fic: Skin

Jun. 2nd, 2012 08:35 pm
kim47: (merlin; moar sleeping arthur)
[personal profile] kim47
Title: Skin
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Rating: R
Word count: ~1500
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc.

Summary: written for [livejournal.com profile] brunettepet's prompt over at [livejournal.com profile] marguerite_26's first time fest: The first time Arthur sees Merlin naked.

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote Merlin, it was fun :D Self-beta'd, so.

*


The first time Arthur sees Merlin naked is not the first time they have sex.

The first time they have sex is frantic, up against the door to Arthur's chambers, harsh breath and fumbling hands, Arthur begging, imploring Merlin not to "ever do something that stupid again, please, Merlin, I can't lose you too." They don't get much past unlaced breeches, and Arthur bites Merlin's neck when he comes.

It happens again, and again; Merlin does something unbelievably stupid to keep Arthur unharmed, and Arthur can't stop the shuddering fear that overtakes him every time, can't resist the need to put his hands on Merlin, to draw him close and feel him shake apart, to be reminded that he's still alive. They always end up half-dressed and leaning against each other as they regain their breath. Hands fluttering under clothing, but never quite removing it.

It becomes a thing; somehow it's okay that they do this - it doesn't count - as long as it's hurried and desperate, a reassurance. As long as afterwards, Merlin can just straighten his stupid scarf and walk away. Arthur never pushes, never asks for more, however much he wants so spread Merlin out on deep red blankets and taste every inch of him without the lingering terror thrumming in his blood.

*


The thought occurs to Arthur in the middle of breakfast one day, with Merlin humming a tune as he goes about his morning duties, that Merlin's seen him naked many, many times. He's helped Arthur bathe, he frequently dresses him, he's tended to more wounds than Arthur can count. It seems unfair, unjust even.

He watches as Merlin putters around his chambers, eyes following the line of his neck and the curve of his jaw. Merlin's always so covered up; boots, breeches, shirt, coat, scarf. The skin he can see is gorgeous, pale and smooth, and Arthur wants to lick and suck at it, mark it. He wonders if the rest of Merlin's skin is as perfect, if he would flush down to his chest while Arthur covered it with kisses.

Arthur sighs and returns to his breakfast.

center*

In the end it's easy. Merlin is sprawled across a chair in Arthur's chambers, drinking a glass of wine at Arthur's offer, and his cheeks are flushed with it, his eyes bright. He's still completely lucid, arguing with and teasing Arthur, but he's also loose and easy with his smile. And Arthur is done with prevaricating, he wants this without the smell of blood and fear hanging over them. He wants.

Merlin comes to him easily, climbing into his lap and kissing him back hard. He rolls his hips down against Arthur's, just once, then shifts back, his hands going for Arthur's breeches.

"Wait."

Arthur tips him gently off his lap and follows him up before Merlin has a chance to protest.

"I want to see you." It comes out a little too raw and desperate for his liking, but it's worth it when Merlin's eyes widen.

"Yes, yes, Arthur," he breathes and pulls Arthur back to him, kissing him frantically and tugging Arthur's shirt out of his belt.

Arthur laughs and stills his hands again. "No, this is my turn," he says simply.

He takes his time with it, loosening the knot of Merlin's scarf slowly and pulling if off. There's nothing for it but to lean in and kiss Merlin's neck, starting from his collar bones and working his way up to his jaw, pausing occasionally to suck and bite gently.

Merlin's torso, when Arthur finally gets rid of his shirt, is surprisingly well-muscled. Merlin looks almost painfully skinny clothed; unclothed, Arthur can see his wiry muscle tone, the taut flatness of his stomach. A tiny smattering of dark hair covers his chest and Arthur can't help running his fingers over it, smiling when Merlin shivers.

He pushes Merlin down on the bed then, eager to lay Merlin out, and starts to divest him of the rest of his clothes. Merlin's hipbones are just as sharp as they feel, and Arthur bites gently at each one, earning himself a light smack on the head.

Laughing, he pulls away to properly pull off Merlin's breeches, pausing to unlace his boots and throw them off the bed.

Finally, Merlin is naked, spread out on Arthur's bed, and Arthur doesn't know where to look first. Merlin's beautiful - shoulders broader then they seem, slim, boyish hips, long, long legs that Arthur can't wait to have around his waist.

There are scars peppering his body; small ones on his chest and legs, memories of hurts that make Arthur's blood turn cold, and he wants to kiss them all, to reward Merlin for every cut he's ever taken for Arthur, all the blood he's ever shed in his name. The long, jagged one on his leg must have been from an awful gash, deep and painful. Arthur runs his finger along it and looks up at Merlin, the question hanging on his lips. Merlin shakes his head.

"Years ago," he says. "Before I came here. Will pushed me in a river, I cut myself on a sharp rock. Nearly bled to death, Mum was hysterical." In typical Merlin fashion, he's smiling, as if it were some fond memory, not a near-death experience. Arthur just mutters "idiot" and kisses it anyway.

There's bruising too, along the ribs on his left side, the faint mottled yellow of a nearly-healed injury. Arthur frowns at it, tilting his head and staring. He knows that kind of bruising, he's seen it countless times. He crawls up Merlin's body and cuffs him around the head.

"Have you been sparring?" he asks, narrowing his eyes. Merlin looks affronted.

"Of course I have! In case you hadn't noticed, we get into a lot of trouble. I though it would be helpful if I knew how to use a sword."

"It was Gwaine, wasn't it?" Arthur doesn't even have to think about that one.
"Gwaine's been teaching you to fight, and bruising you thoroughly in the process."

Merlin rolls his eyes. "Can we not talk about Gwaine right now?"

Arthur sighs and kisses him instead of replying. One day, possibly, Merlin will understand what it does to Arthur when he puts himself in danger, the way it twists up his insides and makes him frantic. Merlin kisses him back, sliding his tongue into Arthur's mouth, hot and wet. His hips start moving, little jerking thrusts against Arthur.

After a minute, Arthur pulls away and slides down Merlin's body. Merlin is completely hard, his cock flushed, and Arthur's mouth waters at the sight. He leans down slowly and licks him from root to tip, glancing up to see Merlin's eyes slip shut. He smirks.

He's not exactly skilled at this; he's done it once or twice, but it's been a while and he's not sure he was ever that good to begin with. From the way Merlin's moaning and rocking into his mouth, though, it's as if he's the best cocksucker in the best whorehouse in Camelot. It's intensely arousing, the noises Merlin's making, the heavy, hot taste and feel of him in Arthur's mouth, and Arthur has to slip his hand into his own breeches.

It doesn't take long, not more than five minutes before Merlin slides his fingers into Arthur's hair and tugs, flooding Arthur's mouth when Arthur refuses to move. He's sputters and chokes a little, ending up with Merlin's come all over his chin, but thankfully Merlin is too busy panting and whispering Arthur's name over and over to notice. He's so close, desperate now, only a minute behind Merlin when he spills over his own fist, forehead pressed into Merlin's stomach, mouthing at the muscle there.

Merlin pulls him up by the shoulders, and they kiss gently, Merlin licking his own come off Arthur's chin. When they finally part, Merlin frowns.

"You're still dressed."

"I was distracted," Arthur says, smiling. Merlin huffs, kisses Arthur again, then curls into his side. It feels amazing, having Merlin tucked against him, miles of still-flushed, naked skin pressed against Arthur. Arthur can't stop moving his hands, sweeping out circles on Merlin's body, as if he can’t quite believe he’s allowed to touch.

"Next time," Merlin mumbles, clearly about to fall asleep. "Next time we should both be naked."

“Oh, absolutely,” Arthur murmurs, and manages to kick off his boots and settle down, arranging Merlin more comfortably around him, kissing the nearest part of Merlin’s face. He’ll probably regret this when he wakes up, his breeches still sticky, his arm numb, Merlin drooling on his shoulder.

For now though, it’s perfect.

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October 2012

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