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Merlin lay spread out on Arthur’s bed, limbs outstretched towards the corners. His boots had been carelessly kicked off hours ago, and his tunic was crumpled next to him. He didn’t have the energy to toss it to the ground.
He was hot. Hotter than he could ever remember being. Sweat dampened his hair and slid down his temples. It pooled in the small of his back and gathered between his legs. He spread himself out more, trying to escape the warmth of his own skin.
He was supposed to be cleaning Arthur’s floor. Or maybe it was changing the bed linens. Merlin groaned. He was probably supposed to be undenting Arthur’s spare armor. But the summer heat had saturated the castle and Merlin couldn’t find it within him to do any strenuous work. He felt slow and heavy just lying on the bed, where his own body heat soaked into the linens underneath his lax form and reached up, smothering him and making him even hotter. And yet, despite his discomfort, he didn’t move.
The door banged open behind him and Arthur stormed in. From the metallic clanging he made when he moved, Merlin could tell he was wearing his full armor. He would be in a foul mood, then. That armor held onto the summer heat. He imagined he could feel the heat of Arthur’s armor from his place on the bed, and he didn’t want to ponder how uncomfortable Arthur must be.
“Merlin, what are you doing?”
Merlin raised his head and looked over his shoulder at Arthur. “It’s hot.”
Arthur scowled. “Yes, it is. It’s hot for everyone. But we’re all still working.”
“Gwen’s not. She and Morgana are sitting in the banquet hall eating strawberries. I saw them.”
Arthur sighed, but didn’t press the issue. He must be more exhausted and drained from the heat than Merlin had first realized. He only tossed his sword carelessly on the table - the clanging echoed off the walls - and said, “Help me take off this armor.”
Merlin groaned, but pushed himself up. The sweat on his skin made the bed linens cling to his face and chest. He knew he had imprints on his face from where the linens had pressed against him. He scrubbed a hand over his cheek roughly, doubting it made a difference.
The metal of Arthur’s armor was hot to the touch and Merlin hissed as his fingertips burned. He quickly unbuckled Arthur’s gorget and pauldron while Arthur worked on the vambraces. The belt was next, then Merlin helped slide the hauberk over his head. Arthur groaned in relief when the hot metal was off of him, and he breathed harshly as if he had just come up from underwater and was tasting air for the first time in much too long. When Merlin finally removed the thick gambeson and the undershirt, leaving Arthur in only his trousers, Arthur let his head fall forward as he braced himself on the table, a small, hiccuping sob escaping his throat as the layers of insulation were finally stripped away.
Merlin ran a hand lightly across Arthur’s back. His skin was slick with sweat and emanating heat. It was as if he still wore his armor, the heat blistering outwards, making Arthur shake with the intensity of it all.
Merlin leaned over and pressed a kiss to one shoulder blade, the salt from Arthur’s sweat making his lips tingle pleasantly. “I’ll have some water sent for.” Arthur nodded his approval and Merlin went to the hall, ordering the first servant he saw to bring two pitchers of the coldest water possible to the prince’s chambers.
He took a towel and began gently swiping the soft fabric along the skin of Arthur’s back, blowing lightly over the skin and tracing his hand through the path of his breath. Arthur’s muscles twitched under his fingers, and he could feel some of the tension leaving as Arthur sagged and dropped to his elbows.
“Long day?” Merlin asked.
Arthur snorted and, if possible, his body drooped even more. Merlin frowned. He wasn’t used to seeing Arthur like this. But the heat of the day had been intense, and Arthur had been in his armor for hours. He was hesitant to touch Arthur too much, fearing that his own body heat would just make Arthur more uncomfortable, but he longed to wrap himself around Arthur and offer him a modicum of comfort.
A knock sounded. Merlin swept his hand through Arthur’s damp hair, allowing the air to filter through the strands, before he went to the door to retrieve the water from the serving boy. He poured the water into a bowl and soaked the towel before rubbing the cool cloth across overheated skin. Arthur groaned and arched into the touch. His body moved with his inhale, muscles clenching and relaxing as he groaned his relief.
“Gods, Merlin,” he said. He rolled his shoulders, trying to work out his own knots, and Merlin chuckled and placed a hand on Arthur’s back.
“Shh,” he hushed. He put the towel to the side and dipped his hands into the water, then began to knead Arthur’s shoulders, thumbs digging into knots, fingertips teasing along the golden expanse of skin. He leaned over and blew gently on the nape of Arthur’s neck.
Arthur shuddered and his skin goosepimpled. He sagged, and Merlin maneuvered him into his chair, pushing at shoulders to get him to lean forward against the table, his head cushioned by his folded arms.
“How are the knights today?” Merlin asked.
He felt more than saw Arthur shrug. “I don’t know,” he said. He straightened and reached out, pulling Merlin towards him. Merlin moved himself until he was standing between Arthur’s legs and cradling Arthur’s head in his arms. He threaded his fingers through the damp hair that curled around the back of Arthur’s neck and Arthur pressed his face into Merlin’s bare stomach, his breath tickling along exposed skin as he spoke. “Leon’s a force to be reckoned with, but the others are too young, too new. They fight well, but I don’t think they could handle an actual battle.”
“They will be able to, when the times come,” Merlin said. He bent and pressed his lips against Arthur’s forehead. “You’ll make sure they’re ready.”
Arthur turned his face upwards while his arms wrapped around Merlin’s upper back and pulled him down, forcing him into Arthur’s lap. Arthur buried his face in the crook of Merlin’s neck and mumbling something too soft and too muffled for Merlin to make out. When he pulled Merlin snug against his body, his arms wound tightly around his waist, Merlin wondered if they would melt into a puddle on the floor - too overheated with the sun at its zenith - and become indistinguishable from each other. He smiled into Arthur’s hair. It would certainly be an odd take on destiny.
“Hm?”
Arthur pulled back just the smallest bit. “I said I don’t want them to be ready.”
Merlin frowned but nodded, understanding. He knew how much it hurt Arthur to see his knights lose that innocent, boyish look, when their lips tightened and they smiled less until they eventually stopped smiling altogether, and lines began to appear on their faces, their brows, and the area under their eyes darkened because their nightmares wouldn’t let them sleep. Faces became gaunt because the knights were too weary and heartbroken to even eat, and they looked tired, so tired, tired of life. He knew his own face looked like that sometimes, and he knew Arthur blamed himself. Not even Merlin’s kisses rid Arthur of this pain.
He tipped Arthur’s head back and tried anyway, captured his lips, tasting the salt of sweat as they lost themselves in the taste of each other, the lazy slide of tongue against tongue and the pressure of teeth as they pressed closer to each other, not wanting the moment to ever be over. Hands traced bare skin, and Merlin’s fingers skimmed along Arthur’s side, dancing along his ribs and curling around his waist, sliding easily along the skin there. His hands slid up and up until they were hooked over Arthur’s shoulders, and he pulled Arthur against himself, rotating his hips slowly, minutely, but deliberately, the way Arthur liked it, the way that broke Arthur into a million pieces as he searched for his own release in the sanctuary of Merlin’s body.
“Merlin,” Arthur gasped eons later when they broke for air. “Please.”
Merlin pressed a close-mouthed kiss to Arthur’s lips, then nodded and stood, pulling Arthur with him. They moved to the bed. Arthur groaned when Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and their trousers loosed themselves, falling to pool around their feet and nearly sending Merlin stumbling onto the stone floor. Arthur caught him and they both laughed, then kissed until they were lost in each other again and all thoughts of laughter had vanished. With mouths still connected and tongues intertwined, Merlin pushed Arthur into the bed and climbed on top, straddling hips larger than his own and settling his half-hardened cock next to Arthur’s.
Arthur arched at the touch, a whimper sounding low in his throat as he laid back and stretched over the bed linens, arms loosely flung out to his sides and eyes staring dazedly upwards. Merlin marveled at the image he presented. Arthur was beautiful, every muscle perfectly sculpted, his skin unblemished and golden, flushed pink lips parting to reveal deliciously uneven teeth and the barest hint of the wicked tongue within. But when he lay spread under Merlin, relaxed against the bed linens and needy for his touch, Merlin thought him ethereal. He wanted to look, to touch, to take. He wanted to sink into Arthur and merge their bodies and their souls until no one was able to separate them.
“Gods, Arthur,” he murmured, one hand skimming the muscles of Arthur’s chest and watching them tremble at his touch. “Look at you.”
His hand traveled lower and he ran his fingernails along the edges of their cocks, watching in fascination as Arthur’s cock filled and flushed before his very eyes. He didn’t try to suppress a groan as Arthur hardened for him.
Arthur reached up. His hand curled around the nape of Merlin’s neck, and he pulled him down, their lips sliding together for another slow, slippery kiss. Their lips were slick and slid over each other’s easily, slotting together like their bodies had been built to compliment the other. Merlin laid his hand over Arthur’s heart, relishing in the steady thump, the proof that Arthur was there, spread out for him, trusting him as Arthur had never trusted before.
The heat pressed in on them, pushing their bodies closer together. Merlin sank into the warmth of Arthur’s flesh. They were sweating, the sweat slicking where their bodies touched. Their chests slid easily together where the sweat pooled and stuck stickily where the sweat dried as if even their skin couldn’t bear to be parted.
This close to Arthur, Merlin could smell the heat in his skin, the sweat that clung to him, the metal he’d been wrapped in, the sun that shone on him. He drank it in, inhaling without breaking their kiss, immersing himself in the scent, the essence, that shaped and formed Arthur’s being.
“Merlin,” Arthur moaned into the kiss.
Merlin broke away and nosed his way across Arthur’s jaw, licking the area behind his ear. He smiled. “I’ve got you.”
He rested his weight on Arthur’s broad chest, one hand cupping Arthur’s jaw as he kissed him again and the other moving from their cocks to gently twist one of Arthur’s nipples, scraping it with a fingernail, then soothing it with light, almost tickling touches until Arthur’s breath was hitching in his throat and he broke the kiss to take a few heaving gulps of air.
“Merlin.” His voice was breathy, husky, and needy. Merlin shimmied down until Arthur’s erection pressed against his navel and the tip of his own cock spread precome along the bottom of Arthur’s sac. He shifted, pressing one knee between Arthur’s legs, encouraging him to spread them and open himself up. Arthur did, leaning back and resting his head on a pillow, letting Merlin move his legs. He bent them up and spread them wide, exposing all those secret areas – the taunt skin beneath his sac, the hole nestled tightly between his cheeks. Arthur bared himself without hesitation, and Merlin tipped his head, pressing a grateful kiss to his inner knee and rubbing his cheek against the skin there.
Arthur groaned and tilted his hips, and Merlin ran his hands down the insides of Arthur’s thighs and listened to him sigh. Scars littered his body, some small, some large. Merlin knew the origin of a few, but most had become old and faded long before he showed up on Gaius’s doorstep with only a bedroll and a letter. He traced one with his thumb, a jagged one on the inside edge of Arthur’s kneecap where his lips had pressed just moments before. He sees it every time they retreat to the solitude of their bed, and he always wonders how long it took for Arthur to regain his ability to walk without a limp after the injury. He never asks, because he knows Arthur would tell him even though he’d rather not, but sometimes, in the quiet moments, he lets himself envy Arthur’s strength of will and the power he commands. He doesn’t need magic. Arthur can do anything.
He kissed the scar again, a brief touch of lips to skin. Arthur’s leg twitched but he remained silent, staring at the ceiling, letting the weight of his body pull him into the bed.
Merlin moved further down until his mouth lay next to Arthur’s groin. He pressed his face into the crease where Arthur’s leg met his hip and his scent was the headiest. He inhaled. The coarse hair surrounding Arthur’s cock tickled his cheek, and the sweat that had gathered in his groin moistened his face where skin met skin. He opened his mouth and licked, tasting the salt. Arthur gasped, and Merlin reached one hand up, laying it on Arthur’s cock, a reassuring pressure. He thumbed at the slit and his fingers traced the vein. Arthur squirmed and gasped, and Merlin felt one of his hands thread through his hair, pulling him insistently upwards, trying to get his mouth to where his need was strongest.
Merlin inhaled again, memorizing the scent, and took one last lick before allowing himself to be guided. Arthur’s cock was thick and long and a dark, flushed red, and Merlin loved it. The taste, the smell, the way its heavy weight felt on his tongue…
He leaned downed and licked a stripe up the underside. Arthur arched under him. His eyes opened wide and he gripped the bed linens tightly in his fists, squeezing until his knuckles were white when Merlin began to suckle on the tip, his teeth scraping ever so lightly on the edge of the head.
Merlin hadn’t been with any men before Arthur had taken him to his bed, so he had no basis of comparison, but he always thought Arthur’s cock was extremely sensitive. Tonguing his slit would cause Arthur to harden immediately, the pressure of his hand fisting it would cause Arthur to buck and writhe, and when Merlin took him all the way in, swallowed his cock like he was starving and sucking hard even as his throat bulged around the flesh lodged within it, Arthur would sob and pull at Merlin’s hair, losing all control and giving in to his instincts.
Merlin grinned around the head of Arthur’s cock. As sensitive as his prick was, it didn’t compare to his hole. Merlin pulled back and pressed his lips to the slit of Arthur’s cock, an imitation of a kiss, while at the same time he rubbed a teasing finger around the edge of Arthur’s entrance, a promise of what was to come, what had been, and what would always be.
Arthur let go of the blankets and covered his mouth with his hands, his moans muffled behind his fists. Merlin let just the head of his cock slip past his lips, suckling it and rubbing his tongue under the head, greedily tasting the precome that gathered there and moaning as the precious fluid slid over his tongue, igniting his taste buds.
Arthur moved his hands to cover his face, pressing over his eyes as his lips parted and gasps of air slipped between them. “Please, more,” he begged. “I just— Please!”
Merlin released Arthur’s cock. He sat up and leaned back, his finger easing inside just a bit, but not too much. Too much without lubrication would hurt Arthur, and Merlin could never, ever hurt his prince. “What would like me to do for you, Sire?”
Arthur lowered his hands and reached for Merlin, who allowed himself to be pulled in until he was resting his entire weight on Arthur again, his finger still inside Arthur and his armed trapped awkwardly but perfectly between them. “You know what I want,” he said, voice husky and raspy, deeper that usual, a deep rumbling emanating from his chest that Merlin could feel shaking his entire frame.
Merlin slid his finger out and moved his hands upwards, until they lodged in Arthur’s hair. He gripped the sides of Arthur’s head and rested his forehead against Arthur’s. Their lips touched, and they breathed each other’s exhales. “I’d like you to tell me though.”
Arthur rolled his hips, his cock sliding against Merlin’s, and they both groaned. He reached down and cupped Merlin’s arse, kneading the mounds of flesh and grinding their cocks together. “Merlin,” he breathed, “I want you to fuck me.”
Merlin pushed Arthur’s knees up until his legs were wrapped around his waist. He grinned, impishly, and pressed a kiss to the tip of Arthur’s nose. “Who says I want to fuck you?”
Arthur threw back his head and laughed as he gripped Merlin tighter, pulling their bodies closer together. He leaned forward and pressed light, chaste kisses to Merlin’s lips and cheeks, chin, temple, eyelids. “Then I order you to fuck me.”
Merlin let a low chuckle and buried his face in Arthur’s neck for a moment, collecting himself and nodding eagerly, kissing the skin of Arthur’s throat, the dip between his collarbones and the sharp just of his jawline.
Arthur fell back against the pillow and his hips resumed their rocking. Merlin gasped and allowed himself to feel and lose himself in the motion of Arthur’s thrusts and the scent and taste of Arthur’s skin. He was overwhelmed, Arthur was all around him, caressing him and soaking into him, and he jerked away with a low groan. He pressed his cock against Arthur’s thigh as he breathed slowly, waiting for his skin to stop tingling and his mind to clear. He lifted his eyes, blinking slowly as sweat dripped from his forehead and off of the tip of his nose, and met Arthur’s gaze. Arthur smirked up at him, and Merlin shook his head, flinging drops of sweat from his fringe.
“That’s playing dirty,” he said. He crawled over Arthur, kissing his way up his chest until lips met lips once again.
“You don’t obey orders,” Arthur said into his mouth, and a glass bottle was pressed into his hand.
Merlin opened it without breaking the kiss, knowing the shape and feel of the bottle almost as well as he knew Arthur’s body. He dipped two fingers in, then reached down and slipped them into Arthur’s hole. The entered easily, sliding in as if they were meant to be there, and Arthur’s body offered no resistance. Arthur gasped, breaking the kiss, and spread his legs further apart. One hand drifted down to lazily stroke his cock, the other absently tweaked a nipple, and he lay there, immersing himself in the sensations, the feel of Merlin’s fingers joining his own around his erection, the musk of precome heavy in the air, the slippery sounds of the fingers of Merlin’s other hand working in and out of him.
Merlin eased in a third finger, the oil inside Arthur’s body it coating it and slicking the way. Arthur pushed his rear upwards and arched his back, and Merlin’s fingers were sucked. Merlin groaned at the sensation, the suction on his fingers, and pressed the heel of his hand to cock to avoid coming.
Arthur laughed lightly and unclenched his buttocks, releasing Merlin’s fingers.
“Gods, Arthur,” Merlin groaned. He fell forward, his body draped over Arthur’s, and lightly nipped at the skin over his ribcage.
Arthur’s hand, coated in oil, covered his cock and he jumped, startled out of his reverie.
“When are you going to learn, Merlin? I’m the prince. You have to do as I tell you to.” Arthur hooked a leg around Merlin’s waist and pulled him forward, and his hand guided Merlin’s prick to his entrance.
Merlin raised his eyes and met Arthur’s gaze and slowly pushed forward, breaching Arthur’s body farther than his fingers could, and Arthur opened easily underneath him until their hips were pressed tightly together.
“Oh gods,” Arthur breathed. He raised his head to gaze at where their bodies were connected, but as Merlin began to thrust, slow and steady, pulling all the way until only the tip of his cock remained, then pushing back in until his balls were pressed against Arthur’s cheeks, the effort to keep his head raised was too much and he let it drop.
Merlin’s thrusts sped up. Not much, but enough for Arthur to groan as his toes curled and his back arched a bit – just enough to let Merlin in that precious extra bit.
“More,” he rasped, digging his heels into Merlin’s lower back, urging him to move faster, to thrust harder, to give him more because it wasn’t enough.
Merlin chuckled again but obligingly sped up as Arthur requested. Sweat poured off both of them, pooling in the small of Merlin’s back and Arthur’s lower belly, where his upraised legs had made his skin concave. A particularly rough thrust had Arthur throwing his head back, grimacing in that way that Merlin knew meant Arthur was barely holding on because everything was just too-much-too-much-too-much and all he could do was clutch at Merlin, pulling him closer, pulling him deeper.
A sweat droplet clung to the tip of Merlin’s nose. A thrust later and it was sent flying, landing on Arthur’s lower lip. A pink tongue flicked out, swiping and tasting. Merlin moaned and let himself drop forward until he was chest-to-chest with Arthur. They wrapped their arms around each other, holding tight.
The contact increased the friction on Arthur’s cock, and he tried to warn Merlin but all that came out was a mangled “Hhngh,” and then he was coming so hard it almost hurt, but it was good – so much better than good – and he never wanted it to stop.
“Shit, Arthur,” Merlin said. He felt his own orgasm approaching. Arthur’s body was still tight around him when he released, pushing as deep as he could and filling Arthur.
Gradually, the both uncoiled from each other. Merlin dislodged his teeth from Arthur’s shoulder, unaware of when he had bitten him but pleased with the bruise he knew would form.
Their bodies stuck together, sweat and semen creating suction that stung a bit when Merlin lifted himself off of Arthur. He rolled to the side
Arthur lay there for a bit, catching his breath. One hand intertwined with Merlin’s and the other lazily stroked through the seed coating his stomach. He didn’t move, his legs still spread wide. He could feel Merlin’s fluids leaking out him. He wondered if Merlin would clean the wet spot on the bed with his magic. He didn’t want either one of them to move.
“Do you have duties today?” Merlin asked.
Arthur frowned. He sighed and turned, wrapping himself around Merlin and pressing his face into the other’s neck. He allowed himself to just lie there and breathe.
Merlin hummed. He understood, because of course Arthur had duties. He lived a life of duties. But for this moment, and maybe a few moments more, he could lie there and hold the man he loved and allow himself to be held in return. Merlin could do that much.