02 February 2009 @ 03:57 am
Dirty Laundry  
Title: Dirty Laundry
Author: [info]lilithilien
Fandom/Characters: Merlin, Arthur/Merlin
Word Count/Rating: 500 words/NC-17
Summary: Uther is not impressed with Merlin. Arthur is.
Disclaimer: So very not mine. If they were, this scene would be canon.
A/N: Missing scene from episode 1x04. This started with [info]sarcastic_jo innocently questioning whether Arthur wore the longcoat of sexxx during the initial meeting with King Bayard. Of course, that required watching again, as well as pondering why Arthur was slumming while everybody else was dressed to the nines. Cracky porn ensued. (Posted at merlinxarthur.

Merlin insisted that his father would not notice. Merlin was an idiot.

"What is the meaning of this, Arthur?"

"I'm sorry, Sire?"

"Your attire." He gestured disparagingly towards Arthur's red tunic and brown hunting jacket. "You would slight Camelot by appearing before King Bayard looking like a common servant? Where are your formal robes?"

...Merlin's neck goes crimson red under Arthur's mouth, his pale skin flushing with a bashfulness that's completely unwarranted—Arthur knows exactly how filthy Merlin can be. He discovered it that night after the tourney as Merlin helped him from the bath, convincing him once and for all that he didn't mind his impudent servant's tongue if it could do that. He makes his way down Merlin's chest, biting hard enough on pebbled nipples to leave them raw, to make Merlin erupt with a language that's part groans, part curses, and part words that Arthur pretends he doesn't hear. He moves even lower, exhaling a moist breath over Merlin's erection as he tugs loose the laces of his trousers. The lean body arches hard as he slides them off, grinding against Arthur with more strength than anyone would expect from such a scrawny servant. "Impatient, are we?" teases the prince, if only to elicit a clipped reply: "Just fuck me already." Arthur laughs and reaches for the vial of oil, slathers it carelessly over his cock, watches it drip messily between Merlin's legs. He's begging, now, if it could really be called begging in such a demanding tone, but with his knees pulled tight up to his chest and his opening greedy and exposed, Merlin is far too tempting for Arthur to refuse. He presses into the tight hole, marvelling at how Merlin's muscles shift and stretch as he sheathes himself so completely. He only gets to enjoy it for a second, then "move, you bastard." Merlin demands like he's the heir apparent and Arthur is his minion; "faster, Arthur, faster," he commands as his writhing ratchets Arthur's sensations to the limit. It's quick, it's dirty, it's exactly what they both need in these stolen afternoon moments.

Afterwards, Arthur slides out of Merlin's body with a slick 'schlap' sound; it scatters oil across his bedcovers, but he really can't be bothered to worry about that at the moment. It's all he can do to collapse boneless on top of Merlin and close his eyes, thoroughly sated. He could easily have fallen asleep had Merlin not begun fidgeting like a skittish colt beneath him. Arthur pries his eyes open, sluggishly at first, then wider when he recognises the brilliant red of his nicest cape crushed under Merlin's shoulder.

"Merlin, when you entered my chambers you were carrying my formal robes. Pray tell, what did you do with them...?"

"I apologize, Sire. Merlin failed to clean them properly and I had him do it again."

"That servant of yours truly is useless. Perhaps he should spend another day in the stocks to teach him a lesson?"

"You know, father, I think you might be right."

~~~ The End ~~~