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The thing is, Arthur thinks, the thing is that Merlin’s composed of so many strange, unattractive features and yet the whole is something intrinsically beautiful. The fool boy is a beautiful amalgamation of too-large ears and too-pale lips and too-skinny arms and god, god , Arthur loves him.
In moments like this, with Merlin pliant and soft and sweet beneath him, limbs sprawled over his bed with all the elegance of a bale of hay, Arthur can feel a fierce joy rising inside his ribcage, pressing hard against his lungs and making his heart pound that much faster, blood rushing to the forefront of his skin. It makes the palms of his hands slick with sweat and he grasps at Merlin’s thighs tighter, pressing purple bruises and love and protection into fish-belly white flesh in calculated movements, lips following the hot trail tenderly.
Merlin’s getting restless, now, limbs rasping across Arthur’s sheets with a soft susurration of sound. Arthur, he murmurs, voice sex-drenched and hoarse with wanting. He reached out a hand to Arthur, long fingers wrapping around his wrist with surprising strength, tugging and pulling, a high whine rising in the back of his throat.
Arthur looks up and grins, mouth wet and swollen and as bloody-red as the Pendragon crest. Yes, sweet, he whispers into Merlin’s neck. Patience, love , he kisses into Merlin’s hairline, and Soon, my own, he promises into Merlin’s ear and Merlin gasps wetly, wrenching at Arthur until the other man collapses against Merlin’s chest.
Merlin nudges his nose across the flushed skin of Arthur’s cheek, smudges his lips against the bridge of Arthur’s nose and smiles before he kisses Arthur properly, a lush, wet press of lips and tongue and teeth that he knows better than he knows anything, anyone, else.
God, god , please. Please, Arthur, Merlin cries, and Arthur shushes him, pulls calloused thumbs down the salt-slick bones in Merlin’s cheek, then continues down his chest in a heavy drag, pausing to flick at taut nipples before his hands clasp around the meat of Merlin’s thighs and push up and out.
Arthur neatly shoves his shoulders beneath the right angle of Merlin’s thighs and calves, the damp vee of his knees pressing into his neck. He moans a little to himself, one arm braced across Merlin’s belly, and he ducks down, blowing a cool stream of air across where Merlin wants him most. He licks, lewd and wet, and delights in Merlin’s groan, the jerk of his hips. He’s so involved in sucking and licking, his tongue curved into a hard point, that he misses Merlin’s hissed words in the old language, misses the golden flash of his eyes, and twitches in surprise as he tastes the bitter oil they use, smeared messy around Merlin’s hole.
Arthur looks up and Merlin has one arm flung over his eyes, heaving huge breaths through his heaving chest, and Merlin begs Now, now, now, god damn you, please, And Arthur nods, presses his lips against Merlin’s briefly, clinging, and rolls his forehead against Merlin’s jutting collarbones as he slowly presses in, groaning at the wet, grasping heat and Merlin hiccoughs in pleasure, his arms coming to wrap around Arthur tight, tighter, tightest.
Gods, Arthur curses, twining his fingers with Merlin’s, and he pulls out and presses in again, breath shuddering out. They fall into a rhythm, up and down on a wave of energy and tight, sweltering heat, and Arthur holds out as long as he can, waiting until Merlin’s lost his words, gasping and whining for breath even as his fingertips skitter sparks across Arthur’s skin.
Then Merlin shouts out, eyes drifting closed, and his body tightens around Arthur as he comes helplessly, fingers pressing bruises into the sun-pinked skin of Arthur’s shoulders. Arthur grunts, stilling above Merlin, and jerks once, twice, again into Merlin, taking his own pleasure as the fey boy lolls, drunk on pleasure and radiating joy.
When Arthur finally crumples to Merlin’s side, the other boy wastes no time in rolling into the curve of Arthur’s body, the long, lithe length of him pressed tightly against muscle and sinew, and Arthur wraps his arms around him, presses his lips to his hair, and closes his eyes against the brightness of the fire, fingers tangling with Merlin’s.