink, his eyes closing in what looks like pleasure as he swallows the first cool mouthful.
“How was what?”
“My arse when you were checking it out?”
Merlin lets out a bark of surprised laughter. “I was impressed.” Merlin tries to make a mental note that he needs to learn to be more subtle. Then again, Gwen has been telling him that for years that he’ll never manage it.
“I aim to please,” Arthur says, smiling that beautiful smile again.
“You make a habit of letting people look at your arse, then?” The words escape Merlin’s lips before he realises they could be taken as Merlin asking Arthur if he’s a prostitute. His brain-to-mouth filter works even worse after a few drinks.
Arthur looks thoughtful. “No, not everyone,” he says softly.
“Good,” Merlin says, and then drinks a huge gulp because fuck, if he could get any cheesier he probably would.
“Merlin!” someone falls into the booth.
“Hi, Gwen.” He shoots a look at Arthur, who is eyeing her curiously.
“I’m going back to Lance’s flat,” she tells him, nodding sincerely. Lance stands awkwardly to the side, holding Gwen’s bag and coat.
“That’s probably for the best.”
Gwen sighs and looks at Arthur. “We were going to go back to ours, but that’s not a good idea, is it?”
No, no it’s not. Not that Gwen hasn’t heard him being shagged before. Oh God, the teasing the next day had been so bad he’d contemplated becoming celibate. “It’s up to you.”
She blinks at him. “Nah, you’re well noisy when you’re drunk. See you tomorrow, Merlin.” Gwen lurches forwards, planting a kiss on the corner of his lips.
With that, Lance pulls her away, with a muttered, “Sorry,” in their direction.
Merlin turns to face the table, wondering whether he can ever look at Arthur again while his cheeks are burning quite so badly with embarrassment.
“Noisy, are you?” Arthur asks. When Merlin finally looks at him, Arthur’s lips are parted, his fingers catching the drips of condensation running down his nearly empty glass.
“Er... I have no idea how to answer that,” Merlin says honestly. Apart from the fact that the answer is yes. Merlin makes a lot of noise. He talks a lot. It’s who he is.
“She kissed you, too,” Arthur points out. Merlin is quite certain he detects a pout in his voice.
“Jealous?” Merlin retorts.
There’s a pause. “A little.”
“You can kiss me if you like,” Merlin says, and thinks, a whole lot more as well if that’s what Arthur wants.
Then, Arthur’s face is near his, his lips just centimetres away from Merlin’s. Merlin rests his hand on Arthur’s jean-clad thigh. There is nothing else Merlin can do but surge forward that last little bit of space, and kiss him. His lips... his lips feel amazing, sliding alongside Merlin’s, warm and soft and lovely.
“There’s something about you, Merlin… “ Arthur says as he pulls away. His hand rests on Merlin’s, and he threads their fingers together.
“Oh?” Merlin asks, pressing his lips to Arthur’s neck gently.
Arthur takes in a shuddering breath. “Not here, Merlin.”
“Okay,” Merlin says. “I live just... we can walk, or taxi...”
“Taxi,” Arthur nods, and pushes Merlin out of the booth. His hands circle Merlin’s waist, cradling his arse first before splaying his fingers across Merlin’s stomach as they walk.
They leave the club, Merlin keeps his head down to ignore the smirks they get from fellow students on the way out. Everyone knows exactly what they’re up to, what they’re about to do. A line of taxis wait outside, and Merlin tumbles into the first, muttering his address as Arthur follows him.
As hard as Merlin tries to get Arthur to feel him up in the back of a taxi, it doesn’t work. Merlin’s hands roam over Arthur’s strong thighs, dip beneath his knees, over his broad shoulders. Merlin presses his lips to Arthur’s cheek and wrists and neck, but Arthur just laughs, licks across Merlin’s cheekbone once and squirms away,
A text comes through from Gwen.
don’t do anything i wouldn’t do! slag!xxxx
When the taxi pulls up outside Merlin’s house, Arthur thrusts a note through the tiny slot in the window separating them from the driver. He is pulled from the car, and Arthur is on him, against his back, muttering in his ear.
“Where’s the key, Merlin? Where’s the key, get it out, God, I can’t wait to get you alone, fucking hell...”
Merlin fumbles in the pockets of his jeans, his fingers finally curling around cool metal.
“It’s just down here,” Merlin says, tugging Arthur down an alley way to their back door. “I’m sorry...”
“What about?”
Merlin trips over the same brick he trips over every time when he comes down this stupid alleyway in the stupid dark.
“My er... rape alley. I’m not you know.”
“You’re not going to rape me?”
Merlin just laughs, and then - thank fuck - they’re at his back door and the key is turning (which is good, because sometimes the fucking things freezes when it’s cold, and today it is definitely very cold) and the door is open.
They stumble into the kitchen, and Arthur’s fingers are on him, plucking at the hem of his t-shirt, and Merlin flings it off as he pulls Arthur up the stairs.
A text comes through from Gwen.
I can hear you from here Merlin! Shhhh!xxxx
This time, he silences his phone.
Soon, they’re in his bedroom, and Merlin pushes Arthur against the bed, climbing on top of him straddling Arthur’s thighs as he undoes the buttons of Arthur’s shirt.
He soon reveals Arthur’s chest, lovely and muscled with hair that Merlin can’t help but run his fingers through it. He brushes over one of Arthur’s nipples, and the body beneath Merlin’s thighs arches, and God, Merlin is so hard.
Arthur’s hands –big, strong, manly hands, that look like they could reduce Merlin to a broken, quivering mess – cradle his face. His thumbs brush across his cheekbones and they look at each other, just for a moment.
Then, Merlin begins to fights with Arthur’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, and fuck, can Merlin have sex with someone’s shoulders? Is that possible? If it is, Merlin is going to do it. But, Merlin thinks Arthur may be okay with that, as he has a sneaky suspicion that Arthur would quite like to come all over Merlin’s face, rubbing his come into the hollows of Merlin’s cheeks.
“I haven’t kissed you nearly enough,” Arthur says, and Merlin realises how very true that is. He leans down, presses his lips to Arthur’s, and is swept into a deep kiss. Arthur’s tongue slides alongside Merlin’s, his stubble rubbing against his cheek, and his cock hard against Merlin’s arse.
Jeans. Trousers. Too many clothes.
Merlin has to pull away because if they’re going to carry on with this, this glorious, lovely, wet, kissing, they need to be naked.
Fuck, he wishes that Arthur knew about his magic, because right now, he’s never needed anyone naked more in his entire fucking life.
Merlin rolls to the side, and starts on Arthur’s jeans, pulling at the buttons. Arthur swats him away before nudging him with his foot, and Merlin realises they’ve still got shoes on. They’ve still got shoes on, and Merlin’s about two minutes from coming with his shoes still on. He crawls down to pull Arthur’s expensive looking loafers from his feet, as well as his socks. The man even has beautiful toes. Merlin licks his ankle before realising that Arthur is pushing down his trousers, and his boxers, and Christ, he’s naked in Merlin’s bed. Merlin kicks off his own shoes, too.
He has to take a second to look. Merlin sits back on his heels and looks at the vision that is the man on his bed. His gorgeous face, his shoulders, his cock, arching from his body.
“Like what you see?” Arthur asks with a smirk.
Merlin can’t help but nod, because yes, yes he does like what he sees. Very much so. “Jesus fucking Christ, yes.”
“Take off your clothes,” Arthur says, and his teeth dig into the plump flesh of his lower lip. He props himself up on his elbows to watch.
Merlin clambers off the bed, and his fingers are shaking as he thumbs his button through the hole. His jeans slide down over his hips, because yeah, he is skinny. Maybe too skinny but it doesn’t matter because the way Arthur is looking at him is making him feel like he’s on top of the world. He kicks his jeans off before he rests his palm on his stomach.
“And the robot sock,” Arthur comments.
Merlin laughs, blushes and plucks off his socks, the robot one and the blue one, throwing them so they land on Arthur’s chest.
Arthur chucks them back, but they miss, landing on the bed. But then, they’re forgotten, because they’re both naked and there are things more important than robots.
“Come here,” Arthur says, and then he’s at the edge of the bed. Merlin steps forwards, and Arthur takes hold of his hips. Arthur’s grip is tight, his fingers and nails digging into Merlin’s skin. There will be bruises tomorrow, because well, Merlin bruises like a three day old peach.
Arthur pushes Merlin’s boxers down past his thighs, his knees, his calves until he has to step out of them. Then, Merlin’s cock is hanging in Arthur’s face, hot and hard and heavy.
Eyes wide and dark, Arthur looks up at Merlin, his lips parted. Just a few centimetres, and Merlin’s cock will be in his mouth. But soon, Merlin doesn’t have to imagine, as Arthur’s lips are around his cock, sucking, sucking so hard. Merlin moans, his hands curling in Arthur’s hair.
Through the mindless, amazing pleasure, Merlin pulls Arthur off his cock. He comes away with a whine.
“Condoms,” Merlin says breathlessly. “There are condoms in my drawer.”
Arthur looks at him blankly, his mouth opening to swallow Merlin down again.
No. As amazing as being sucked off and fucked and fucking without a condom feels, Merlin isn’t stupid enough to do that without protection with a guy he’s just met. No.
He crawls across the bed, Arthur’s hand slapping his backside once. He moans, pushing into the touch, but fumbles in his drawer anyway. The box is in his hand, and he tears off a sachet, throwing it back at Arthur. He tucks the box under his pillow, and as a second thought, the lube.
Merlin lies back on the bed and watches as Arthur rips open the packet. He slips it between his lips, looking up at Merlin. The air is tense between them as Arthur leans down, and slides the condom over Merlin’s cock with his lips.
Merlin’s cock is made for Arthur’s mouth. There is nothing else for it. The way Arthur just seems to know what Merlin likes, his tongue is always in the right place. Massaging the vein down his cock, dipping in the slip, twisting around the head, on his balls, oh fuck, everywhere. Merlin’s breath is coming fast, so loud.
“What do you want to happen?” Merlin asks. “You want to fuck me? You want me to fuck you? Or something else? My mouth on you... you have to let me do something, Arthur, I need to touch you.”
Arthur pulls off. “Will you fuck me?” he asks.
Blood surges to Merlin’s cock. “Really? You really want me to do that?”
“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Arthur says.
“On your back,” Merlin orders.
Arthur complies, lying on his back. Merlin never thought this was going to be how today turned out. He’d thought, if he was going to have sex tonight, that he’d be the one on his back, getting fucked. Not that there was anything wrong with that - Merlin loved that. But this... this is different.
“Spread your legs.”
Merlin digs the lube out from under the pillow, and slicks up a finger. Reaching between Arthur’s legs, his strong muscles thighs, Arthur spreads his legs quickly and easily. Arthur pushes on Merlin’s finger when he finds the right spot to push inside him.
“Careful,” Arthur says, the words coming from his mouth like an explosion. “I don’t... do this very often.”
Merlin nods frantically. “Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be so fucking careful, and you’re going to be so fucking ready for me you’ll be begging me for it.”
Arthur lets out a strained laugh, “Yeah? Go on then. Prove it, Merlin.”
Merlin slips his finger the entire way inside Arthur finding little resistance, but the space is so tight that Merlin can’t help but wonder how on earth he’s ever going to fit himself in there. Arthur’s not relaxed.
“Put a condom on,” Merlin says. “Under the pillow.”
Arthur fumbles with the box as Merlin slides his finger in and out of Arthur’s arse. The packet falls from the box and Arthur picks it up, ripping another packet open and taking out the rubber, and sliding it over his dick.
Merlin puts his mouth over Arthur’s cock, sucking the head hard, the taste of rubber in the back of his throat as he slips another finger inside Arthur. The blow-job - Merlin doesn’t know if it’s the sucking or the licking or the fingers or what but it relaxes Arthur. So much so that his arse practically eats up Merlin’s second finger and his third. Merlin pushes his fingers in and out of Arthur’s arse, twisting and curling, ruthlessly fucking Arthur with his fingers. Arthur lets out a groan as Merlin hits his prostate, forcing himself up and down, needing more, more, more now.
Scissoring his fingers one final time, Merlin hears Arthur groaning from above him. With one hand, he rolls Arthur’s balls between his fingers before tugging them. He’s obviously close, but Merlin will kill him if Arthur comes before Merlin’s cock is inside him.
“Now, Merlin,” Arthur groans, and Merlin can’t do anything but do as he says. He pulls his mouth from Arthur’s cock and fingers from his arse.
Arthur lifts his legs, spreading them, as he pulls them back against his chest. “Fuck me,” Arthur breathes.
Merlin positions himself between Arthur’s legs, letting his ankles rest on his shoulders. He turns his head, sucking then biting at one ankle. His cock, aching so much by now, rubs between Arthur’s arse cheeks, the lube easing his way. With a push, Merlin finds the head of his cock buried in Arthur.
There’s a groan, and Merlin isn’t surprised to find that it was him.
Arthur lets out a chuckle of weak laughter beneath him. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his teeth bite into his bottom lip. He rocks his hips, and Merlin slips further in. “Fuck,” Arthur says.
Merlin takes it as an order even though it’s probably not one. He pushes forwards and he’s buried completely in Arthur, his balls brushing Arthur’s perfect round arse.
“Oh yes,” Merlin moans, “yes, yes, yes...”
“God, you are noisy,” Arthur laughs. “Come on fuck me, Merlin, do it.”
And Merlin does. He thrusts in and out of the deep, hot pressure that is Arthur’s arse as he watches Arthur discard of his own condom and take his cock in his hand. The sight of Arthur wanking himself off sends a surge of lust and arousal through Merlin’s stomach and straight to his cock.
“Oh Jesus,” Merlin whines. His hips stutter as his orgasm starts to creep over him, consuming him without even a whisper of a hint. “Fuuuuck,” he moans as his hips push against Arthur’s for one last time and he comes.
Merlin sags against Arthur as his orgasm finishes. He presses his lips against Arthur’s damp shoulder.
“Merlin,” he moans.
Merlin rolls to the side and takes Arthur’s cock in his hand. It barely takes three strokes until Arthur is coming, too. He arches off the bed, fingers buried in the sheets, toes curled and head thrown from side to side.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Merlin sighs, and he settles into Arthur’s side, sucking a hickey into the side of Arthur’s neck.
Arthur laughs, and Merlin doesn’t know what about, because he’s falling asleep, but Arthur does something with the condoms, and wipes a damp cloth over the two of them. Then, they both fall asleep.
They have sex twice before the morning (once, Merlin finds himself on his back, Arthur riding his cock, and secondly, Merlin is fucked so thoroughly, he can’t quite remember whether he was on his back, on top, upside down or what, and it doesn’t matter). Merlin wakes up alone, having rolled over in the night, and finds Arthur’s note - with his phone number - stuck to his face.
He pulls out his phone. 8.45 am. He’s got his meeting at ten, and if he doesn’t have a shower - and maybe be a little bit sick - his new tutor will know exactly what he got up to last night.
He glances through the four texts from Gwen.
oh merlin merlin yes yes!! xxxx
baby when its not rough it isnt fun xxxx
is it safe to come home now? I’m so sick and hungover lance wants rid of me :((( xxxx
don’t forget your meeting! unless you’ve died from too much sex!xxxx
Oh dear God. Merlin tries not to think too much about why Arthur left without saying goodbye - he did leave his number after all. It’s not easy to stop thinking completely, as well, his arse aches and his jaw aches and well, he’s just very, very well fucked right about now.
The shower makes him feel an awful lot better, as well as clean clothes, three packets of ready salted crisps and a pint of orange juice as he walks the miles and miles to his stupid meeting. He just about remembers all his notes.
The walk takes a lot longer than Merlin would have liked, but it clears his head and he even thinks he’ll be able to have an intelligent conversation.
Merlin knocks on the door (which takes so bloody long to find and is in the Engineering department) and hears a muffled voice say, “Come in.”
There, in his dissertation tutors seat - that was meant to be a woman, thank you very fucking much - is Arthur all wide-eyed and slack jawed.
“Right. M. Emyrs, I presume?” Arthur sighs, reaches into his desk and pulls out some type of form, the kind that comes in triplicate and Merlin usually sits and plays with to see it copy and copy and copy. He points a pen in Merlin’s direction and says, “Sign here please.”
“What?” Merlin thinks he’s misheard or maybe he hasn’t even woken up yet this morning and this is all a bad dream. His next thought is that Arthur is a fucking prat who is making him sign some sort of waiver so Arthur doesn’t get his arse sued.
“It’s a transfer form, Merlin.” Arthur’s tone is this sort of fond annoyance that makes Merlin’s cheeks heat and feel oh so very very naked. “I’m not planning on giving up on another chance to shag you. So we’ll find you another tutor. Is this how you scared the last one off? Anyway, I think Gauis will do nicely. Not much chance of you picking him up at a bar and seducing him back to your freezing cold house.”
“I most definitely did not shag Frayn. She’s a witch! And excuse me! You picked me up!”
“Shut up and sign the paper, Merlin.”
Merlin scribbles his name beside the ‘X’ and pushes it back towards Arthur. “Does this mean we aren’t meeting?”
“Yes. Go home and work on your Dissertation, you dosser.” Arthur lazes back in his chair. Merlin's mouth waters. All he wants to do is fall to his knees, crawl across the floor and suck Arthur’s cock. Again.
So he turns and locks the door and wonders just how noisy he can make Arthur be, sitting at his desk with Merlin’s lips stretched wide around him.
Recipient:
tourdefierceAuthor:
okydokyRating: NC-17
Pairings: Merlin/Arthur
Word Count: 5,300.
Warnings: Some age difference.
Summary: Merlin’s Masters dissertation isn’t going so well and to numb his frustration at being assigned a new tutor, he needs a night out. And then he meets Arthur.
Author's Notes: Thank you to F and M for taking a look at this for me! Happy Holidays
tourdefierce, I hope you enjoy! :DDisclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to Shine and BBC. I make no profit from this endeavour.
Merlin drops his head to the desk with a dull thud. Pain throbs through his skull, but he doesn't care. Because for the third time that term, he's had to scrap the second chapter of his Masters dissertation as it was absolutely wank in about one million different ways.
What ever had possessed him to try and write the fucking thing on the representation of Middle Aged legends and myths in twenty-first century literature, Merlin has long forgotten. He was probably drunk. That usually explains most things.
"Merlin!"
He lifts his head from the desk, his vision going momentarily black. He shakes it off.
"Yeah?" he calls.
"Are you hitting your head against the desk again?"
Merlin pauses. The last time Gwen had heard him doing that, they'd had a very long and depressing conversation about the damage he might be doing to himself, followed by an explanation of how to get in touch with the university guidance councillor. God, that had been a long night.
"No," he calls. Merlin hears Gwen snort, and then footsteps on their rickety old stairs.
She sticks her head around the door. "Fancy going out?"
"On a Tuesday?" Merlin gasps in mock surprise.
Gwen raises an eyebrow, and folds her arms. She clearly has her argument planned. "It's gay night, Merlin, you know you love it. You haven't had a shag in at least two months now, have you? Plus, it's a pint and a shot for two quid in The Orange Tree tonight."
Hmm. That is a very good argument: the cheap drinks and the possibility of a shag. Merlin swivels around on his computer chair to look at his timetable, blu-tacked to the wall.
"It's been more like three. And it was shit. I've got lectures all afternoon tomorrow..." Merlin tells her, then opens up his day planner. "Oh fuck me, and a meeting at ten o'clock tomorrow to meet my new dissertation supervisor. She can't be any worse than bloody Frayn though, can she? Have you got any idea where room KP106 is?"
Gwen screws up her face in thought. "No, I haven't got a clue. KP... sounds like it'll be in the Engineering Department," she shudders.
"Fuck," Merlin says. He never ventures over that side of campus. "Why would it be all the way over there?"
"No idea. Have you got anything to show the new supervisor?" Gwen asks hopefully. She should know better and she flops down on his bed, stretching her toes.
Merlin groans, shaking his head. He saves his document, seeing as he hasn't actually changed anything on it apart from the footer all day, and clicks off of Word. iTunes pops up, and he selects a playlist from the sidebar. Lady Gaga starts to warble out of the speakers. "No, only the first chapter, and some wank notes for chapter two which don't want to actually become a chapter. Maybe she'll actually be able to tell me where I'm going wrong."
"You really need to find out her name."
"I know," Merlin whines. "Frayn just told me to be in KP106 at ten a.m. tomorrow to meet her. I don't even know what to bring, or ... anything really."
"We said this year was going to be different now we're post-grad's," Gwen comments. She gets up and starts rummaging around on the top shelf of Merlin's wardrobe, underneath numerous hoodies, sweatshirts and jumpers. All too necessary for when the heating inevitably packs up in the middle of January when it starts to snow.
“We say that after every year,” Merlin sighs. “What are you looking for?”
“Thought you had some vodka stashed in here,” Gwen replies.
“It’s underneath the shoes on the left hand side,” Merlin tells her.
“Changed the hiding place?” Gwen asks.
“I remembered last time I was drunk.” If Merlin came into the house after a couple too many drinks and remembered where he’d hidden the rest of the vodka, he tended to drag it out and drink it. Even if he was on his own. Hiding it or finishing it before he went out were the only options.
Gwen shudders, but drags out a half empty bottle from between an ill-advised purchase of fake Uggs and some flip flops. She sits back on Merlin’s bed. “That morning you looked a bit like you were already dead?”
“Yeah.”
They sit in silence for a few seconds as Lady Gaga sings Roma ro ma ma ma....
“Showers, then?” Merlin asks.
“Yeah,” Gwen says, and there is a flurry of motion as the two of them scurry off to ready themselves for the night to come.
It’s an hour later when Gwen appears back in his room, the bottle of vodka now accompanied by some flat Coke she found in the fridge. It’s not the worse they’ve had, they once had to resort to orange squash. And, of course, Gwen looks beautiful. In just an hour she’s managed to shower, do something to her hair to make it all shiny and curly, as well as put make-up on and squeeze into a dress so tiny Merlin thinks it may cause her to be arrested for indecent exposure.
Merlin’s had a shower, and is still staring into the depths of his wardrobe, looking for a top. He’s managed the jeans. A large amount of his clothes have ended up strewn across his room. There’s a jumper perilously close to a pint of water.
“Help,” he says, waving his hand vaguely.
Gwen tuts, and thrusts a glass into his hand. She pulls out a t-shirt that isn’t too wrinkly, and throws it at him. He slides it on, and fumbles around for some socks, and somehow manages to find two that match. Well. They’re both blue. One may have robots on. The other may not.
Merlin sinks into his computer chair. “Do you want to do my hair while you’re at it?”
With only a small glance which Merlin reads as, ‘dear God, you are pathetic, but I feel sorry for you with your big ears, and failed dissertation so, yes, yes I will do your hair’, Gwen picks up a tub of wax. She scoops out a handful, warming it between her hands before threading her fingers through Merlin’s hair.
“I love you,” Merlin tells her as he inspects the work of art that is now his hair.
“Save it for later,” Gwen tells him, and the two of them begin to drink the vodka and flat Coke, listening to a terrifyingly odd mix of music that surprises Merlin when it blasts from his speakers. It’s about an hour later that they stagger down the stairs, Gwen to slip on some obscenely high shoes which make her almost the same height at Merlin, and Merlin to find some shoes he hasn’t worn while walking through a field.
They’re almost at the front door when Merlin has a thought.
“Shit,” he lies. “Think my ID card is upstairs, back in a second.” He bounds up the stairs, leaving Gwen sipping the end of her drink.
What Merlin is actually doing when he shuts the door behind him, is preparing in case Gwen is right and he does get what he wants out of tonight - a fit man in his bed, telling Merlin to kiss him, suck him, ride him, fuck him. Yes. A man can dream. He raises his hand and murmurs a few words. His messy room begins to right itself, his clothes flying back to the wardrobe and doors, his books going back to the shelf, and DVDs back in their cases. He wants to make a good impression after all.
As an afterthought, Merlin finds his lube and condoms and puts them in at the front of his underwear drawer. Just in case of course.
“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen says a couple of hours later. She leans her chin on his shoulder. “I’m drunk.”
Merlin laughs, and turns in her arms. “I know. Me too.”
“Not as drunk as me.”
“I don’t think anyone in the world is drunker than you.”
“Lance is here,” Gwen says, pulling away from Merlin. There’s a small smile on her face, and Merlin can see her eyes darting around the huge room, looking for him.
“Well, what are you talking to me for?” Merlin asks, and laughs as Gwen wanders off, weaving through the crowds of people on the dance floor and around the bars to find her on-again off-again boyfriend.
“Sending your girl off to another man?” comes a voice from behind Merlin.
He whirls around to see a man, a tall, blond, tanned, fucking gorgeous (maybe slightly older) man, leaning against the bar. He looks like all of Merlin’s wet dreams and wank fantasies rolled into one.
“You’re talking me to me?” Merlin asks.
The man smiles, and Merlin sees his eyes are flickering down to the rainbow band around Merlin’s wrist. In that second Merlin knows without a doubt that somewhere, even if he’s not wearing it, this bloke has a rainbow wristband, necklace, badge, socks, something.
“I am.”
Merlin takes a few steps over, standing next to him at the bar. A little taller than him, broad shoulders, strong hands. Yes.
“She’s not my girl,” Merlin tells him. “That’s Gwen. She’s my roommate. And that bloke she’s snogging is her boyfriend.”
“Ahh,” the man says. His breath is suddenly near Merlin’s ear, warm and lovely so he can hear his deep voice properly. “So she’s Gwen. Who are you?”
Merlin turns to look at him, and their faces are close, oh so close, and it’s barely a breath when he says, “Merlin.”
A smile spreads over the other man’s face, and it sends a shiver down Merlin’s spine. “I’m Arthur.”
“Oh God,” Merlin laughs. “I’ve not met an Arthur around my age before.”
Arthur’s eyes rake up and down Merlin, and his gaze makes Merlin feel exposed - naked. “I wouldn’t say I was quite your age,” Arthur murmurs and God, his voice. Fuck. Merlin wonders if five minutes after meeting is too soon to invite someone back to your house to fuck until you can’t see straight. He suspects it is.
Merlin shrugs. Okay, so maybe Arthur’s a few years older - surely no more than five or six. What does it matter? “Let’s not argue about numbers. Want a drink?”
Arthur smiles, flashing white teeth. Merlin notes with glee that his smile is utterly breathtaking, but not perfect because it’s slightly crooked and Merlin wants to lick each and every one of his teeth.
“Pint of Carling, please,” Arthur says and Merlin wrinkles his nose. If Arthur is having a pint, will he look like a completely ridiculous and entirely gay human being if he orders vodka and cranberry? He decides he will, and a few minutes later, when the barman reaches him, and Arthur has been standing behind him, pressing him against the bar, Merlin orders himself a Jack Daniels and coke.
Arthur takes his pint from Merlin’s hand, their fingers brushing. “Let’s go and sit down, yeah?”
Merlin follows Arthur, at a reasonable distance in order to check out his arse. It more than passes the test, looking lovely and round and perfect for Merlin to sink his teeth into.
They sit down, sliding to the back of a booth, their thighs just about touching as they sit.
A text beeps through onto his phone from Gwen.
“So how was it?” Arthur asks. He sips his drink, his eyes closing in what looks like pleasure as he swallows the first cool mouthful.
“How was what?”
“My arse when you were checking it out?”
Merlin lets out a bark of surprised laughter. “I was impressed.” Merlin tries to make a mental note that he needs to learn to be more subtle. Then again, Gwen has been telling him that for years that he’ll never manage it.
“I aim to please,” Arthur says, smiling that beautiful smile again.
“You make a habit of letting people look at your arse, then?” The words escape Merlin’s lips before he realises they could be taken as Merlin asking Arthur if he’s a prostitute. His brain-to-mouth filter works even worse after a few drinks.
Arthur looks thoughtful. “No, not everyone,” he says softly.
“Good,” Merlin says, and then drinks a huge gulp because fuck, if he could get any cheesier he probably would.
“Merlin!” someone falls into the booth.
“Hi, Gwen.” He shoots a look at Arthur, who is eyeing her curiously.
“I’m going back to Lance’s flat,” she tells him, nodding sincerely. Lance stands awkwardly to the side, holding Gwen’s bag and coat.
“That’s probably for the best.”
Gwen sighs and looks at Arthur. “We were going to go back to ours, but that’s not a good idea, is it?”
No, no it’s not. Not that Gwen hasn’t heard him being shagged before. Oh God, the teasing the next day had been so bad he’d contemplated becoming celibate. “It’s up to you.”
She blinks at him. “Nah, you’re well noisy when you’re drunk. See you tomorrow, Merlin.” Gwen lurches forwards, planting a kiss on the corner of his lips.
With that, Lance pulls her away, with a muttered, “Sorry,” in their direction.
Merlin turns to face the table, wondering whether he can ever look at Arthur again while his cheeks are burning quite so badly with embarrassment.
“Noisy, are you?” Arthur asks. When Merlin finally looks at him, Arthur’s lips are parted, his fingers catching the drips of condensation running down his nearly empty glass.
“Er... I have no idea how to answer that,” Merlin says honestly. Apart from the fact that the answer is yes. Merlin makes a lot of noise. He talks a lot. It’s who he is.
“She kissed you, too,” Arthur points out. Merlin is quite certain he detects a pout in his voice.
“Jealous?” Merlin retorts.
There’s a pause. “A little.”
“You can kiss me if you like,” Merlin says, and thinks, a whole lot more as well if that’s what Arthur wants.
Then, Arthur’s face is near his, his lips just centimetres away from Merlin’s. Merlin rests his hand on Arthur’s jean-clad thigh. There is nothing else Merlin can do but surge forward that last little bit of space, and kiss him. His lips... his lips feel amazing, sliding alongside Merlin’s, warm and soft and lovely.
“There’s something about you, Merlin… “ Arthur says as he pulls away. His hand rests on Merlin’s, and he threads their fingers together.
“Oh?” Merlin asks, pressing his lips to Arthur’s neck gently.
Arthur takes in a shuddering breath. “Not here, Merlin.”
“Okay,” Merlin says. “I live just... we can walk, or taxi...”
“Taxi,” Arthur nods, and pushes Merlin out of the booth. His hands circle Merlin’s waist, cradling his arse first before splaying his fingers across Merlin’s stomach as they walk.
They leave the club, Merlin keeps his head down to ignore the smirks they get from fellow students on the way out. Everyone knows exactly what they’re up to, what they’re about to do. A line of taxis wait outside, and Merlin tumbles into the first, muttering his address as Arthur follows him.
As hard as Merlin tries to get Arthur to feel him up in the back of a taxi, it doesn’t work. Merlin’s hands roam over Arthur’s strong thighs, dip beneath his knees, over his broad shoulders. Merlin presses his lips to Arthur’s cheek and wrists and neck, but Arthur just laughs, licks across Merlin’s cheekbone once and squirms away,
A text comes through from Gwen.
When the taxi pulls up outside Merlin’s house, Arthur thrusts a note through the tiny slot in the window separating them from the driver. He is pulled from the car, and Arthur is on him, against his back, muttering in his ear.
“Where’s the key, Merlin? Where’s the key, get it out, God, I can’t wait to get you alone, fucking hell...”
Merlin fumbles in the pockets of his jeans, his fingers finally curling around cool metal.
“It’s just down here,” Merlin says, tugging Arthur down an alley way to their back door. “I’m sorry...”
“What about?”
Merlin trips over the same brick he trips over every time when he comes down this stupid alleyway in the stupid dark.
“My er... rape alley. I’m not you know.”
“You’re not going to rape me?”
Merlin just laughs, and then - thank fuck - they’re at his back door and the key is turning (which is good, because sometimes the fucking things freezes when it’s cold, and today it is definitely very cold) and the door is open.
They stumble into the kitchen, and Arthur’s fingers are on him, plucking at the hem of his t-shirt, and Merlin flings it off as he pulls Arthur up the stairs.
A text comes through from Gwen.
This time, he silences his phone.
Soon, they’re in his bedroom, and Merlin pushes Arthur against the bed, climbing on top of him straddling Arthur’s thighs as he undoes the buttons of Arthur’s shirt.
He soon reveals Arthur’s chest, lovely and muscled with hair that Merlin can’t help but run his fingers through it. He brushes over one of Arthur’s nipples, and the body beneath Merlin’s thighs arches, and God, Merlin is so hard.
Arthur’s hands –big, strong, manly hands, that look like they could reduce Merlin to a broken, quivering mess – cradle his face. His thumbs brush across his cheekbones and they look at each other, just for a moment.
Then, Merlin begins to fights with Arthur’s shirt, pushing it off his shoulders, and fuck, can Merlin have sex with someone’s shoulders? Is that possible? If it is, Merlin is going to do it. But, Merlin thinks Arthur may be okay with that, as he has a sneaky suspicion that Arthur would quite like to come all over Merlin’s face, rubbing his come into the hollows of Merlin’s cheeks.
“I haven’t kissed you nearly enough,” Arthur says, and Merlin realises how very true that is. He leans down, presses his lips to Arthur’s, and is swept into a deep kiss. Arthur’s tongue slides alongside Merlin’s, his stubble rubbing against his cheek, and his cock hard against Merlin’s arse.
Jeans. Trousers. Too many clothes.
Merlin has to pull away because if they’re going to carry on with this, this glorious, lovely, wet, kissing, they need to be naked.
Fuck, he wishes that Arthur knew about his magic, because right now, he’s never needed anyone naked more in his entire fucking life.
Merlin rolls to the side, and starts on Arthur’s jeans, pulling at the buttons. Arthur swats him away before nudging him with his foot, and Merlin realises they’ve still got shoes on. They’ve still got shoes on, and Merlin’s about two minutes from coming with his shoes still on. He crawls down to pull Arthur’s expensive looking loafers from his feet, as well as his socks. The man even has beautiful toes. Merlin licks his ankle before realising that Arthur is pushing down his trousers, and his boxers, and Christ, he’s naked in Merlin’s bed. Merlin kicks off his own shoes, too.
He has to take a second to look. Merlin sits back on his heels and looks at the vision that is the man on his bed. His gorgeous face, his shoulders, his cock, arching from his body.
“Like what you see?” Arthur asks with a smirk.
Merlin can’t help but nod, because yes, yes he does like what he sees. Very much so. “Jesus fucking Christ, yes.”
“Take off your clothes,” Arthur says, and his teeth dig into the plump flesh of his lower lip. He props himself up on his elbows to watch.
Merlin clambers off the bed, and his fingers are shaking as he thumbs his button through the hole. His jeans slide down over his hips, because yeah, he is skinny. Maybe too skinny but it doesn’t matter because the way Arthur is looking at him is making him feel like he’s on top of the world. He kicks his jeans off before he rests his palm on his stomach.
“And the robot sock,” Arthur comments.
Merlin laughs, blushes and plucks off his socks, the robot one and the blue one, throwing them so they land on Arthur’s chest.
Arthur chucks them back, but they miss, landing on the bed. But then, they’re forgotten, because they’re both naked and there are things more important than robots.
“Come here,” Arthur says, and then he’s at the edge of the bed. Merlin steps forwards, and Arthur takes hold of his hips. Arthur’s grip is tight, his fingers and nails digging into Merlin’s skin. There will be bruises tomorrow, because well, Merlin bruises like a three day old peach.
Arthur pushes Merlin’s boxers down past his thighs, his knees, his calves until he has to step out of them. Then, Merlin’s cock is hanging in Arthur’s face, hot and hard and heavy.
Eyes wide and dark, Arthur looks up at Merlin, his lips parted. Just a few centimetres, and Merlin’s cock will be in his mouth. But soon, Merlin doesn’t have to imagine, as Arthur’s lips are around his cock, sucking, sucking so hard. Merlin moans, his hands curling in Arthur’s hair.
Through the mindless, amazing pleasure, Merlin pulls Arthur off his cock. He comes away with a whine.
“Condoms,” Merlin says breathlessly. “There are condoms in my drawer.”
Arthur looks at him blankly, his mouth opening to swallow Merlin down again.
No. As amazing as being sucked off and fucked and fucking without a condom feels, Merlin isn’t stupid enough to do that without protection with a guy he’s just met. No.
He crawls across the bed, Arthur’s hand slapping his backside once. He moans, pushing into the touch, but fumbles in his drawer anyway. The box is in his hand, and he tears off a sachet, throwing it back at Arthur. He tucks the box under his pillow, and as a second thought, the lube.
Merlin lies back on the bed and watches as Arthur rips open the packet. He slips it between his lips, looking up at Merlin. The air is tense between them as Arthur leans down, and slides the condom over Merlin’s cock with his lips.
Merlin’s cock is made for Arthur’s mouth. There is nothing else for it. The way Arthur just seems to know what Merlin likes, his tongue is always in the right place. Massaging the vein down his cock, dipping in the slip, twisting around the head, on his balls, oh fuck, everywhere. Merlin’s breath is coming fast, so loud.
“What do you want to happen?” Merlin asks. “You want to fuck me? You want me to fuck you? Or something else? My mouth on you... you have to let me do something, Arthur, I need to touch you.”
Arthur pulls off. “Will you fuck me?” he asks.
Blood surges to Merlin’s cock. “Really? You really want me to do that?”
“Yes, yes, fuck yes,” Arthur says.
“On your back,” Merlin orders.
Arthur complies, lying on his back. Merlin never thought this was going to be how today turned out. He’d thought, if he was going to have sex tonight, that he’d be the one on his back, getting fucked. Not that there was anything wrong with that - Merlin loved that. But this... this is different.
“Spread your legs.”
Merlin digs the lube out from under the pillow, and slicks up a finger. Reaching between Arthur’s legs, his strong muscles thighs, Arthur spreads his legs quickly and easily. Arthur pushes on Merlin’s finger when he finds the right spot to push inside him.
“Careful,” Arthur says, the words coming from his mouth like an explosion. “I don’t... do this very often.”
Merlin nods frantically. “Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be so fucking careful, and you’re going to be so fucking ready for me you’ll be begging me for it.”
Arthur lets out a strained laugh, “Yeah? Go on then. Prove it, Merlin.”
Merlin slips his finger the entire way inside Arthur finding little resistance, but the space is so tight that Merlin can’t help but wonder how on earth he’s ever going to fit himself in there. Arthur’s not relaxed.
“Put a condom on,” Merlin says. “Under the pillow.”
Arthur fumbles with the box as Merlin slides his finger in and out of Arthur’s arse. The packet falls from the box and Arthur picks it up, ripping another packet open and taking out the rubber, and sliding it over his dick.
Merlin puts his mouth over Arthur’s cock, sucking the head hard, the taste of rubber in the back of his throat as he slips another finger inside Arthur. The blow-job - Merlin doesn’t know if it’s the sucking or the licking or the fingers or what but it relaxes Arthur. So much so that his arse practically eats up Merlin’s second finger and his third. Merlin pushes his fingers in and out of Arthur’s arse, twisting and curling, ruthlessly fucking Arthur with his fingers. Arthur lets out a groan as Merlin hits his prostate, forcing himself up and down, needing more, more, more now.
Scissoring his fingers one final time, Merlin hears Arthur groaning from above him. With one hand, he rolls Arthur’s balls between his fingers before tugging them. He’s obviously close, but Merlin will kill him if Arthur comes before Merlin’s cock is inside him.
“Now, Merlin,” Arthur groans, and Merlin can’t do anything but do as he says. He pulls his mouth from Arthur’s cock and fingers from his arse.
Arthur lifts his legs, spreading them, as he pulls them back against his chest. “Fuck me,” Arthur breathes.
Merlin positions himself between Arthur’s legs, letting his ankles rest on his shoulders. He turns his head, sucking then biting at one ankle. His cock, aching so much by now, rubs between Arthur’s arse cheeks, the lube easing his way. With a push, Merlin finds the head of his cock buried in Arthur.
There’s a groan, and Merlin isn’t surprised to find that it was him.
Arthur lets out a chuckle of weak laughter beneath him. Sweat glistens on his forehead and his teeth bite into his bottom lip. He rocks his hips, and Merlin slips further in. “Fuck,” Arthur says.
Merlin takes it as an order even though it’s probably not one. He pushes forwards and he’s buried completely in Arthur, his balls brushing Arthur’s perfect round arse.
“Oh yes,” Merlin moans, “yes, yes, yes...”
“God, you are noisy,” Arthur laughs. “Come on fuck me, Merlin, do it.”
And Merlin does. He thrusts in and out of the deep, hot pressure that is Arthur’s arse as he watches Arthur discard of his own condom and take his cock in his hand. The sight of Arthur wanking himself off sends a surge of lust and arousal through Merlin’s stomach and straight to his cock.
“Oh Jesus,” Merlin whines. His hips stutter as his orgasm starts to creep over him, consuming him without even a whisper of a hint. “Fuuuuck,” he moans as his hips push against Arthur’s for one last time and he comes.
Merlin sags against Arthur as his orgasm finishes. He presses his lips against Arthur’s damp shoulder.
“Merlin,” he moans.
Merlin rolls to the side and takes Arthur’s cock in his hand. It barely takes three strokes until Arthur is coming, too. He arches off the bed, fingers buried in the sheets, toes curled and head thrown from side to side.
“God, you’re beautiful,” Merlin sighs, and he settles into Arthur’s side, sucking a hickey into the side of Arthur’s neck.
Arthur laughs, and Merlin doesn’t know what about, because he’s falling asleep, but Arthur does something with the condoms, and wipes a damp cloth over the two of them. Then, they both fall asleep.
They have sex twice before the morning (once, Merlin finds himself on his back, Arthur riding his cock, and secondly, Merlin is fucked so thoroughly, he can’t quite remember whether he was on his back, on top, upside down or what, and it doesn’t matter). Merlin wakes up alone, having rolled over in the night, and finds Arthur’s note - with his phone number - stuck to his face.
He pulls out his phone. 8.45 am. He’s got his meeting at ten, and if he doesn’t have a shower - and maybe be a little bit sick - his new tutor will know exactly what he got up to last night.
He glances through the four texts from Gwen.
Oh dear God. Merlin tries not to think too much about why Arthur left without saying goodbye - he did leave his number after all. It’s not easy to stop thinking completely, as well, his arse aches and his jaw aches and well, he’s just very, very well fucked right about now.
The shower makes him feel an awful lot better, as well as clean clothes, three packets of ready salted crisps and a pint of orange juice as he walks the miles and miles to his stupid meeting. He just about remembers all his notes.
The walk takes a lot longer than Merlin would have liked, but it clears his head and he even thinks he’ll be able to have an intelligent conversation.
Merlin knocks on the door (which takes so bloody long to find and is in the Engineering department) and hears a muffled voice say, “Come in.”
There, in his dissertation tutors seat - that was meant to be a woman, thank you very fucking much - is Arthur all wide-eyed and slack jawed.
“Right. M. Emyrs, I presume?” Arthur sighs, reaches into his desk and pulls out some type of form, the kind that comes in triplicate and Merlin usually sits and plays with to see it copy and copy and copy. He points a pen in Merlin’s direction and says, “Sign here please.”
“What?” Merlin thinks he’s misheard or maybe he hasn’t even woken up yet this morning and this is all a bad dream. His next thought is that Arthur is a fucking prat who is making him sign some sort of waiver so Arthur doesn’t get his arse sued.
“It’s a transfer form, Merlin.” Arthur’s tone is this sort of fond annoyance that makes Merlin’s cheeks heat and feel oh so very very naked. “I’m not planning on giving up on another chance to shag you. So we’ll find you another tutor. Is this how you scared the last one off? Anyway, I think Gauis will do nicely. Not much chance of you picking him up at a bar and seducing him back to your freezing cold house.”
“I most definitely did not shag Frayn. She’s a witch! And excuse me! You picked me up!”
“Shut up and sign the paper, Merlin.”
Merlin scribbles his name beside the ‘X’ and pushes it back towards Arthur. “Does this mean we aren’t meeting?”
“Yes. Go home and work on your Dissertation, you dosser.” Arthur lazes back in his chair. Merlin's mouth waters. All he wants to do is fall to his knees, crawl across the floor and suck Arthur’s cock. Again.
So he turns and locks the door and wonders just how noisy he can make Arthur be, sitting at his desk with Merlin’s lips stretched wide around him.
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