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The first time Arthur and Merlin fucked, there was a bit of a problem.
“For God's sakes, Merlin!” Arthur roared.
Merlin didn't actually register this as Arthur's Displeased Voice right away, because at that moment he was coming rather spectacularly as he worked himself on Arthur's cock. He hadn't even touched himself, and Arthur certainly hadn't touched him, being, Merlin supposed, above pandering to the hired help. Good thing, then, that Arthur was well-endowed and otherwise a fabulous shag, not that Merlin would ever tell him this.
He got the message, however, when Arthur shoved him off and onto the mattress, where he lay dumbfounded for a few seconds as he twitched from the aftershocks. Like he said: fabulous.
“Well, don't just lie there like a landed fish!” Arthur snapped, and now Merlin was finally starting to register the tone of voice. “Go get something to clean me up with!”
Merlin frowned at him. He pushed himself up on an elbow, and noticed that Arthur's belly and parts of his chest were liberally spattered with Merlin's spunk. “You, erm, you do realise that tends to happen when you do what we just did, right?”
Arthur shoved at him again, and Merlin grumbled, “Alright, alright, keep your pa – never mind.” Bouncing off the bed, he became irrationally annoyed when his knees wobbled a little. Apparently Arthur was as much of a pillock in bed as he was out of it, and the realisation – while not totally unexpected – was surprisingly disappointing.
Padding over to the table, Merlin retrieved the cloth he'd been planning to use to shine Arthur's armour and turned back toward the bed. What he saw shocked him: Arthur was staring down at himself, and as Merlin watched, he trailed a finger across his belly and shivered. Merlin's breath caught in his throat, and Arthur's head snapped up, eyes wide and almost frightened.
And then the moment was gone; Arthur's expression hardened, and he snapped his fingers at Merlin as though he were summoning one of his dogs. Sighing, Merlin resisted the impulse to toss the cloth in Arthur's face, and returned to do his master's bidding.
The next time, Arthur seemed to have devised a solution that worked for him. Luckily, it worked for Merlin, too.
“Oh, gods,” Merlin gasped, as Arthur eased into him from behind. He tightened his grip on the bedpost and leaned his forehead against the cool, smooth wood.
“Good?” Arthur asked, breath against his ear.
Merlin clamped his mouth shut around the groan trying to escape, and Arthur nipped at his earlobe. “Answer me.”
Merlin gritted his teeth. “You – know it is,” he panted. “So why d'you – even – ask?”
Arthur drew back and shoved into him, hard, and Merlin's forehead whacked against the post. “Ow! Fuck!”
Arthur stilled immediately. “Did I hurt you?” His hands came up to cradle Merlin's hips. “Merlin?”
Momentarily surprised by Arthur's concern, Merlin shook his head. “No, s'fine. Come on, just –” He settled back against Arthur's thighs, feeling him slide all the way in, and it was – oh, it was too much and not enough all at once. How was that possible?
Arthur began to thrust again, swiftly building to a punishing pace that had Merlin whimpering shamelessly, and when he bit down on Merlin's shoulder, Merlin gasped and shook and came all over the bedpost. Arthur's hand swept down his chest to his belly, and then he was following Merlin over, hips stuttering.
Merlin blinked when he realised his head had flopped back against Arthur's shoulder. “Sorry, erm,” he said, lifting his head. “I suppose you'll be wanting me to clean that up.”
“There's no rush,” Arthur murmured, hand still splayed across Merlin's belly. Merlin closed his eyes and let himself lean.
“I think –” Merlin panted, head tipping back against the stone wall with a thunk “– I think you'd better stop.”
Arthur's grip tightened on Merlin's wrists, which were pinned above his head, while his other hand continued its lazy, devastating stroking of Merlin's cock. It was the middle of the afternoon, and with Gaius out on a call and Arthur at the training ground, Merlin had had an hour to himself. He'd just had a wash and had been drying himself when Arthur had appeared in the doorway. He'd stared at Merlin for a moment, then crossed Merlin's room in two strides and pushed him against the wall. “And why should I do that?” Arthur drawled, the question not really a question, because Mister Bloody Crown Prince was used to getting his way in everything.
“Because – oh – because I'm about to come.”
Arthur's teeth bit down gently on the tip of Merlin's chin, then slightly less gently on his lower lip. “I thought that was rather the point of the exercise.”
“You don't like it when I get my – gods, yes, just like that – commoner's spunk on your person, remember?”
“Merlin?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up,” Arthur said, and sped his stroke just enough to send Merlin up and over, hips pistoning as he spurted. And this time it wasn't as messy, which was just as well considering Arthur was still fully clothed and Merlin wouldn't have liked to have been sent scurrying off to the laundry right then. But when Merlin looked down, he saw that Arthur's hand, of course, was wet, in fact almost dripping with Merlin's seed.
There was no loud and obnoxious complaint this time; instead, Arthur released him without a word and reached for the towel lying discarded on the bed. Before he could manage it, however, some devil in Merlin compelled him to grab Arthur's hand and draw it to his mouth. Closing his eyes so as not to see Arthur's reaction, he swept his tongue across Arthur's knuckles and waited, breathless.
Arthur didn't pull his hand away.
Merlin's tongue darted out again and curled over Arthur's index finger, making Arthur gasp; encouraged, Merlin sucked the whole finger into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Arthur breathed, as Merlin lavished the same treatment on the rest of his fingers. By the time Arthur's hand was clean, Arthur was shoving Merlin down to his knees and fumbling frantically with the buttons on his breeches, and Merlin smiled against the soft, soft skin of Arthur's cock as he dragged his lips over it.
“I take back everything I ever said about your incompetence,” Arthur told him, annoyingly smug as he looked down at Merlin. “As it happens, you truly are rather talented.”
Merlin shifted his ankles on Arthur's shoulders, and briefly contemplated throttling him with them. “I think the word you're searching for is flexible,” Merlin said, trying for some smugness of his own.
Arthur's eyes narrowed, and then he did some kind of brilliant swively-twisty thing with his hips that forced a groan from Merlin's lips. “I think the word I'm searching for is 'shut it.'”
“That's – two words, sire,” Merlin growled, tightening his arse around Arthur's cock, and then it was on; Arthur pounded him mercilessly, and Merlin met him stroke for stroke, writhing in Arthur's arms, hand fisting in Arthur's hair and tugging him down roughly to kiss him. When he was close, Merlin reached down to jerk himself off, and then it was a mad, furious race to the finish, both of them panting harshly into one another's mouths.
Arthur pulled back, and Merlin's legs slipped from his shoulders. “Oh, bugger, I can't feel my toes,” Merlin complained, and then he looked up and saw Arthur staring down at himself, or rather at his belly, which was smeared with Merlin's come.
Merlin tensed, all the air leaving his lungs in a rush of disappointment; he'd thought they were over this part – and then Arthur took a finger, trailed it over his skin, lifted it to his mouth and licked it experimentally. And then Arthur leaned down and began lapping the spunk off Merlin's belly like a cat.
“Nrgl,” Merlin said, or something similarly profound, because suddenly he was as aroused as he'd been before the orgasm, and every ounce of brain seemed to have gone sailing out his ears. By the time Arthur was done, Merlin's cock was eagerly poking him in the chin. Usually this would have earned him a reprimand, but Arthur seemed to be feeling generous, because he sucked the swollen tip into his mouth and then Merlin may have blacked out a little. Or, you know, a lot.
“You really are a girl,” Arthur said afterward, grinning down at Merlin. “A great, fainting girl.”
“Pleased with yourself, then?” Merlin asked, unable to keep an answering grin off his own face.
“Hugely,” Arthur murmured, flopping onto the mattress beside him.
Merlin rolled toward him, then after a moment's hesitation, reached up to brush a finger across Arthur's lips. Arthur's eyes fluttered shut, and Merlin's throat tightened. “Well, I suppose I'd better –”
“Stay,” Arthur said, eyes still closed.
“Stay?” Merlin parroted, gobsmacked.
Arthur's eyes flew open then. “Are you deaf, Merlin?”
“Not to my knowledge,” Merlin said, biting back a smile.
“Well, then?”
By way of answer, Merlin settled with his head on Arthur's shoulder, and after a moment, Arthur's arm came up to hold him in a loose embrace.
“That's better,” Arthur grumbled.
“Yeah,” Merlin said, already drowsy from being so close to Arthur's warmth.