bakarini ♥

Fic Commissions Y/N?

2009-04-02T17:01:23Z

Flist - I need your say

For the sake of getting a new laptop, doomcake made the suggestion of perhaps doing (fan)fic commissions.

Question: Would any of you actually, you know, do this? (Aka: pay me to write you fic?)

How it would work?

Basically, I'm thinking I can write fic up to 15,000 words (which is pretty hefty). If you're looking for something over that, then we'd have to negotiate price and time and see if I can do it.

Only fanfiction?

I will be taking both fanfiction & original fiction requests. If you have a story of your own that you want to see come to life - shoot it my way.

What fandoms?

Gundam Wing
Merlin
SGA
SPN
Watchmen

Prices by word count:

$2 for every 1,000 words, up to 15,000 words.

     (5,000 word fic = $10)
     (7,000 word fic = $14)
     (etc...)

I understand $30 for a 15k fic is a little steep, so I'm willing to work with you guys and perhaps cut deals, depending on what exactly you want. Just talk to me, and I'm sure we can figure something out.

Prices by story:

This is a little tougher. If you just have a story you want me to write, then you're going to have to tell me how much you can spend, and we'll probably figure out length from there.

Seems complicated:

Artists price by size, medium, and complication, so I'm basically turning it into the same thing for fic. Hopefully it works.

How long to get my fic?

This is a little more complicated. I would hope to have your fic to you within 10 days. However, if this actually happens and I'm some how inundated with requests, then I'll probably have to make this wait a little longer. We can discuss this later.

When & where do I pay?

I'm thinking I might have to get a P.O. Box (maybe... I might be too lazy and might only do PayPal). As for when, you either pay up front, or I'll have you pay once I'm finished with the fic, but before I send it. Probably figure out what you guys would want.

All comments are going to be screened so you can give me your opinions and whatnot without being worried other will see, but really because I don't want to look like an idiot if everybody on my flist says I'm crazy, or if I get no responses at all... Haha.

3/31/09 Rorschach/Dan fics. hehehehe

2009-04-02T06:38:52Z

Oooooooohhh!

A list of all Rorschach/Dan fic that came out yesterday. Weeee!

Though I've read all of them... But still. If anybody on the flist likes the pairing, definitely go check it out. (Short list is short. D8)

Come and join - you know you want to

2009-04-01T18:23:25Z

Come on peeps! Come vote in elevator_shaft's April Awesomeness!

(I don't care if you're a WATCHMEN fan or not - go vote!)

Fic: Okay, Amazingly Fantastic (Merlin, NC-17)

2009-03-25T02:56:17Z

Title: Okay, Amazingly Fantastic
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word Count: 1,969
Rating: NC-17 (oooooh so NC-17)
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: Things continue to not go quite right, until they do, and then all is well.
In Which: Arthur tries to apologize, and Merlin kind of laughs at him.
Beta: scifijunkie, WHO APOLOGIZES FOR THE SEVERE DELAY IN THE PORN
Prequel:
(1) Not All That Fantastic
(2) Maybe A Little Fantastic, But That Was It
(3) Scratch That, Not At All Fantastic
(4) Possibly Slightly Fantastic

Okay, Amazingly Fantastic

Merlin comes into his chambers late the next day, like every other day he's been Arthur's manservant, and Arthur is surprised at how the tightness in his chest and back suddenly loosens. He hadn't even realized he'd been so desperately afraid that Merlin just wouldn't show up; afraid that the previous night's misunderstanding had been the breaking point, and that Merlin walking out had been a silent and deft declaration of resignation.

They'd had fights before, sure, plenty of them. But none of them had quite felt like their argument last night, and none of them had left Arthur with the same aching hollowness that burrowed into his chest when he'd stood in the middle of his room for the next five minutes waiting, and Merlin never came back.

Apparently all his agonizing and worry (not that it had been a lot, because prince's weren't supposed to have trouble sleeping after arguments with manservants) had been for naught, because Merlin came stumbling in with breakfast like every other morning. Even if there was an awkward silence hanging in the air as he hung, just inside the door, as though debating if he should say anything or not.

Arthur watched patiently from his chair, already dressed - having long since gotten used to the fact that Merlin wasn't going to be the servant who helped him with that - and lounging back in the soft furs. Any other day he would have laughed at the way Merlin hovered there, fingers tapping the edge of the dish he held, feet fidgeting nervously. Today he was un-princely happy to see him.

Finally Merlin moved, slowly coming forward and placing the platter on the table in front of Arthur, drawing back instantly moving away to take care of the room he hadn't tended to the night before.

The thing in Arthur's gut simmered and slunk, and Arthur couldn't help but speak, stopping Merlin before he could get close to the first astray boot. "I'm sorry."

Stock still, half bent, Merlin slowly righted and turned. If his demanding voice and naked, lithe body weren't still burned into Arthur's eyes, he would have been surprised that his manservant looked anything else but cool and collected. So unlike the Merlin that Arthur thought he knew, and so very much like the Merlin that made Arthur's blood run hot and had him fucking his own hand every night for the past fortnight.

"What?"

Arthur wasn't quite sure if Merlin actually hadn't heard him, or just wanted to make him repeat it. He didn't really care. "I'm sorry. I didn't intentionally put you in the stocks yesterday, and..." He trailed off, because while he'd fully prepared himself for making this stupid apology that even he knew was rather necessary, he hadn't planned to really speak any further than those two words, and now he was in unchartered territory.

He was trying. Trying really very hard, to make sure and think about this whole thing. Trying to pick his way carefully, because he didn't want a repeat of last night. But instead he managed to come up with, "I don't know why you'd think I wouldn't care," said too low and too grave and too serious.

It made the room freeze, time stop. And slowly, it made Merlin's eyes fall to the ground as a soft flush once again began to crawl up his neck. How in God's name could this could be the same boy who demanded a senior knight fuck him into a wall, who had the presence and the power to make a knight kneel in front of him, hard and sweating and shuddering with need - Arthur couldn't even put it together.

"What?" And this time Merlin really did look surprised, and no small measure confused, flush frozen just bellow his ears.

Jaw clenched in frustration at his own stupidity, fingers curling into fists, Arthur did not think a prince was supposed to get so flustered over any conversation, much less one with his very own servant - but thinking that didn't seem to have all that much of an effect on what was actually happening, and he was stuck, facing a very confused Merlin, trying to figure out how to recover.

He ended up asking, "How did you even meet Baiwen anyway?" and promptly wanted to kick himself. Sure, it was what he wanted to know, but it wasn't what he should have said.

Suddenly Merlin's eyes were back on him, flickering sharply with a light that made Arthur worried he would once again be left alone in his room staring at a closed door. And then slow seconds passed and Merlin's lips curved into a small smile that Arthur thought he should be more offended than turned on by, but he really couldn't help himself at this point. His voice was low, almost too soft to hear, as he asked, "Are you jealous?" in a completely and utterly un-Merlin-like way. Instead it was the voice of the tawny naked boy who demanded harder and fuck me.

The rumbling heat in Arthur's chest that had reared its ugly head that first night of drunkenly spying on Merlin had been in irritable hibernation since last night when it was doused with the cold fear of possibly never seeing Merlin again, suddenly flared bright and hot, snarling and gnashing its teeth, and before Arthur knew what he was doing, he was on his feet and across the room, looming in front of Merlin, so close he could feel the other's heart beat.

Merlin's eyes widened in surprise, but the smile never wavered from his thin lips. He looked as though he'd won something, and it drove Arthur crazy. "I waited for you." A low snort of laughter breathed out, warm breath hitting Arthur in the face. "Baiwen filled the position just fine." His voice hard and defiant and strong.

Arthur's cock pulsed, hard and hot in his trousers as he grabbed Merlin's arm and dragged him forward, crushing their lips together, the heat in his chest exploding as Merlin made a soft noise, mouth opening in invitation. And Arthur accepted it gladly, his other hand grabbing Merlin's ass, grinding their hips together as his tongue slid into the wet warmth of Merlin's mouth. When Merlin had become hard, Arthur didn't have a single fucking clue, but as they pressed against each other, there was no mistaking.

Growling into the kiss, his hands descended on Merlin's trousers, sliding between their flush bodies to rip at the front of them until they were loose enough to shove down, sliding over Merlin's ass and freeing his erection. Precome slid a wet streak over Arthur's hands as he wrapped his fingers around Merlin's erection, breaking away from the kiss to look at Merlin's face as his head dropped back and he let out a loud noise of need.

Eyes half lidded, he stared at Arthur, and a second later he felt Merlin's fingers slide into his hair, grabbing roughly, pulling until his skull panged. He growled out, "Now," demanding and strong, and Arthur came with a gasp, hard and fast in his trousers, grinding up against Merlin's bare dick. Lips curving into a wide, amused grin, Merlin jerked on his hair again, drawing Arthur's unfocused attention back to his face. "Fuck me now."

Cock throbbing in anticipation, still hard despite the wet stain in his pants, Arthur gave a sharp nod and shoved Merlin back onto his bed, tearing at the front of his own breeches as Merlin kicked off his own trousers. Arthur watched as Merlin, naked from the waist down, laid back on the edge of the bed, erection pressing against his stomach, leaving a thick wet stain, and spread his legs, placing his feet on the baseboard just below the edge of the mattress.

Arthur bit his lip, moaning as Merlin stared at him through thick lashes, eyes sharp and demanding and refusing to wait. "As hard as you can," he ordered. And Arthur was between his legs, gripping Merlin's pale thighs, dick pulsing with anticipation, and he didn't hesitate. With a sharp jerk of his hips, he bucked forward, thrusting hard and fast, past the tight ring of muscle and burying himself to the hilt in one swift motion, and under him Merlin cried out, "Yes!" and then, "Again," low and growling, voice shaking.

He didn't need encouragement to pull back out, barely heard Merlin's sound of disappointment and confusion and loss when the head of his cock slid roughly from the tight heat, just to be rewarded with another shout of pleasure when he rammed back in. His muscles taut, eyes rolling back in his head as Merlin tensed around him, grip on slender muscled thighs so hard, Merlin would have bruises for another fortnight.

Sliding his hands down to Merlin's bony hips, he used his elbows to spread his knees even more as he once again pulled away and thrust in with a sharp snap of his hips. Another wordless shout from Merlin, followed by, "Again," and Arthur complied. Bucking, rough and hard into Merlin, who tensed and tightened with every thrust.

Beneath him Merlin shook and writhed, his entire body flushed and sweating, head thrown back, hands clenching the furs under him, his erection red and hard and shuddering with inattention, stomach smeared with precome. As heat coiled in Arthur's stomach, his hands tightened on Merlin's hips, staring down in transfixed fascination as one of Merlin's slender hands released the blankets under him and slid over his wet stomach, wrapping around his own cock, pumping with quick, rough, tight strokes.

"Not yet." And Merlin's voice was shockingly steady, even if his words were choked on gasping breaths.

He jerked himself off as Arthur drove into him, watching, ready to burst, and yet unable to come without permission from that hard, commanding voice. And he watched as Merlin's back arched off the bed, his eyes squeezing shut, his hand moving faster, loosing all rhythm. "Not yet," he gasped into the room as he twisted his wrist violently on an upstroke. "Not yet," as he came, over his hand and stomach and chest, shuddering as his muscles clamped down on Arthur, still thrusting, rough and to the hilt, into Merlin, his whole body strained and ready and desperate, his breath choked in his throat, curled over Merlin's tense and shivering form and slender fingers wrapped around a still mostly-hard erection.

Merlin looked down his cum covered chest and stomach, piercing Arthur's unwavering gaze, and demanded, "Now," as Arthur drove forward and came with a scream, watching Merlin's hand move hard and fast, bringing himself off a second time as Arthur's hips rocked against his ass, rocking deeper as he filled Merlin with hot wetness, feeling himself shoot off again as Merlin came over himself for the second time.

He was left, grasping onto Merlin's bony hips for dear life as he shook and shuddered, softening dick nestled deep in warm heat, watching Merlin slowly relax back onto the bed, muttering a low, "Bloody fuck," to himself.

Slowly he pulled away, unhooking his frozen grip on Merlin, soft cock sliding out smoothly, making a good attempt at twitching back to life as he watched wet seed drip out of Merlin, staining his blankets.

"Arthur."

He looked up at the shaky, thick voice to see Merlin staring at him. "You’re mine," he growled out, grabbing Merlin's knee as though to prove possession.

Merlin let out a heavy laugh. "Kiss me."

He was on the bed before Merlin finished the request, hand sliding around the back of Merlin's neck as he crushed their lips together in a fierce kiss, assured that the only person Merlin was going to be having voyeuristic sex with around Camelot now was himself.

:: END ::

Because most of us are more than aware it's wrong

2009-03-19T23:19:33Z

Castle 1x01 icons

2009-03-12T22:50:47Z

My first batch of CASTLE icons. A little "meh", but whatev's.

x.x Credit bakarini
x.x Do not hotlink
x.x Blank icons are not bases

Teasers
03	06	19

Castle 1x01
01	02	03

04	05	06

07	08	09

10	11	12

13	14	15

16	17	18

19	20	21

22	23	24

For fans of Castle

2009-03-11T23:59:51Z

Because the comm's pretty much up and running, except for the profile page...

castle_fans castle_fans castle_fans castle_fans castle_fans castle_fans castle_fans

OMGOMGOMGOMGOMG

2009-02-17T19:26:31Z

This movie is going to be so amazingly, AMAZINGLY epic.

SO EXCITED!

60 second trailer 1:

60 second trailer 2:

And the 3rd one plays on TV tonight.

I cannot even attempt to express how excited I am

New Layout!

2009-02-17T00:59:18Z

Pimping out my new layout.

Quite happy with it myself. Though I'm still not sure about the colors. It'll probably just take some time to get used to...

bakarinibakarinibakarinibakarinibakarini

(image from T-Shirt Woot "Friends Are Forever")

Fic: Polishing (NC-17, Merlin)

2009-02-11T01:05:06Z

Title: Polishing
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word County: 1,427
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Arthur, Arthur/Merlin
Summary: In which Arthur spends time alone before battle, and Merlin wonders what the fuck he's doing.
Note: Because of this awesomeness over here.

Polishing

People might have called Merlin slow, but it didn't mean it was true. There was the occasional moment when, and even he had to admit it at times, he did something hasty or brash or somewhat idiotic regarding his magic - and Gaius had to cover it up by making the offhand apologetic remark for his dim student.

Arthur said it all the time, though that was mainly because he knew it irritated Merlin. At first it really did annoy him to no end, made the Prince look even stupider. Then Merlin realized it was friendly banter and a haphazard excuse Arthur made for Merlin regarding how little of his actual job he did.

If Arthur calling him stupid and lazy meant that he didn't have to do as much work, Merlin really didn't have any problems.

Anyway - the point was that he wasn't stupid, idiotic, lazy (well, maybe a little of that one), and certainly didn't have a mental affliction (not past being a wizard, at least); which meant it didn't take a lot to notice exactly how much time Arthur would spend by himself before training practice and duels. Other than when he allowed Merlin in to dress him, Arthur would spend an unnerving amount of time alone.

He'd chalked it up to mental preparation. Considering his own stints in battle, he wouldn't be surprised. Then again, it was Arthur - Prince of Camelot, Uther's son, most fearsome fighter of the kingdom. 'Mental preparation' just didn't seem to fit in there.

And considering Arthur, who liked to be out in the spotlight, looking over his opponents and laughing with his knights, teasing servants and throwing knives at people - the fact that he holed himself alone anywhere, at any time - other than to pass out after having a few drinks too many - didn't make much of any sense either.

Merlin didn't say anything at first.

Well, he didn't say much of anything to Arthur about anything at first, because the blond kid was a mother loving douche bagging douche and Merlin was still considering banging his head against a wall until he killed himself, for having gotten 'rewarded' with being the Prince's manservant at all.

Then he got to know Arthur better, got more than an earful of 'destinies' and 'coins' and 'blah blah bullshit' from the Dragon in the dungeon. He nearly died to save Arthur's life, and he'd spent long hours wondering what had come over him that made him feel the need to do that at all. Obviously the Dragon's insane mumbling was worming it's way into his brain.

In turn, Arthur nearly broke his neck and had his body devoured by man eating spiders, to save Merlin's life - and things got a little better between them after that.

Not to say Arthur wasn't still a God awful prat, but he was a prat stupid enough to save Merlin's scrawny little ass; so Merlin put up with it. Maybe they even started to become friends, or something equally ridiculous.

So, eventually - eventually Merlin had enough of this bizarre behavior in which Arthur locked himself away before battle, and he walked into Arthur's quarters early. Early and unannounced, storming through the door, eyes narrowed in determination, jaw set, shoulders squared.

Charged in and stopped dead, door sliding away from numb fingers as he stared, feeling a hot flush start at his cheeks and quickly descend down his neck and under his shirt.

He'd walked in on Arthur, sprawled in his chair, shoulders slumped, legs thrown wide, one hand gripping the hilt of his sword in a white knuckled fist, while the other was wrapped around his cock - hard, flushed, and glistening with dripping precum.

There was a weak, high pitched and choking squeak that came strangling, unbidden, from Merlin's throat; and Arthur looked up, bright eyes stabbing at him across the room from under sweat slicked bangs.

"Merlin?" Voice low and crackling with power and lust, tinged with confusion that apparently had no effect on his -

Merlin ripped his eyes away.

Or, at least, he would insist later that he tried to. That he'd had every intention of looking away, and not just staring at Arthur like that. Not even staring at him, just staring at his hand and cock, eyes glued to the familiar calloused hand that moved with quick, solid, tight, jerking strokes.

"Merlin."

Something in his voice made Merlin look up. Managed to get him to rip his eyes away from Arthur's familiar ring around his thumb, shimmering with precum. And as he saw Arthur's lips curve up into a smirk, he became most infinitely aware of the heat in his belly and the uncomfortable tightness of his pants.

Arthur just settled him with those bright, laughing eyes. His breath hitched, hips bucking instinctively into his hand. "Do you need something?"

It took every working cell in his brain to make him shake his head dumbly, and choke out a hollow, "No?"

The normal response would have been laughter, probably still would have been if it hadn't been for Arthur's thumb flicking over the tip of his cock, making his whole body to tighten, jaw to drop and head lean back against the top of the chair, hips bucking upwards again jerkily as he came over himself, staining his pants and drenching his knuckles as he milked himself flaccid.

It probably would have been a good time to leave - quickly. Turn around and high tail it out without looking back. Then again, that was what he should have done at the very beginning. Shouldn't have even walked in. Arthur was always telling him to knock first.

Of course, if he'd been capable of thought, he probably would have done any of the above. Instead, he just stood there, paralyzed, staring. He couldn't stop staring.

"Merlin?"

Regaining use of his neck, Arthur looked up again, dark eyes glimmering something predatory. Merlin nodded.

"Come here." And there was no room for debate in that voice, strong and demanding, even if he was still sucking in panting breaths.

His feet moved of their own accord, stepping further into the room, making his way toward Arthur who lounged, as though boneless, in his chair, one hand still gripping his sword hilt as he other slid slowly from his limp cock, and reached up. Reached out to grab the front of Merlin's trousers, staining them with wet come on his fingers as he pulled at the crotch and wrapped warm, strong fingers around Merlin's aching dick.

Smoothly he released Merlin from his confines, chuckling lowly as small noises wormed from Merlin's throat, and again when he released his manservant's cock and wrapped his hand over Merlin's thin hip instead.

Looking up through still wet bangs, Merlin watched in fascination as Arthur shook his head. "You really should learn to knock." And then he was looking forward and pulling Merlin toward him, dropping his jaw, and wrapping his hot lips around Merlin.

It was hot and wet and tight, and Merlin let out a gasp of shock and pleasure, hips thrusting forward into the heat of Arthur's mouth. There was a low hum of laughter, even as Arthur's hand on his hip tightened bruisingly, to keep Merlin from choking him, and proceeded to rock back for a quick moment, before coming forward again - setting a hasty, bobbing pace of tongue and lips and cock and teeth that had Merlin shaking, wrapping his fingers in Arthur's hair, gripping his thick shoulders to keep himself upright.

Warm tightness curled deep in Merlin's belly, making the muscles in his back and legs lock, turning his rocking thrusts into something chaotic and mindless. And when Arthur's other hand came up, release the hilt of his sword to grab Merlin's ass, fingers digging into soft flesh roughly, a strangled cry ripped out Merlin's throat as Arthur took him balls deep and sucked hard, greedily swallowing the hot wetness that spilled down his throat.

Knees shaking uncontrollably, Merlin stared down in half shock half sated daze as Arthur pulled back, wiping the back of his hand across his swollen lips, and they stared at each other.

Stared at each other until something jolted in Merlin's brain and he started to become acutely aware of the situation and what had just happened. Until his nerves jumped and told him to do something, and he lamely said, "I thought you polished your sword... or something..." in a low whisper.

Arthur laughed. "Well, I polish something."

END

Reality fandom TV?

2009-01-25T18:14:38Z

Hey guys, I want to know something...

The Show:

A reality TV show that followed around 6 all-con goers in a particular (rather crazy) fandom (like Supernatural, Twilight, Harry Potter, Wedonites, etc...).

We follow around half a dozen of a single fandoms biggest fans (at least when it comes to going to cons), and take a look into a culture, and a world, that most people have never laid eyes on. And through the chaos and madness that is fandom, we see what it's like to not just really love a TV show, but to come together as a community unlike anything else.

From the stark crazies, to the intense, to the normal folks who just really like the show - cons show you a little bit of everything; and the people who go to every one of them, know a whole lot more.

The Poll:

View Poll: Fandom TV?

Please pass the link around to anyone you know who would vote.

I want to get a good tally going here, so I can get some real numbers and get a good look at if this is something I should fight for.

FAQ:

Q: Laura, you silly, why are you doing this?
A: Because I work for a reality TV production company, and I pitched this idea, and my boss isn't a huge fan of it. I want to know whether to really fight for it, or let it die it's quiet and inane death.

Q: And the possible fandom backlash of utter wankness?
A: ... Let's not talk about that. I'm trying to make myself believe that wouldn't happen.

FLIST WEEDING

2009-01-24T11:56:54Z

Hey Everybody,

So, I recently did a little bit of flist weeding, and I'm going to be doing more soon. I basically got rid of everybody I had a one way friend with - I assumed these were people who had me friend them so they could read my NC-17 stuff.

Important announcement is important: I'm going to be going through my flist and weeding out people who either:

(a) I don't recognize your name when I look at it
(b) You don't interact with me (which probably means (a))

If you want to be kept, and you think you might be in danger of being cut, please comment to this post telling me:

(aa) You want to be kept
(bb) Why you want to stay friends (this is mostly for me, and maybe to start some awesome conversations about crack and fantastic things)

P.S.: If I pruned you by mistake, and wasn't supposed to. You can comment and tell me I'm a douche, and I'll re-friend you. (Though you might need to remind me, because obviously my mind is f*ed in the a if I forgot about you... which is sad, but not surprising, knowing me)

It's been a long time in coming, so I think now's as good as any.

Have a great weekend guys!

Txt Fic: #1 (Merlin, NC-17, Slash)

2008-12-24T01:34:48Z

Title: Text Porn 1
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word Count: 73
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: Drabble of Merling/Arthur sex
Notes: Because there is little more amusing than text people porny fun.
In Which: Laura texts scifijunkie porn, because it amuses both of them.

Text Porn 1

Arthur groaned roughly, hips bucking up into Merlin's not-so-tight fist. His fingers gripped the bed linens, knuckles white; and when he opened his eyes, he saw Merlin smirking down at him. "Fuck you." Merlin let out a low chuckle as he leaned down to press his face into the side of Arthur's neck, fingers tightening around Arthur's cock, making the Crown Prince groan again. "Not tonight. I think you've got it turned around."

ANNOUNCEMENT FRIENDS LIST (regarding NC-17 fics)

2008-12-22T00:14:55Z

Hey all! *waves* Special announcement:

I've realized I am a sodding idiot and no longer have any idea why my NC-17 fic are F-Locked. I had a discussion with varethane, and was just kind of enlightened to the fact that I've been completely daft F-Locking it all.

So, as of December 21, 2008 (aka: today), my NC-17 fics are no longer Friends Locked.

Um... yea... Just wanted to tell you all. XD I feel a little ridiculous. But I've been thinking about this for awhile now, and decided now is as good a time as any to go ahead and do it. You know, the holidays and all of that. ♥

Happy Holiday Everybody!!!

Dental Work & Bosses Apartment

2008-12-17T07:55:07Z

Okay gang, a few things:

(1) We've been moving out of our office in West LA, and between moving all my office shit to my bosses apartment (where I'll be working until the 23rd and in where she can see my computer screen & I won't be able to shit off at work... *woe*). This means I probably won't be writing any porn at work for awhile now...

(2) I went to the dentist today to the dentist to find my peg of tooth under my temporary with an inflamed nerve and even after enough shots to numb half my face, breathing through my mouth still made me wine in pain and clutch the arm rests so hard I thought I'd break the chair or myself. I've been sleeping all of today and am going back to sleep after this post.

Attention Fic Readers *smiles and waves and ducks thrown fruit*

(3) Sorry about going lax on my comment responses. I should be all caught up now. If I didn't reply to a comment of yours, I'm sorry - I probably accidentally deleted the email LJ sent me, in which case I have lose record of it because my brain is feeble, and I'll probably find it a ways down the line and respond some weeks/months in the future.

(4) Sorry (again) on the delay on the fifth and last "Fantastic" chapter (well, maybe not last...). The afore mentioned office move has been taking a toll - as well as my random inspirations to write random porn at work (instead of F5). I promise I'll have it done soon. Today was going to be that day until I found myself drowning my pain away with motrin and beer (sadly, I am completely serious).

(5) If you friended me so I would friend you back so you can read my NC-17 stuff after it's F-locked, and I have not yet friended you, it's probably because you haven't left a comment saying that. I typically don't really friend people who friend me randomly. But if you ask for me to friend you back for the NC-17 fic, I will.

Hope all's well!!

Fic: Black Eyes & Bruised Ribs (Merlin, NC-17, Slash)

2008-12-15T23:20:22Z

Wat? Yes... I am writing more porn at work...

Title: Black Eyes & Bruised Ribs
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word Count: 1,692
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: It all added up to the fact that now, some three years from coming to Camelot, Merlin is still Arthur's manservant, but he's also one of his sparring partners, his hand to hand fighting partner, and the only servant whose willing (and capable) of rolling his eyes at the Crown Prince, dodging the blow that follows, and side stepping to the side to land (a rather bitchy and insulting) slap to the side of said prince's face.
In Which: Arthur and Merlin fight... and then they have sex; and the story goes from normal, to slightly cracky, to fluff - and the author is confused.
Inspired: A whole little comment conversation over here at face_of_bradley

Black Eyes & Bruised Ribs

"What do you think you were doing?" The door's shut now, slammed behind Arthur after he pushed (well, shoved would be a better word) Merlin into the room. "Are you a complete idiot? My father may be old, but he isn't dead yet."

Arthur doesn't shout when he's angry. He's been taught too well. A child of royalty whose taught that screaming one's head off is unacceptable and utterly un-kingly.

It doesn't mean he's any less frightening for it. Because instead he's just a little too intense, a little too cold, a little too crisp. His features go hard, his eyes dark, jaw tight. Sometimes he paces, or sits, or just stands there. But Merlin and Arthur have been together for years now, and now - now Arthur just gets in his face, presses in until there's no more personal space, presses all the air out of Merlin's lungs, and stares him down like he's trying to light his manservant on fire with the intensity of it all.

When he first started doing it, it freaked Merlin the fuck out.

Now Merlin stands there and stares back. A little too blasé, a little too relaxed, a little too soft. His features cool and collected, eyes almost dancing with hidden humor that drives Arthur up the wall and back, jaw almost loose enough that he should be breathing out his mouth instead of his nose. He's never paced. Sometimes he would go around and start to clean the room, keeping himself busy as Arthur raged. He doesn't do that anymore - now he just stands there and takes it, stands there and stares back at Arthur coolly.

"You can't save my life if you don't have a head."

Merlin rolls his eyes.

It's something he's been working on; because while his calm during Arthur's storms pisses the bloody fuck out of the prince, the eye rolling is something completely different.

The first time Merlin rolled his eyes during one of their fights, Arthur nearly hit him in the face. He didn't. (Merlin would find out the main reason was because Arthur was... well, Arthur, and Merlin was a skinny little manservant who probably would have had his skull cracked open on impact.)

Punching someone in anger is one thing. Cracking their skull open and thus killing the person who'd usually have to clean up the mess - something completely different.

Apparently, a year or so down the line when Merlin was starting to get the hang of having a sword in his hands and was starting to not look like a complete idiot when Arthur had them spar, he had enough muscle mass and a hard enough head that when he rolled his eyes during another argument (something about how Merlin was a sorcerer and how badly Uther was going to kill both of them when he found out about the whole thing), Arthur had no qualms with reeling back and landing his fist solidly in Merlin's face.

In the two years since then, Arthur not only developed a habit of smacking the eye roll out of Merlin, but had developed the nasty habit of getting his anger out by just plain smacking Merlin around; which, at first, had lead to one rather badly bruised and battered sorcerer, but also turned out to be a fantastic incentive to learn what the fuck to do in a fight.

It all added up to the fact that now, some three years from coming to Camelot, Merlin is still Arthur's manservant, but he's also one of his sparring partners, his hand to hand fighting partner, and the only servant whose willing (and capable) of rolling his eyes at the Crown Prince, dodging the blow that follows, and side stepping to the side to land (a rather bitchy and insulting) slap to the side of said prince's face.

Arthur lets out a low growl - part annoyance, part anger, part something else completely - and turns on Merlin. He doesn't move to punch him again, doesn't even do the feint and a leg swipe, but instead does a full, completely committed and accurate, lunge forward, bringing them both to the ground with a thud of Merlin's back and grunt as the air washes out of his lungs as he's squished between floor and prince.

The fight starts to die out with Merlin tasting copper, blood smeared over his chin from a split lip, left eye a little swollen and soon to be bruised and black. Arthur's wheezing ever so slightly around two bruised ribs, and his throat has a distinct red hand print wrapped around it from a minor bought of choking as Merlin attempted to keep his kidney from being obliterated by the prince's knee.

It ends, though, with Arthur's hands up Merlin's shirt, cool and calloused and wandering over familiar pale skin and flat chest. Ends with Arthur sucking on Merlin's ear as Merlin decides to go from just panting under Arthur, fingers caught up in his red tunic, to scrambling for the prince's pants.

It's no longer a fight, and something completely different, when Merlin gets his hands down Arthur's pants, fingering the coarse curls there. Above him, Arthur growls out something low and feral. He looks down with hot eyes, and pulls Merlin's hands from him long enough for them to scramble out of there own clothes. It takes fractions of a minute before their clashing together again with the sound of clinking teeth and harsh, panting breaths.

They've only been doing this for a year. After the fighting started. After the truths came out. After that fight in the forest a little over a year ago, when they stumbled across something too big and too dangerous - something that dragged up too many memories - and Merlin took it down before Arthur's sword stopped ringing from being unsheathed.

After Arthur started calling Gwen, Guinevere, and they started spending time together in a way they hadn't ever before - a way they haven't since this whole thing started. And sometimes that makes Merlin's chest hurt in a way he's not sure will ever go away. And sometimes Gwen looks at him with kind eyes and tells him 'it's okay' without saying anything. And sometimes Arthur says it out loud.

But mostly his chest is a swirl of something warm and giddy and shockingly delightful. It's inspired by the looks Arthur gives him in crowded rooms, when he silently says 'I'd rather it be us.' And it explodes in him when Arthur's hands are against his bare skin, lips pressed against his - when their skin is slick with sweat and they're writhing against each other frantically, as though they're two halves who are lost and have finally found the thing that makes them the whole.

Merlin's eye roll turns into the familiar feeling of Arthur between his legs, hot and slick and half crazed with desperation and need and something that might even be love. It becomes the toe curling pleasure of Arthur sliding into him, their bodies rocking together, dispensing with the foreplay and jetting straight through to dampen the need and the want and the lust.

Merlin stretches out, long and tense and hard, and his head tilts back, and the floor is hard under him, Arthur hot above. His breath hisses out of his throat in gasping pants that say ridiculous things like 'yours' and 'mine' and 'forever'.

Arthur's fingers bruise Merlin's hips as he thrusts forward. He curls down and stares at Merlin's face that's slack and tense at the same time, contorted in an expression Arthur's sure has only been seen by him. His fingers grip desperately at Merlin, hard and brash and bruising and desperate, and it terrifies him that they say things like 'mine' and 'yours' and 'eternity'.

He removes a hand and his fingers glide lightly over Merlin, wrapping around his heat, thumb brushing over the head. Under him, Merlin takes in a choking gasp, and Arthur breathes deep to say, "Look at me," and his heart still skips - even after a year - when Merlin complies, without hesitation.

Merlin would rather have his head back, rather be stretched out and long, than curling his neck forward and looking up. But staring into Arthur's eyes, hot and blue and on fire - there's nothing he'd rather be looking at, and it makes his heart stop for a fleeting moment, the pounding in his head, the thrumming through his body, suddenly falling silent for a split second.

And Arthur looks so serious, even as lust and pleasure and want and need and something that might be love, flitter over his face and in his eyes, and he says, "Mine."

Merlin nods, unquestioning, and responds with, "Yours," and Arthur stiffens, thrusting hard into Merlin two, three times, hand squeezed tight around Merlin's cock. Arthur's breath hitches as he thrusts a final time into Merlin, his wrist making a jerking twisting motion around Merlin's dick, thumb glancing over the head one more time, and Merlin's back is arched of the ground, coming over their stomachs and Arthur lets out a soft noise at Merlin's clenched muscles.

Merlin goes slack on the ground, panting roughly, Arthur sliding down to lay on top of him - weight heavy but comfortable, familiar and perfect.

"The face should be off limits."

Arthur murmurs it into Merlin's shoulder. They haven't moved. They won't move for awhile, since neither of them have anywhere they need to be - well, other than the bed, which would be nice.

Merlin lets out a low, confused chuckle. "Hm?" He didn't get Arthur in the face, so he doesn't really see the problem.

"Your mouth tastes like blood," Arthur fills in. He's making a valiant effort in lifting himself, smirking down and licking Merlin's lips softly before claiming a kiss. When he pulls back, he's still smirking. "And I wouldn't call your black eye sexy."

With an aggravated snort, Merlin suppresses the desire to push against Arthur's tender ribs, and settles for, "I'd watch your back," which makes Arthur snort and duck down to claim another kiss.

:: END ::

FIC: Punches of Love (Merlin, NC-17, Slash)

2008-12-13T01:25:12Z

Title: Punches of Love
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word Count: 1,838
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: Basically, the whole thing ended up meaning that, while Merlin still couldn’t go one on one with the prince for more than a few rounds with a sword, he had put some muscle weight on himself over the two years he’d been being pushed the bloody fuck around by said prince, and could hold himself in a one on one fist fight.
In Which: Arthur ~~is rather stupid~~ doesn't learn, and Merlin has to keep him in check.
Inspired: By This whole thing, and ultimatly by leandergasped about Arthur/Merlin fighting and bleeding.

Punches of Love

Merlin had gotten better at fighting, mainly because Uther, while older, wasn’t really old, and he was chugging away just fine at being king for freaking ever, and while Merlin could do magic (and had started – finally – learning what subtlety mean) he still rather liked his head where it was, and didn’t want to have to risk fleeing the kingdom (and his great ‘destiny of being Arthur’s ass-whipping boy’) if he got found out.

Basically, the whole thing ended up meaning that, while Merlin still couldn’t go one on one with the prince for more than a few rounds with a sword, he had put some muscle weight on himself over the two years he’d been being pushed the bloody fuck around by said prince, and could hold himself in a one on one fist fight.

They found this out the hard way about a year ago when the fight hadn’t been so fair, and when Merlin had, in a moment of ever loving idiocy, finally broken down and punched Arthur in the face, instead of letting the prince put an arrow through the heart of the white stag that ghosted around Camelot’s forests.

It was one of those ‘hello, do we remember the unicorn incident’ moments, and had ended with a not so dark bruise on the side of Arthur’s face, and a rather nasty black eye on Merlin’s.

It was also the beginning of a rather long tradition of ‘listen to me when I tell you shit or I will punch you – as long as we are alone.’ Which had also been around the same time Merlin started taking this whole ‘get into shape’ thing a little more serious, as well as his footwork and taking advantage of exactly how fast a runner he really was.

It also mean, two years into the agonizing suffering that was being Arthur’s manservant – because no matter what Arthur said about the duties Merlin didn’t do, he still did do plenty – when Merlin looked over and found Arthur cocking his bow and aiming for a white eagle (good god, why couldn’t Arthur just stay away from the white animals – was it really so bloody hard), Merlin felt no hesitation in grabbing at the bow and bodily ripping it from Arthur’s arms. The action was accompanied with a shallow snort, an eye roll, and finally a tense glare over at the prince who was glaring straight back at him.

“What the Hell, Merlin?”

And, by the dragon under the castle, was Arthur really so dense? “White eagle?”

Arthur stared back at him rather blankly. “I have eyes.” Which was Arthur’s equivalent of ‘no shit, duh.’

Merlin shut his eyes for a moment, letting out a soft groan of pain, before looking back at Arthur. “Have you ever seen one of those before?”

A pause. “No.” Which was the prince’s way of saying, ‘and that’s why I was going to kill it…’.

He probably should have restrained himself and gone with something of a ‘and what do we know about things we have never seen before?’ or even a ‘You do remember the unicorn, right?’ – but instead, of course, because this was Merlin’s life and he couldn’t, apparently, keep himself from mucking up a perfectly good conversation, Merlin just punched him.

If he’d thought that a light punch, more of a tap, really, would have gotten him out of the consequences, he might have tried to pull it off as his fist was hurtling toward Arthur’s face. But a year of punching and wrestling had taught Merlin important lessons, such as committing, which was why Merlin’s fist landed solidly into the side of Arthur’s face with enough force to make his knuckles hurt, and dismount the prince.

The latter, had not been intentional.

Not that Arthur would really care or believe that.

Which was why, though he wasn’t sure exactly how, Merlin found himself dragged to the ground, fiercely attempting to guard his kidneys and face, at the same time as trying to get Arthur the mother-loving fuck off of him, or land a blow to either said place on the prince’s body to achieve the former.

Which was also how he ended up having the most horrendous ringing in his left ear, along with something warm and thick dripping down his neck, around the same time his elbow finally crashed into Arthur’s temple, knocking his head back and splitting the prince’s eyebrow, stunning him enough that Merlin was able to bring one leg up, knee pressing into Arthur’s chest before the prince quite realized what he was doing, and pushing.

He would have just, kind of, hauled the prince off of him – he’d done it before, which was how he knew this actually worked.

Unfortunately a knock to the head and bleeding from the eyebrow, wasn’t quite enough to completely knock Arthur’s senses from him – which may or may not have been a surprise to Merlin – and he managed to reach down, thick fingers grabbing Merlin’s shoulder and hauling Merlin along with him as he was thrust backward.

Arthur landed with a thud on his back, and Merlin with a grunt as he attempted to catch himself and dislodge himself at the same moment, which left them in a position that might have been awkward if they hadn’t been doing this already for some time now and weren’t full and well use to being right up in each other’s business about near enough everything.

They stopped for a moment, a hesitant lull in battle, each still tense and not quite accepting the silence on the other side, but they were both bruised and bleeding and sweating, breathing more than a little ragged and hard, and quite well enough worn out about the whole thing. Merlin, for one, was well about finished – seeing as he’d never really intended to start the battle in the first place – and Arthur seemed relatively satisfied with his revenge for having been punched in the first place.

“So, what exactly was that all about again?”

Merlin, still gaining his breath, leaned his head down, resting his sweaty forehead on Arthur’s shoulder as he explained, “White eagle.”

He felt Arthur nod under him. “Right. Right. White eagle.” There was a question there, even if he didn’t say it. Another thing about Arthur – always unwilling to relent; and, if possible, he’d become even more stubborn over the years and was just about unwilling to ask anything of Merlin at all. Which would have been awkward, Merlin being his manservant and all, if they didn’t know each other so God damned well, that really, questions weren’t needed at all.

“You do still remember the ‘unicorn incident,’ right, Sire?”

There was a short pause. Arthur never liked talking about the ‘unicorn incident.’ “And the white stag.”

“And the white stag.”

Just starting to regain his breath, Merlin didn’t move when large, paws of hands landed on his hips, hot against his already flushed body. “You’re bleeding from the ear, Merlin.”

Rightly enough, it was probably good he was resting on the shoulder he was, because he still couldn’t hear anything out of said ear. “I guess I am. Though, you’re bleeding from the head, so really…”

Arthur snorted under him, body shuddering with it, and the warm nose that pressed into Merlin’s neck, wasn’t all that unexpected. “But you know how I like your ears.” Grinning into Arthur’s shoulder, a low sound choked out from deep in his throat, as Arthur held him in place and ground his hips upward. “And now I’m limited to only one of them, which is a tragedy.”

“I’m sure you’ll get over it.” His breath hitched as Arthur’s mouth opened, warm and hot against his neck, teething at his throat dryly. “As sure as I am that there is no permanent injury.”

The teeth were replaced, once against by a warm, nuzzling nose, this time butting against Merlin’s ear, Arthur’s breaths loud and deafening. “I don’t hurt my play toys.” Merlin had first been insulted when Arthur first started referring to him as a ‘play toy’ – partly because, well, come on, and second, well… come on. Now, he was pretty much over it.

Merlin made a noise of disagreement, now panting into Arthur’s shoulder as their hips rocked against each other heavily. “That, is laughable.” His hands had found their way to Arthur’s body, fingers digging into Arthur’s arms, clutching the prince with a grip that would leave more bruises.

Arthur’s lips parted to toothlessly nibble at the shell of Merlin’s ear, eliciting another half-noise and a jerked thrust forward of Merlin’s hips. He let out a light breath of a chuckle around the ear. “Come on, Merlin.” His voice was low and gruff, grating into Merlin’s ear through hot breath and warm lips, as they grinded against each other.

And really, it was a little embarrassing, the noises that managed to slip through his lips – because he sure as bloody hell hadn’t meant to make that one, something between a moan and a keen, and utterly devastating. “Arthur,” and if it sounded like he was irritated, it was only because he was. He wanted hands under his shirt, in his pants – skin on skin, and none of this juvenile teenage dry humping.

Hips rolled up into him, Arthur’s own hardness straining under his britches and clashing with Merlin’s, making them both let out groaned breaths. Arthur’s hands tightened on Merlin’s hips, lips wet as he mouthed words into Merlin’s ear. “Merlin.”

Their pace was frantic and wild and had lost any semblance of a rhythm some time ago, leaving Merlin to moan wordlessly into Arthur’s shoulder, pulling at Arthur’s arms, eyes squeezed shut tightly as his nerves went hot on fire that crept quickly into his belly, making his muscles tense and his breath hitch in his throat, cutting off the moans as they descended into panting, wheezing breaths.

“Emrys.”

And suddenly he was unraveling. Like hitting a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour, except it was an explosion of heat and pleasure and release, making his body go as stiff as stone as he came in his pants, grinding up his boyfriend like he was fifteen again, moaning, “Arthur,” thick and hot until the prince stiffened under him, fingers tightening on Merlin’s hips until the pressure threatened to break him in half; leaving them panting and loose, bleeding and sweating all over each other in the middle of a maze of trees.

As Merlin slowly gained control over his breathing, not having felt the need or desire to even twitch a muscle from collapsing on top of Arthur, the prince’s hot hands slid under his shirt and up his back. “It’s been awhile since we’ve done that.”

Merlin snorted lowly. “Because I rather prefer not making a mess on myself.”

“I was talking about the hunting sex.”

Merlin’s lips cracked into a loose smiled from where his face was still pressed into Arthur’s shoulder. “Oh, that.”

:: END ::

Fic: Changes (Merlin, R, Slash)

2008-12-12T19:20:31Z

Title: Changes
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word Count: 1,467
Rating: R
Pairing: Arthur/Merlin
Summary: It’s completely legitimate that after the whole ‘sacrificing’ thing – that Merlin will really just not leave alone – that he’d become more aware of his servant.
In Which: Arthur looses his cool, and Merlin keeps his.
Request: Over here, by wistful_fever Merlin/Arthur. First Time Fic, set sometime after 1x11 just because. Jealous!Arthur is Jealous! Sex in Merlin's room, and they have to be quiet! But, and no snickering now, it's so hard!

Changes

Arthur doesn’t know if it was nearly dying, or nearly dying to save Merlin’s life – which he would never attest to, because really, he’d known all along it was a test to save the kingdom, so it wasn’t really just Merlin’s life, but all the lives of the people in Camelot – but either way, something changes after the whole ‘unicorn incident.’

He thinks Merlin’s been shoved around by the Camelot knights for as long as he’s been in the city, and he thinks said knights might have had Merlin doing chores for them for all the months he’s been Arthur’s manservant, and he’s sure as bloody hell positive he never cared about any of it, but he doesn’t really notice until after they come back from the labyrinth, after they bury the unicorns horn.

It’s completely legitimate that after the whole ‘sacrificing’ thing – that Merlin will really just not leave alone – that he’d become more aware of his servant.

He explains this as a heightened awareness for everything around him.

Somewhere in him, he knows this is a crock load of shit, but he doesn’t like to address that part of him. It’s also the part where he wants his father to be proud of him, or something else ridiculous like that. It’s where there is still some kind of ludicrous mourning for his mother, which is completely unreasonable because he never even knew the woman. It’s a part of him where things are shoved aside and forgotten about, never to be seen or heard from again.

Except this awareness of Merlin doesn’t seem to play by the rules (which shouldn’t be any kind of surprise, because Merlin doesn’t play by the rules, so why anything else related to him should, Arthur doesn’t know).

He starts noticing when Merlin comes into his chambers to clean, and his cheeks are already pink and he’s breathing a little fast and a little heavy, and there are cuts on his finger tips from maintaining too many swords. And when Merlin is approached by knights in the yard, and thrown armor and saddles and all the things that Arthur throws at Merlin, to be maintained and cared for and looked after.

And don’t these knights have servants of their own? Because all of these demands on Merlin are starting to run Arthur’s manservant a little ragged, which only bothers him because Merlin already does a deplorable job at being any kind of servant, and he doesn’t need anything else getting in the way of his proper tasks.

He goes to Gaius’ to address the whole thing – finally broken in by the fact that his chambers haven’t been properly tended in two days, and the only sword in the armory that has not been polished, sharpened, and tended is Arthur’s main training sword that he uses on a daily basis and is rather important.

Gaius isn’t there, which is probably for the better, because every ten steps toward the impending confrontation has made Arthur’s blood hotter, and by the time he’s actually pushing through the door and crossing toward Merlin’s room, with great, wide strides – he’s downright livid about the whole thing.

The door’s already hanging slightly open, and Merlin is hunched over on his bed working on something that is most definitely not related to Arthur, and looks up, eyes widening in surprise as the flat of Arthur’s hand hits the door with a thump and sends it flying open – smashing against the wall. Merlin’s up on his feet before the bang has faded, his not-Arthur-related project sliding to the floor, and his eyes are a bright swirl of something between concern and utter confusion.

“Arthur?” The name tumbles out before he quite has a grip on himself, and quickly he changes it to, “Sire?” because something is obviously not good, in which cases, Merlin likes to do this little dance of distancing himself, but not actually leaving. A splinter that’s pain has gone away, but the dull, harmless ache makes you constantly aware that it’s there.

Like this idiotic awareness of Merlin, and everything he’s been doing for the past fortnight, that’s been driving Arthur up the wall two times Tuesday.

“My chambers need cleaning.”

They’re the first words out of Arthur’s mouth, and he would think they were rather ridiculous, if he weren’t seeing red at the moment and completely irrational to begin with.

Merlin just stands there, which makes Arthur’s muscles jump under his skin, staring at him, and it’s forever before his head cocks ever so slightly to the side, lips twitch – twitching into a smile, of all the things – and he responds with a, “I’ll get right on that,” and bends down to pick up whatever it was that he’d dropped to begin with. The thing that was distinctly not Arthur’s.

He’s stepping forward and grabbing Merlin by the bicep, before he has a clear idea of exactly what he’s doing – though this seems to work pretty well, because when he hauls Merlin up, his manservant’s eyes are again wide, and Arthur’s definitely got his attention now.

“Why are you doing chores for other knights?”

Something flitters across Merlin’s face that might be confusion, but he’s stock still in front of Arthur, tense under the iron grip of fingers on his arm. Like he has no clue what’s going on. After a hesitant moment, where he looks like he’s trying to deduce what answer is the right answer, he sticks to, “Because they tell me to,” which comes out more as a question than a statement – like he’s not sure if it’s the right answer, but it is the truth.

Silence cracks through the room, Merlin fighting not to fidget under Arthur’s hard eyes, Arthur refusing to let go, his grip tightening.

Merlin’s face goes sour, jaw clenching in resolution as he stares back at Arthur and pointedly states, “You’re hurting me,” at which point Arthur’s whole world cracks, and he’s suddenly turning them, slamming Merlin against a wall. Merlin doesn’t flinch, and somewhere in the back of Arthur’s brain he’s impressed; but he’s not thinking with his brain, it’s his gut – hot and twisted – that’s doing all the thinking.

Which is probably how he finds himself grabbing both of Merlin’s arms and kissing him hard into the wall – teeth clattering against Merlin’s mouth as he sucks the soul out of his manservant, hands sliding from Merlin’s arms, down to his britches, hooking in the waist band, curling against Merlin’s pale flesh.

Merlin makes a noise in the back of his throat. Actually, he makes a few noises, and they get filtered through Arthur’s mind with the swift preciseness as details do in battle, only the vital making through. Noises are what matter – not their meaning; and he has one steal grip curled around the back of Merlin’s neck, and his other hand down Merlin’s pants, tight around the half-hardness he finds there, when Merlin’s forearm comes up to Arthur’s throat and pushes.

For a moment the air chokes off in Arthur’s throat, combined with sharp pain in his jugular, and he’s pushed back, but not off, of Merlin.

Merlin whose lips are red and swollen, eyes quasi-glazed, but hard and sharp – and something real comes back and invades Arthur’s brain.

They stand, stock still and in each other’s space – well, Arthur in Merlin’s space – Arthur’s hand still ungracefully shoved down Merlin’s pants, fingers curled against hot hardness that’s gone from half-hard to hard, which would be a surprise, if Arthur was thinking enough to think about how rough he’s been, and the bruises that will litter pale skin for the next fortnight.

“What are you doing?” Merlin’s voice is cool, but his breath is hitched and a slight bit heavy.

If his gut weren’t still hot and twisted and a jumble of a dozen different other things, Arthur might have felt embarrassed, or shamed, or something sensical. Instead he feels the thrumming of his blood through his body, through Merlin’s body, and he’s still breathing hard, still wanting to shove Merlin back into the wall and prove his point about the whole situation. His mind putters out a thick, grating, “You don’t work for them.”

Merlin’s lips fall open for a retort – because that’s what Merlin does – and Arthur stares at him, features tense and hard and painfully sober. “You’re mine.”

There’s a heavy hesitation, a paralysis that takes up the entire room, that freezes Arthur’s racing heart long enough for him to feel as sober as he looks and sounds, suddenly making everything utterly real and blazing to light everything that could go wrong with this, and everything that already is wrong with it.

And then Merlin nods; and it’s neither hesitant nor slow, but quick, complete, and decisive – and it’s all Arthur needs.

FIC: Possibly Slightly Fantastic (Merlin, R, Slash)

2008-12-11T07:44:00Z

Title: Possibly Slightly Fantastic
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word Count: 2,293
Rating: R
Pairing: Merlin/Knight, Arthur watching
Summary: Apparently someone hates him, because even when he isn't having porny images of his manservant shagging burned into his brain, things still don't go quite right.
In Which: Arthur's a bit of a ass, Baiwen is magnanimous, and Merlin is in the stocks.
I am aware...: Don't worry. Don't worry. scifijunkie is already on my ass about the lack of porn in this segment... She promises you that I will make it up to you all.
Prequel:
(1) Not All That Fantastic
(2) Maybe A Little Fantastic, But That Was It
(3) Scratch That, Not At All Fantastic

[This is what you get when you mix plot with porn -- A segment without porn, for plot's sake]

Possibly Slightly Fantastic

Arthur woke up early, which he solely and completely blamed on Merlin, rightfully so. Due to his manservant’s nightly activities, he not only hadn’t been able to get his glass of milk, but he’d barely been able to go back to sleep at all. Hot and bothered, Merlin’s piercing blue eyes and sweat slicked skin burning images into his brain – and those words.

“I don’t think he’d care.”

Those words.

How could Merlin think he wouldn’t care? After all, Merlin was his servant – and his activities were making him do a rather poor job of it. Doubt it, Merlin seemed to have problems being a proper servant to begin with – so the fact that anything would be hindering already stunted abilities, had turned him into something from ‘horrible manservant’ bordering closely on ‘atrocious manservant.’

Of course, that was the only reason Arthur cared about it. At that, the beast in his chest grumbled irritatingly, and Arthur shoved it away, again.

It was getting harder, to ignore the heat in his chest that was something similar to anger and frustration, and something else he refused to acknowledge all together. Not that he didn’t manage to get over it well enough. After all, Merlin could do what he wanted, just as long as it didn’t interfere with his duties… Which this was, but Arthur wasn’t about to talk to him about it or anything.

The morning air was crisp and cool, threatening to make the skin over his arms prickle over with goosebumps, and succeeding in making the small hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention.

He could have lazed around in bed, waited for Merlin to show up to help him dress and get ready for the day. Could lay in bed haunted by thoughts of last night – and two other, rather remarkable, nights – and shift around uncomfortable and restless. Could be haunted by blue eyes and rough words.

Or he could get himself out of bed, dress on his own – because he was, despite whatever Merlin had to say about it, perfectly capable of dressing himself – and go out.

It was too early for much of anyone to be up; and other than the morning servants who were already starting to prod the castle to life, and a few knights who seemed to be as restless as he, it was still.

Dropping down to the armory, and pointedly ignoring the far wall and memories of an action that may or may not have taken place there, he belted his sword and grabbed a bow and light armor, and walked out. It would be a good morning for a brisk hunt, even if the point wasn’t really to catch anything, and after getting the attention of a few of Baiwen’s men – who apparently were the earlier risers this morning – he had a small crew of suitable size, to go along with him.

No matter what Arthur had started thinking of Baiwen – and he refused to even consider the idea that it was the idea of Baiwen boning his manservant that had put that bitterness in the back of his throat when he thought about the man – his knights were good men. Before leaving the castle walls, the friendly banter had started, banter between men who fought for a living and had killed before, men who worked for the king, and appreciated the youth of the prince; and Arthur’s lips curved into a smooth smile.

The piercing blue eyes stopped haunting him before they were half to the forest – drown out by crude comments and boisterous jokes and thick laughter.

It was a surprise, to ride back into Camelot with a young stag hanging over the back of his horse.

Even more of a surprise to follow the loud, gleeful shouts of young children, and find his manservant suffering in the stocks – again. And that was when he remembered about the meeting he had been ordered to attend with his father.

The beast in his chest paced, almost content, and he had a fleeting thought that was satisfaction at the idea that, at least Merlin wasn’t off being frisked somewhere, if he was bolted down with rotten vegetables draped over his head.

Content, until Merlin looked up, attention either drawn by the quick scattering of children and lack of food-throwing, or the sound of the horses themselves, and eyed Arthur. The resigned smile that seemed to plaster his face every time he found himself bent over and chained down in the public square, faltered for a moment, brow tightening, before his features calmed again and he looked away.

Baiwen’s men took the stag, and Arthur broke leave for the armory, in need of discarding his bow and trading the heavier, battle-ready sword currently at his side, for something more appropriate for wandering the castle and approaching his father to apologize for his morning absence.

He was nearly finished with the whole affair, sword back on the rack, finishing wiping down the long dagger that slid into his boot, the one he used to slash the stag’s neck and bleed it with, when the door behind him opened. Nothing unnatural, because it was well into the morning by now and it was perfectly normal for knights to be coming in and out as training resumed throughout the day.

It was the low, uncomfortably familiar voice, that he had not expected. A voice he knew more from the last fortnight, than any previous conversations; gruff and low and laced with something that might have been mild irritation and disappointment – of all things – that said, “I’d rather you not take it out on him. He’s done nothing wrong.”

The heat in Arthur’s chest swelled and bowed, threatening to break loose, and he thought it wasn’t the brightest idea, for Baiwen to approach him in a house full of weapons – particularly when one was conveniently in his hands already. Taking a half second to take a breath and demanding calm and reserve over himself, Arthur straightened and turned. “What are you talking about?” He wasn’t going to insult Baiwen by playing a fool, but he really, honest to God, didn’t understand what the man was saying. “I’m not taking anything out on him.”

Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. The beast in his chest roared horribly, angered even more when Baiwen had the nerve to frown at him.

“You could have said something, instead of having him thrown in the stocks for the day.”

And finally it dawned on him, and he understood Baiwen’s disapproval, and the look on Merlin’s face, when he had looked up at him, blue eyes flickering what Arthur probably thought was annoyance and rebellion and maybe hurt, from behind a head of rotten vegetable slicked hair. The beast behind his ribs stopped roaring, simmered down to a low growl and an endless pacing.

“I didn’t-” Arthur wanted to shake his head, say that he didn’t have to explain himself to Baiwen or anyone else, but it was clear that the man in front of him believed he had crossed a line, and this was not a fight worth having, not a ghost worth having haunt him. Instead he shook his head and answered with a flat, “I didn’t do it on purpose. What you… do… It’s none of my business.”

They stared each other down for a long moment, before Baiwen finally relented, nodded, and turned to leave.

He hadn’t planned on saying anything, because he was right – nothing of what Merlin and this man did was any of his business – but the beast flared, and the words crawled up and out his throat despite whatever he knew he should think. “You have a wife and children, Baiwen – don’t make my manservant useless when you leave.” Which was as close as he was going to get to saying anything like that ever again; but despite whatever Merlin did on kitchen tables and in stables, and whatever the heat in his chest roared at him about, Merlin was still something, only a little bit, of a friend.

Baiwen paused, held in place. He didn’t turn around, but nodded in understanding. “You haven’t any reason to be concerned. Merlin is perfectly aware of the situation.” And walked out, not looking back.

Arthur was left alone in the armory, the beast in his chest snapping unhappily, having demanded violence and gotten nothing but the tightly curled fists at Arthur’s sides, the biting pain of his short nails digging into his palms. Of course he didn’t have any reason to be concerned – that was a ridiculous notion.

Then again, he’d said that. Said it because he was concerned, for Merlin’s well being – though he refused to believe it was for any other reason than he didn’t want to have to suffer any further difficulties with an already not so fantastic manservant.

“Merlin is perfectly aware of the situation.”

A low growl leaked out from between clenched teeth, and he turned, his fist landing solidly against stone wall, knuckles grating and pain lancing up his arm, through his shoulder and down his back.

Good God, this was Merlin – his manservant. Why did he even care what the clumsy git did? Because really, he was trying so hard to deny it, but he did care, even if the reason was beyond comprehension. Merlin was a servant, a helping hand to get him up and dressed and into armor, to serve him food and wine and make sure he was comfortable at all times of the day and at need for naught – and he was horrible at it.

Merlin deserved more of Arthur feeling frustrated and wanting to fire him, than he did of Arthur feeling… whatever this was.

His fist hit the wall again, hard, breaking skin and letting warm blood leak from his knuckles and between his fingers. God damn it, why did Merlin have to do such an incredible job of mucking up his life? The little prick. He was prince, he wasn’t supposed to be agonizing over a servant.

Not that he was agonizing.

He let his hand fall to his side, cupping his fingers in a rather poor attempt to keep blood from dripping all over the armory floor – of all the ironic things – grabbed his display sword, and started out toward Gaisus’ chambers to get a dressing for his hand, and perhaps something else to help him sleep.

By the time Merlin got out of the stocks, Baiwen was gone, making Arthur feel even more like an ass than he had when Baiwen approached him and accused him of the whole ‘punishment’ thing in the first place; and he had to admit that he was rather surprised when Merlin showed up, hair still wet from washing himself off, but still smelling ever so slightly sour.

Arthur didn’t say anything when Merlin entered his chambers, and Merlin didn’t say anything to him in return, though he paused for a moment, apparently having not expected to find the prince there and now second guessing his dedication to his duties. Something must have weighed more than the desire to leave, because Merlin finally closed the door behind him and walked into the room, bending down to pick up a stray boot, before moving to the bed and the pile of discarded hunting clothes and atrociously unmade bed.

He was picking up the twin to the boot he already held, when he finally spoke. “I don’t much mind covering for you when you want to have a lay in, but I really would rather know about it in advance.” His voice was steady and almost clipped, but not the same, thick, demanding tone that Arthur could still hear clearly whenever he thought of Merlin, commanding Baiwen, to be fucked.

The beast in his chest sneered. “Why, did you have plans?” And he hadn’t meant for it to come out quite like that, haughty and mocking.

Arthur didn’t turn around, but he could practically feel the temperature in the room drop, and Merlin stiffen behind him.

“No. But I do have a rather limited wardrobe, and I appreciate advanced warning, so I can wear something that already needs laundering.” There was a thick thud as the boots hit the floor roughly. “Unlike some people, I don’t have the luxury of wearing something new and washed every day.”

That was uncomfortable. Arthur shifted in his seat, looking over his shoulder at Merlin who was glaring harshly down at a pair of boots that, really, hadn’t ever done anything to him to deserve a look like that. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t think-”

Merlin snorted roughly, head snapping up, hard blue eyes turning on Arthur. “Of course not. You probably just thought I wanted to get one last wicked shag in.” He stared Arthur down for a moment longer before looking away, as though suddenly realizing he was doing something completely inappropriate, and quickly crossed the room, fingers on the door before Arthur had completely stood up. “I’m sorry, Sire.”

“Merlin.” He couldn’t help that the corners of his lips twitched, or that the word came out as an exasperated sigh. He was just thankful he’d stopped. For a second there, he thought Merlin was going to actually walk out the door.

“Good night then.”

And then he was walking out the door. Slipping into the hall before Arthur could blink, much less take a breath or try to stop him – and by that time, the door had already clicked shut behind him, leaving Arthur alone in his still dirty chambers, feeling a strange twist where the heat of angry beast had been prowling for the last fortnight.

He didn’t like this new feeling any better.

Next: Okay, Amazingly Fantastic

Fic: Scratch That, Not At All Fantastic (Merlin, NC-17, Slash)

2008-12-09T18:21:38Z

Title: Scratch That, Not At All Fantastic
Author: bakarini
Genre: Gen, Slash
Word Count: 1,392
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Merlin/Knight, Arthur watching
Summary: Arthur wonders how long Merlin's been having semi-secluded sex in the castle, because either Merlin was better at being sneaky, or destiny likes to fuck with his mind. Because he just keeps on walking in on his manservant doing not so apropriate things.
In Which: Arthur is a 'before bed milk drinker,' and Merlin takes advantage of the kitchen's thick doors.
Prequel:
(1) Not All That Fantastic
(2) Maybe A Little Fantastic, But That Was It

Scratch That, Not At All Fantastic

It was the middle of the night and he couldn’t quite get back to sleep. There had been a cute little kitchen girl, Margaret – who really wasn’t a girl at all; she was the daughter of Arthur’s wet nurse. Not the child she’d had at the same time as Arthur – that had been a baby boy of her own, and he had not survived. Margaret, was four years Arthur’s senior, a barren widow who enjoyed a roll in the hay every once in awhile, and since – well, barren and widow were two pretty good words for a prince to having a tryst with, they met each other more often than not.

Not that she was the only one; but Arthur was comfortable with her, as she with him. She didn’t question his moods and didn’t talk incessantly. She kept to herself and didn’t grow attached to him, and honestly it was the best sexual relationship a guy could ask for.

Outside of being able to go around having semi-public sex around Camelot’s castle.

It had been nearly a week since finding Merlin and Baiwen in the stables, and the memories haunted him as though he only just walked in on them the previous evening. And he’d had quite enough of his own hand, because pleasuring yourself could only do you so much; and for the last few nights, Margaret had been helping him with his late night restlessness.

She would stay for awhile. Stay until he would drift off to sleep, and then would slide from the bed and slip away back to her own quarters.

He’d never told her to. Never would tell her to. In fact, more than once he’d attempted to convince her to stay the night, and every time she just smiled at him, a sparkle of laughter dancing in her bright eyes, and would shake her head. She didn’t give an answer, but he wasn’t stupid. She was a widow, had been married and been expecting a child. She enjoyed the company, liked being physical, and enjoyed the companioned silence as the lay together afterwards. She liked to watch him drift off into sleep, combing her fingers through his hair, feeling another body next to hers – even if it wasn’t the man she wanted it to be.

He’d fallen asleep like every other night she visited, but it had been light and restless, and he woke up hot and with his legs itching to move. The patch of bed to his side still lingered warmth from where Margaret had laid, and the thing in his chest rumbled lowly. He shoved it aside along with the blankets, as he stood, pulled on a pair of pants and slid into one of his casual training shirts, and padded out barefoot.

He could call a servant to get him something from the kitchens, a glass of cold milk, still thick with the thick froth foam on it – but his legs twitched and itched and his muscles burned to be active, and really, there was nobody awake at this hour and it would be more of ahassle to get a servant than to just go down there an get it himself.

Besides, he wanted to walk. Needed to stretch his legs if he had any hope of getting back to bed.

The kitchen doors were thick, heavy wood that locked in the sounds of banging pots and bustling servants, of chef’s shouting and things being knocked over. Great for not being able to have to hear metal clattering throughout the castle halls, not so great when you were going to get a midnight drink and were supposed to be watching out for sexual trysts happening between your manservant and one of your father’s knights.

Arthur pushed through the door and was well into the kitchen, a step and a half to be exact, door just about to fall away from his hand, when he jerked to a halt in his tracks. Half naked Baiwen was sitting on the edge of one of the long kitchen tables, Merlin kneeled on the table over him, naked – fully and completely, no half-torn shirt, no pants around his ankles – riding the knight hard, his pale, sweat slicked legs glistening in the light of the slumbering coals in the large kitchen fireplace behind them.

He’d always thought Merlin was rather skinny. Flesh and bone and that was about it.

But Merlin was more than that. He was pale skin and taunt muscle, wiry and bony, only emphasized when he was like this – fingers gripping roughly into Baiwen’s bare shoulders, nails almost breaking skin, thighs flexing with every transfer of motion from almost sitting in Baiwen’s lap, to bringing himself up – up until Baiwen’s thick, glistening cock was almost completely free – and back down, slamming down and impaling himself on the man.

This Merlin had taut muscle, developed from a life of labor in fields, of carrying and picking and throwing and playing and sowing.

This Merlin was long and lean, was strong and experienced and demanding. He threw his head back and let out loud groans of pleasure, protected by the thick doors of the kitchen, and urged on by low, wordless murmurs of Baiwen, who clutched a bony hip in one large, massive paw of a hand, as the other slid up Merlin’s back, pulling Merlin into him as he leaned forward to press his lips to sweat slicked, white skin.

This Merlin made little choking noises in the back of his throat as Baiwen sucked his nipples and bruised his hips. He rode Baiwen harder as the knight abandoned the second perked, spit slicked bud and went back to the first, mouthing something against Merlin’s skin before baring his teeth and biting down, making Merlin let out another loud noise, something between a moan and a keening cry.

“Baiwen.”

The thing in Arthur’s chest, the prowling heat that seemed to constantly be angry, the thing he’d been consistently ignoring – roared, furious. And although Arthur knew what the thing was, knew and refused to pay it any mind, it was still shocking to feel the anger thrumming through his veins at the sound of another name passing Merin’s lips.

Baiwen smiled against Merlin’s chest, features caving into lust and pleasure and ecstasy for a moment before he clambered for control of himself. “I do not think,” he panted into Merlin’s chest, still licking and sucking and nipping his way across the pale flesh, leaving buds of pink in his wake, “the prince would approve of your nightly activities.”

Merlin’s parted lips curved into a smile, a soft noise that might have been a mewl sliding from his throat as Baiwen rolled his hips up into him, and brought his head down to look at Baiwen. But it took a moment for his eyes to focus, and instead of looking into the eyes of the man who now had both hands on his hips, the man who was starting to take control and adjust their rhythm, the man whose cock was thrusting into his ass, hips rolling and gyrating, he was looking across the room at Arthur.

Arthur’s cock, hard and hot in his pants, twitched, leaking pre-come, and the thing that rumbled unhappily in his chest, had a passing feeling of satisfaction at the way something bright and quick and suspiciously close to surprise darted through Merlin’s eyes.

But Merlin did not slow, did not stop. His fingers clenched harder into Baiwen’s shoulders, hips easily giving way to the hard grip of the knight under him, letting Baiwen change the pace, and said in a low, gravely voice that was all lust and pleasure and nothing else, “I don’t think he’d care,” before Baiwen growled low in his throat and ground tightly up into him, making Arthur’s manservant close his eyes, mouth going slack with surprise and pleasure, another soft noise leaking out of him.

“Tighten up for me,” Baiwen moaned, voice heavy, breath hard.

And Merlin, eyes shut, head dropped forward, refusing to look back up at Arthur, demanded, “Harder.”

The beast in Arthur’s chest snarled and snapped and threatened to burst from his very body, as Arthur stepped back into the hall, thick kitchen door slipping shut silently in front of him, leaving him alone in darkness, silence echoing heavily in his ears.

:: NEXT :: Possibly Slightly Fantastic

Hi Flist

2008-12-09T04:55:35Z

Hey everybody! *waves*

I should welcome some new people to my flist. A few from the friending meme today, and some others who have found me through my ~~soon to be massive amounts of~~ Merlin porn.

*waves again*

My name is Laura. You can call me... Laura. If you want to call me something else ~~(like sparkly predator)~~, though I have no clue why you would want to unless it's some ridiculous inside joke in which case that's cool because I love inside jokes, that is perfectly fine too!

Ummm... If you want to know, some random things about me:

- I'm obsessed with 'MERLIN' like nothing else I've ever know, and I never want it to end.
- I like tea, black tea and green tea, but none of those abominations that have like "flowers" or "fruit" in them - Do Not Want (woe, I r sorry Rinja - not really, but I'll say I am)
- I work in TV. ...reality TV. No, I do not watch reality TV. No, I do not particularly like reality TV. No, I definitely do not like what we produce. ...and yet I do it anyway.
- I like things to be clean and tidy, but apparently not enough to actually keep my room this way - it makes me depressed every time I come home, but I still don't manage to get the energy to put shit away.
- I have two loads of laundry in the washer right now, they've been done for an hour, but I'm more tempted to attempt to leave them there until tomorrow after work, then go down and put them in the dryer now.

Oh. And I write porn.

And that's about all that sums up me. If you have any questions, feel free to ask!

*waves*

To comment, or not to comment

2008-12-08T17:50:10Z

Hello f-list!

I've been a fanfic reader on LJ for quite awhile now, and I've found there there are a few ways fic authors can respond to comments. (1) Comment back with 'thank you's of sorts to everybody, (2) comment back just to people they know, (3) no commenting at all.

As readers, is there a preference people have? Honestly, for me - I think I don't really mind either way. Sometimes it's fun to be like "oh yay! They read my comment and it made them happy!" but most of the time I just kind of forget I commented, so it's not that big of deal if I don't get a response to my initial comment.

How do the masses feel? Do you even care?

Merlin Secret Santa

2008-12-08T08:46:06Z

I'm doing a Secret Santa fic writing thing for SGA (oh shiz, I have to start writing those...), and I was thinking how much fun it would be to do something like that for MERLIN.

It's already December 7th, and I don't know if there's even enough time, or the amount of people who would want to do it... I don't know if I would want to run it, if I have the time (oh hell, who am I kidding? I have all the time in the freaking world!).

Blarg.

I just want more MERLIN fic. There's not enough of it to make me happy - I want moar!

Fic: A Bunch Of Firsts (Merlin, RPS, NC-17)

2008-12-08T00:08:09Z

OMG... O. M. FUCKING. G. ...I have just written RPS... RPF? /headdesk

Title: A Bunch Of Firsts
Author: bakarini
Genre: Slash
Word Count: 1,195
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Bradley, Colin, Arthur/Merlin
Summary: In which Bradley learns of fandom, and this new thing fans call "slash."

A Bunch Of Firsts

It started innocently enough.

He just wanted to see what the fans thought about the show. After all, he was still stuck sleeping in a hotel, commuting out to the castle every day, and only the first few episodes were airing and, in all honesty, he really needed something to boost his ego a little.

Sure, he thought the show was fantastic. Then again, he was the one who got to play Prince Arthur and was getting paid to play with swords all day – so there was a high likelihood that he was bias.

For the most part he got a bunch of articles and reports about the show. All things he knew about already, and all rather boring. He didn’t care what reporters thought of the show, he wanted to know what the fans thought. They, after all, were the important ones. And really, he was bracing himself for whatever was to come.

He was not braced, however, to type in “BBC Merlin fans” in Google, and stumble across something called “Fanlore” and their wiki page.

He thinks he should have read the whole thing a little more carefully. Instead he saw large title text announcing “Merlin Fandom,” and he changed his search accordingly.

For God’s sake – you wouldn’t think it’d be so difficult to find some polls or something from people watching the show.

He clicked on the first search result, and that – that was Bradley’s first introduction to the thing known as “LiveJournal”. Which really, was exactly what he was looking for. This “Merlin Fandom LJ Guide” seemed to have a plethora of information, and all directly from the fans themselves. How he hadn’t run across it before, he wasn’t sure, and didn’t much care.

There were a lot of firsts, that day. First time finding that people made small little pictures called “icons” and passed them out to everybody they knew. First time at staring at a 100+ screencaps of his own face, and having 1,000+ fan comments drooling over them. First time stumbling over something that said “Arthur/Merlin” and had a link under it, and since he was already quite puffed up about the whole thing, he clicked without thinking; and that was the first time he ever read porn about himself (well, his character) and, well, anyone – much less Colin.

Hell, it was his first time reading porn in general. He watched it, but he’d never thought there were… stories about it. And not stories like those trashy romance novels that used euphemisms for all the body parts, “swords” and “flowers” and “budding heat.” But, instead, stories that very plainly used words like “cock” and “come” and “ass” and “prostate.”

Stories that had full, detailed, and very graphic sentences that put all of them together. Stories that read, very plainly, that –

Arthur panted into Merlin’s hair, eyes rolling back into his head as his muscles tightened, heat curling in his belly, as he thrust roughly into Merlin. Under him, Merlin gasped for breath, soft noises of need and want dripping from his throat – his own hard and leaking cock arched back over his pale stomach, leaking pre-come and throbbing with inattention. Steadying himself on one hand, Arthur reached down, thick, calloused fingers wrapping around Merlin’s dick, squeezing and jerking to the same sporadic rhythm of his hips. ‘Merlin.’ A deep, husky whisper of breath into Merlin’s dark hair, and his manservant let out a sound that was dangerously close to a mewl, as he arched up into the prince, eyes squeezed shut, head pressed back into the pillows, muscles tensing and tightening around Arthur, who was thrusting harder, faster. ‘Merlin.’ His voice cracked. ‘Come for me Mer-

“Bradley?”

The screen of his laptop came down with a loud crack, and Bradley all but leapt out of his chair to face Colin who was only half in the room and looking at him with one brow raised and eyes sparkling something of amusement. They flickered from the laptop to Bradley, and his lips twitched into a smirk.

“Am I interrupting something? Because I can always come back later.”

First time he ever got interrupted reading porn.

Bradley shook his head emphatically, already turning toward the bathroom and hoping to God Colin’s curious eyes hadn’t caught sight of his suddenly too tight pants. Though he doubted he had the luck. Sure he made fun of Colin whenever he could, but it didn’t mean the guy didn’t get him back fair enough.

“No. Fine. Nothing. Lines right?” He managed to make it to the bathroom without falling over himself. Good sign.

“Prank on Angel actually. …Remember?”

The little prick. He could hear the laughter in his voice. Colin wasn’t even trying to disguise it. “Right. Quick shower first. You can… get ready.” He kicked the door shut behind him and all but lunged across the bathroom to turn the faucet on. Cold water. Nothing but cold water.

Good God. Had he really been turned on by reading porn. Much less porn that was about him. Him and Colin, of all people. Come on, Bradley, get a hold of yourself, for Christ’s sake.

He came out to find Colin sitting in his previously, hastily abandoned seat, laptop open in front of him, and try as he might, he couldn’t help the way his throat closed up and a heated flush started to crawl up his neck. Colin turned around before he could even get his wits about himself enough to let out an awkward, “err…,” much less try to put together a reasonable explanation about the whole thing. Though, really, the truth was completely reasonable.

And he highly doubted Colin would believe a word of it.

Colin’s thin lips were still quirked into a smirk, eyes dancing with humor. “Were you getting off on this?” The question was, in no way, innocent.

Shockingly enough, his voice was far steadier than he expected it to be, when he pulled out, “I just found it. I didn’t know…” Didn’t know what? What the fans thought about the show? Thought Arthur should be fucking Merlin’s little warlock brains out? Realize it was out there? Colin was going to walk in?

Another single arched eyebrow. “You just found this today?” Colin let out an amused snort of laughter. “I’ve been reading it for ages. Katie and Angel think it’s the biggest laugh.” He paused, curious eyes flickering over Bradley, making him increasingly aware of the fact that he had a towel around his hips and had come out in search of new pants. “You know they have ones of us?”

Bradley choked on his own breath. “What?!”

“You and me, as we are.” And now Colin’s smirk had become something that might have been defined as a full blown grin, but Bradley thought he saw something dark and lecherous slip through his eyes. “Plenty of it.” He raised both eyebrows. “Apparently we have a secret sexual tryst going on.” He paused for a moment, silently laughing at Bradley, before turning back to the laptop, shutting it far more gently than Bradley had. “So, what is it tonight? Another switch of door signs?”

:: END ::

In which Bradley James is a manwhore

2008-12-07T22:14:13Z

Massive picspam of manwhore Bradley in Dis/Connected!!

It's not the whole episode, just the parts that display Bradley's manwhorishness the most... XD

NOT DIALUP FRIENDLY! Dear God no.

In which there is funeral/bathroom sex...

In which Bradley learns not to show other girls' nickers to a potential mate...

In which Bradley is rejected...

And the best of them all... (or, at least the one that made me bust up so hard)

In which Bradley is watching you...