Title: Not All That Fantastic
Author: bakarini
Genre: Gen, Slash
Word Count: 1,161
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Merlin/Knight, Arthur watching
Summary: Arthur is left servantless at a feast, and sets to finding out exactly what Merlin thinks is more important than serving him.
In Which: Arthur finds out that he is not the center of the universe, and Merlin has a sex life.
Notes: Originally the beginning was written as a prompt for clockworkwolves, and the first half by me and the second half by her can be found over here at Capslock_Merlin. But, I was having a little too much fun with it not to continue a version of my own...

Not All That Fantastic

Arthur never really thought Merlin was all that fantastic. A horrible manservant, big ears that might have been cute – but he was a prince and princes weren’t supposed to think anything was cute, gangly, and crossing the border into moronic.

He also never really minded that Merlin made it to the stocks at least twice a week, and didn’t care if the kid was run ragged doing chores for the boatload of other knights who ordered him around on the training field and in the armory.

And then, in the middle of the night, servantless and forced to make his own drunken way from some feast or another, he’d been distracted from his hunt for manservant and/or bed, by noises just around the corner – the armory, of all places. And God damned if Merlin abandoned him to go clean swords in the middle of the night. He was supposed to be serving Arthur wine and food and guiding his inebriated ass to bed.

Cracking the door open with every intent of scaring the living shit out of his manservant, Arthur was keen on finding out exactly what Merlin thought was more important than serving the prince and standing around waiting on the borders of the feast.

Apparently, Merlin found it more important to have his back ground up against a wall, pale legs folded around the waist of a tall, dark, half naked knight who’s thick fingers gripped those bony hips tight enough to leave bruises.

Those little grunts weren’t from exertion. Well… not exertion from cleaning Arthur’s armor, at least.

He was going to leave, really, duck out and leave them be – because, come on, they were screwing and that was a rather private thing.

Then again, Merlin was his manservant, and they were fucking in the amory, of all places. It wasn’t like they locked the door, or went into an actual room. They were just there, in the open, practically asking to be walked in on.

Merlin let out a strangled sound, dragging out of his throat between panting gasps of breath, something that was deep and husky and slid out of his long, extended neck, head leaning against the wall, hair getting more unruly by the second as each hard thrust of the man holding him by the hips drove him up the wall. Up and down, up and down.

Arthur shook his head, once, hard. There was something prowling in his chest, something hot and angry, something that he couldn’t quite place and didn’t make sense.

The heat pooling down in his groin, on the other hand – that made perfect sense. It was also the reason why he needed to leave. Now.

He was shutting the door, he would always swear he was shutting the door, when another sound broke out and he froze. His heart pounding roughly in his chest. Merlin had leaned his head back farther, if it was even possible, his back arching so his chest pressed against the other man’s, his long, pale fingers tensing and digging into the man’s bare, tanned shoulders. Oh god.

He would insist he was still shutting the door, even though his eyes had yet to leave Merlin.

Merlin whose breath was coming hitched gasps, whose body was tense and shuddering, whose neck was flushed pink, crawled up to his ears and spilling down his chest and under his shirt. Merlin, whose eyes were closed, pink, swollen lips parted in pleasure. Merlin, who ripped a hand from the man’s shoulder and grabbed him roughly by the hair, who didn’t look down but ground out a rough, husky, “harder.”

Arthur’s hands weren’t anywhere near his crotch. One on the doorknob, the other pressed against the wall, holding him up. But the sound of Merlin’s voice, like that – He came, hard and fast, making his knees shudder under him, his fingers tightening on the doorknob and his hand sliding roughly along the wall as he worked to keep himself upright.

He was still hard. Great for a long go of pleasing the latest woman to fall in the young Pendragon’s sheets. Not so great for voyeuristically spying on a manservant fucking a knight in the armory – an armory very not close to his room.

The knight leaned in, so close to pressing his face to Merlin’s neck, inches from landing lips on Merlin’s skin. And then stopped, head pulled back roughly by Merlin’s fingers, still wrapped in his hair. Both of them, so close. Merlin’s cock arching up and pressing against his stomach, slick with pre-come and completely ignored.

Merlin’s legs tightened around the man in front of him, and he was so tense, as though he could snap in half at any moment, shuddering so hard Arthur was shocked the castle wasn’t falling down around them. “Harder.” His voice was thick with lust, passion, and hard with demand.

The knight grunted compliance, fingers digging into Merlin’s hips, and thrusting roughly into him, slamming Arthur’s manservant against the wall, thrusting him up it, making Merlin groan with something that sounded like pleasure even as his lips twitched with what was no doubt pain – but he wasn’t complaining.

Fingers still in the man’s hair, so tight, he had to be ripping it out, the knight leaned forward, pressing into Merlin’s neck. Biting, kissing, licking – God, Arthur couldn’t see, but he could hear well enough. Just a whisper of a word, rough and low. “Merlin.”

He should have been paying attention to whose voice it was – instead he was staring, transfixed, as Merlin let out a choked off groan of breath and came, hot and hard over their stomachs, wrapping himself even tighter around the man holding him. Arthur came with him. A second time, unaided except for the sight and sound of Merlin.

The knight thrust roughly into Merlin once, twice more, and came with a gasping breath and grunt that was buried in Merlin’s neck.

They clung to each other, panting and sweating, Merlin’s fingers sliding from the man’s hair as the knight turned his head to claim a kiss. Deep and heavy, a kiss that made Merlin make noises in the back of his throat, and made the thing that was hot and angry rear in Arthur’s chest dangerously.

He left then, because he couldn’t stay. Couldn’t stay because they’d see him, and because the thing in his chest was angry and demanded attention that he refused to give to it.

He stumbled back to his quarters, spent and not so drunk, alone.

He went to bed reminding himself that Merlin was not all that fantastic. That he was still a horrible manservant, that his ears were too big and not cute, that he was gangly, and definitely moronic. But every time he blinked, he saw Merlin, glistening with sweat and huskily demanding things that were perverse and twisted, that made him tense and come and gleam with sex, and the hot thing in his chest rumbled lowly.


:: NEXT :: Maybe A Little Fantastic, But That Was It