![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tourdefierceTitle: Hey Big!Spender
Word Count: 1,372
Rating: R or NC-17
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Warnings: Sex. Disregard for the history of suspenders. No really, I doub Gaius invented them.
Summary: Merlin gets suspenders. (Thinly veiled plot divice for porn is well, thinly veiled.)
Author's Note: This is for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
latenightcuppa who is going through football withdrawal between World Cup and Club Football.
"Gaius," Merlin whines from where he's standing in the doorway to his bedroom, breeches unbuttoned. "There must be mice again, there are tiny little holes in my trousers."
"Mice don't make perfectly round holes, Merlin."
Merlin looks up from where he's putting his pinky threw the hole and scowls. "How'd you know they were perfectly round."
"Here," Gaius growls and Merlin barely catches the thin strapped material being thrown at him. The leather is old and butter soft but it's cut in thin strips with small buttons attached to the ends.
"What's it for?"
Gauis sighs and puts down whatever he's working on (it smells fowl) and stomps over to Merlin, taking the leather from him and fitting it on Merlin's body. He's a little forceful when he turns Merlin around but when the young warlock opens his mouth to complain, he realizes that his pants aren't falling down anymore. Th ae reality that he won't have to wear a pair of twine around his hips to hold his breeches up is delightful.
"This is genius!" Merlin plays with the straps, running his thumbs under the worn material. It's soft against his bare chest and feels alarmingly pleasant on his nipples. He can feel himself blush as Gaius raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he turns to go back to work, muttering and rolling his eyes as he was known to do with just about everyone who wasn't the King.
And even then, Merlin had seen a fair amount of cheekiness from Gaius in regard to Uther but that was only when Gaius was feeling particularly youthful.
"Thanks," Merlin mutters and returns to his bedroom to find a shirt that won't bunch awkwardly at his waist.
<3<3<3
Thankfully, Merlin had to help Gaius with herb gathering and spent most of the day outside the stuffy castle and away from Arthur, who had been extraordinarily annoying due to the heat and Merlin had taken to only spending the evenings in Arthur's bed when speaking was limited. When Arthur wasn't naked, his mood was dreadful.
But as the sun begins to set, Merlin makes his way back to the castle to attend Arthur at the feast. It's a feast for someone who thinks they are more important than they are, at least Merlin thinks so and so he doesn't hurry back, instead he lets rabbits and other woodland creatures follow him back to the edge of the lower town before he shoos them away and walks leisurely back to the castle.
As a result, he doesn't have time to change his clothing before attending to Arthur, who still cannot dress himself. Merlin tries to brush off as much dirt as possible but resorts to a cleaning charm as soon as he finds the nearest deserted corner. Arthur always complains about Merlin's peasant smell and Merlin has to bite his tongue every single time because chainmail and armor do absolutely nothing for Arthur's royal stench.
"You're late," Arthur says with lazy importance that makes Merlin want to turn him into a frog. A warty one. "Although, I'm not sure why I expected you to be on time."
Merlin scoffs but stays silent, walking to riffle through Arthur's dresser drawers for something he won't hate. It takes a few moments to realize that Arthur's been silent for too long. Merlin turns around to see what exactly the prat's problems is, only to find Arthur paused as if he was walking toward the screen that Merlin was hanging clothes on. His eyes are glazed and his face is flushed.
"Are you alright?" Merlin approaches Arthur to put his hand on the Prince's forehead to check for fever, when Arthur moves, swiftly crushing Merlin's wrist and stopping the movement of his hand.
"Wha-" Merlin stutters as Arthur stares at his chest.
"Are are you wearing?"
Merlin frowns. Arthur's tone is neither teasing or unpleased. In fact, he's practically whispering in an awe-like fashion. It reminds Merlin of the time Arthur bit into a peach tart from the kitchens. Merlin is sure the fever has gone to his head as Arthur splays his broad sword hand in the center of Merlin's chest and backs him up to the nearest wall.
"Arthur, what's wrong?"
Arthur doesn't answer, just releases Merlin's wrist and traces the warlock's new leather suspenders, his tongue sweeping his bottom lip in concentration. Merlin feels a different sort of flush work its way down his body and settle in the pit of his stomach. Arthur continues to practically stroke the soft leather straps as if Merlin hadn't even spoken.
"Do you like them?" Merlin asks, eyes flickering from Arthur's hands to his face.
Arthur barely nods. "What are they called?"
"Gaius calls them suspenders."
Arthur just nods and Merlin is amazed at how aroused he is just by Arthur watching him and stroking the leather material. Merlin remembers the way the leather felt on his bare skin in the morning, the way the rough material had rubbed on his nipples and he moans, pushing Arthur's hands away to slip off the suspenders and take off his tunic. He pulls the leather back on before Arthur can protest.
"They feel good on my bare skin," Merlin says coyly, arching his back so that straps rub against his hardened nipples. Arthur moans, low in his throat, before plastering his chest against Merlin's and taking his mouth in a bruising kiss.
Merlin gasps, letting Arthur plunder his mouth without resistance. He clings to Arthur's towering form as one hand goes to hold Merlin's head tilted at whatever angle he desires and the other hand strokes the suspenders, snapping them against Merlin's sensitive nipples and chuckling when Merlin arches off the wall and scrambles his hands and hips around Arthur's, trying to get nearer--to get more of Arthur, who smelled like sun and sweat and sun-salve that Gaius gave out to the knights.
Arthur's mouth moves, hot and heavy down Merlin's neck with a predatory grace that leaves Merlin gasping, his hips thrusting for friction. Arthur licks and bites his way down Merlin's chest, his fingers running over the leather of the suspenders. It's only until Arthur sucks hard on Merlin's nipple, his mouth wetting the leather that Merlin pulls on Arthur's hair, yanking him up to crush their mouths together.
"God, Arthur," Merlin moans and Arthur pulls Merlin's legs up until their hips slot into place. Their kisses are sloppy but intense and Merlin can't stop moaning as Arthur thrusts against him, their erections pressing against each other with every rock of Arthur's hips. Merlin presses back, arching off the wall and clawing at Arthur's shoulders until he can't stop the curling of his orgasm.
He comes with a few gasps of Arthur's name and the Prince buries his head into Merlin's shoulder, biting hard as he comes in his own trousers; hips working in tiny but forceful thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.
"I don't think I'll be wearing these trouser to the feast," Arthur pants into Merlin's neck and he laughs in response, nodding his head as he feels the sticky seep in his own trousers.
"I don't think I'll be wearing come stroked trousers, either."
Merlin settles his head against the cool stone and watches Arthur lazily untangle their limbs. He steps back, running his rough hands down Merlin's suspenders and causing a shiver to erupt up Merlin's spine. His nipples pebbled and Merlin tried not to blush at how his skin responded to Arthur's touch.
"You'll be wearing these," Arthur says with a tone of authority, as if he is issuing a royal decree. "You'll be wearing these whenever I say."
"Yes, sire," Merlin says hotly, without an ounce of decorum and with a decent roll of his hips.
Word Count: 1,372
Rating: R or NC-17
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur
Warnings: Sex. Disregard for the history of suspenders. No really, I doub Gaius invented them.
Summary: Merlin gets suspenders. (Thinly veiled plot divice for porn is well, thinly veiled.)
Author's Note: This is for
latenightcuppa who is going through football withdrawal between World Cup and Club Football. "Gaius," Merlin whines from where he's standing in the doorway to his bedroom, breeches unbuttoned. "There must be mice again, there are tiny little holes in my trousers."
"Mice don't make perfectly round holes, Merlin."
Merlin looks up from where he's putting his pinky threw the hole and scowls. "How'd you know they were perfectly round."
"Here," Gaius growls and Merlin barely catches the thin strapped material being thrown at him. The leather is old and butter soft but it's cut in thin strips with small buttons attached to the ends.
"What's it for?"
Gauis sighs and puts down whatever he's working on (it smells fowl) and stomps over to Merlin, taking the leather from him and fitting it on Merlin's body. He's a little forceful when he turns Merlin around but when the young warlock opens his mouth to complain, he realizes that his pants aren't falling down anymore. Th ae reality that he won't have to wear a pair of twine around his hips to hold his breeches up is delightful.
"This is genius!" Merlin plays with the straps, running his thumbs under the worn material. It's soft against his bare chest and feels alarmingly pleasant on his nipples. He can feel himself blush as Gaius raises an eyebrow but says nothing as he turns to go back to work, muttering and rolling his eyes as he was known to do with just about everyone who wasn't the King.
And even then, Merlin had seen a fair amount of cheekiness from Gaius in regard to Uther but that was only when Gaius was feeling particularly youthful.
"Thanks," Merlin mutters and returns to his bedroom to find a shirt that won't bunch awkwardly at his waist.
Thankfully, Merlin had to help Gaius with herb gathering and spent most of the day outside the stuffy castle and away from Arthur, who had been extraordinarily annoying due to the heat and Merlin had taken to only spending the evenings in Arthur's bed when speaking was limited. When Arthur wasn't naked, his mood was dreadful.
But as the sun begins to set, Merlin makes his way back to the castle to attend Arthur at the feast. It's a feast for someone who thinks they are more important than they are, at least Merlin thinks so and so he doesn't hurry back, instead he lets rabbits and other woodland creatures follow him back to the edge of the lower town before he shoos them away and walks leisurely back to the castle.
As a result, he doesn't have time to change his clothing before attending to Arthur, who still cannot dress himself. Merlin tries to brush off as much dirt as possible but resorts to a cleaning charm as soon as he finds the nearest deserted corner. Arthur always complains about Merlin's peasant smell and Merlin has to bite his tongue every single time because chainmail and armor do absolutely nothing for Arthur's royal stench.
"You're late," Arthur says with lazy importance that makes Merlin want to turn him into a frog. A warty one. "Although, I'm not sure why I expected you to be on time."
Merlin scoffs but stays silent, walking to riffle through Arthur's dresser drawers for something he won't hate. It takes a few moments to realize that Arthur's been silent for too long. Merlin turns around to see what exactly the prat's problems is, only to find Arthur paused as if he was walking toward the screen that Merlin was hanging clothes on. His eyes are glazed and his face is flushed.
"Are you alright?" Merlin approaches Arthur to put his hand on the Prince's forehead to check for fever, when Arthur moves, swiftly crushing Merlin's wrist and stopping the movement of his hand.
"Wha-" Merlin stutters as Arthur stares at his chest.
"Are are you wearing?"
Merlin frowns. Arthur's tone is neither teasing or unpleased. In fact, he's practically whispering in an awe-like fashion. It reminds Merlin of the time Arthur bit into a peach tart from the kitchens. Merlin is sure the fever has gone to his head as Arthur splays his broad sword hand in the center of Merlin's chest and backs him up to the nearest wall.
"Arthur, what's wrong?"
Arthur doesn't answer, just releases Merlin's wrist and traces the warlock's new leather suspenders, his tongue sweeping his bottom lip in concentration. Merlin feels a different sort of flush work its way down his body and settle in the pit of his stomach. Arthur continues to practically stroke the soft leather straps as if Merlin hadn't even spoken.
"Do you like them?" Merlin asks, eyes flickering from Arthur's hands to his face.
Arthur barely nods. "What are they called?"
"Gaius calls them suspenders."
Arthur just nods and Merlin is amazed at how aroused he is just by Arthur watching him and stroking the leather material. Merlin remembers the way the leather felt on his bare skin in the morning, the way the rough material had rubbed on his nipples and he moans, pushing Arthur's hands away to slip off the suspenders and take off his tunic. He pulls the leather back on before Arthur can protest.
"They feel good on my bare skin," Merlin says coyly, arching his back so that straps rub against his hardened nipples. Arthur moans, low in his throat, before plastering his chest against Merlin's and taking his mouth in a bruising kiss.
Merlin gasps, letting Arthur plunder his mouth without resistance. He clings to Arthur's towering form as one hand goes to hold Merlin's head tilted at whatever angle he desires and the other hand strokes the suspenders, snapping them against Merlin's sensitive nipples and chuckling when Merlin arches off the wall and scrambles his hands and hips around Arthur's, trying to get nearer--to get more of Arthur, who smelled like sun and sweat and sun-salve that Gaius gave out to the knights.
Arthur's mouth moves, hot and heavy down Merlin's neck with a predatory grace that leaves Merlin gasping, his hips thrusting for friction. Arthur licks and bites his way down Merlin's chest, his fingers running over the leather of the suspenders. It's only until Arthur sucks hard on Merlin's nipple, his mouth wetting the leather that Merlin pulls on Arthur's hair, yanking him up to crush their mouths together.
"God, Arthur," Merlin moans and Arthur pulls Merlin's legs up until their hips slot into place. Their kisses are sloppy but intense and Merlin can't stop moaning as Arthur thrusts against him, their erections pressing against each other with every rock of Arthur's hips. Merlin presses back, arching off the wall and clawing at Arthur's shoulders until he can't stop the curling of his orgasm.
He comes with a few gasps of Arthur's name and the Prince buries his head into Merlin's shoulder, biting hard as he comes in his own trousers; hips working in tiny but forceful thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.
"I don't think I'll be wearing these trouser to the feast," Arthur pants into Merlin's neck and he laughs in response, nodding his head as he feels the sticky seep in his own trousers.
"I don't think I'll be wearing come stroked trousers, either."
Merlin settles his head against the cool stone and watches Arthur lazily untangle their limbs. He steps back, running his rough hands down Merlin's suspenders and causing a shiver to erupt up Merlin's spine. His nipples pebbled and Merlin tried not to blush at how his skin responded to Arthur's touch.
"You'll be wearing these," Arthur says with a tone of authority, as if he is issuing a royal decree. "You'll be wearing these whenever I say."
"Yes, sire," Merlin says hotly, without an ounce of decorum and with a decent roll of his hips.
