|bewarethesmirk (bewarethesmirk) wrote,|
@ 2009-04-27 14:15:00
|Entry tags:||fandom: merlin, genre: pwp, genre: romance, kink: frottage, length: 1-4.9k, my fics, pairing: merlin/arthur, rating: nc-17|
Fic: Quench [Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, NC-17]
Quench by bewarethesmirk
(Merlin, Merlin/Arthur; NC-17; 2947 words)
Thank you to the incomparable b_hallward, for all your beta help, time and advice. It has been truly invaluable.
The lovely lizardspots took prompts for porny fanart and she utilised derryere's prompt (Uhhh, accidental drunkenness ending in a shameful mutual handjob!) and mine (I VOTE FOR FROTTAGE. ANYWHERE, EVERYWHERE, I DON'T CARE. :D) to create this masterpiece: Like Velvet (NWS/NC-17) This piece began as a porny ficlet, but then developed a bit of context. It's cushioned in porn.
“I don’t understand why you insist on wearing this jacket again,” Merlin says, although it’s a lie of epic proportions. He walks a full circuit around Arthur, taking his time to survey the effect. “The last time you wore it you were almost poisoned.”
Arthur huffs. Whether in amusement or disdain—or both—Merlin doesn’t know. “If I swore off all the clothing I wore when nearly getting killed, I’d not have anything left to wear, would I?”
And what a travesty that would be, Merlin thinks, but manages to keep it to himself. The temptation to blurt out these highly personal and embarrassing observations has only worsened with time. “What a shame,” he says.
When Arthur just stares at him a bit too keenly, Merlin busies himself with the task of finding Arthur yet another pair of trousers. So far Arthur has turned up his nose at every pair Merlin has pulled from his wardrobe. Really, he doesn’t know why Arthur is being so picky considering there are to be no visitors at the feast. It’s just the court of Camelot celebrating the success of the crops as they prepare for the harvest. But Arthur is sometimes in a foul mood for the most ridiculous of reasons.
“Well?” Arthur says, and Merlin jumps.
“Now that you’ve got the jacket on, do you think you can finish? Sometime before the feast.”
Merlin realises he’s been caught staring. But no matter. If he’s good at anything, it’s distracting Arthur. He smiles wide and revels in the wariness in Arthur’s gaze, who is no doubt wondering why his manservant is grinning at him, manically, after having just been treated to a spectacular whinging fit. “How about those brown trousers you wore to the last delegation? With Lady Ariel?”
Arthur is still staring at Merlin’s smile when he nods. “Fine. Just find them. That’ll take five years at the pace you’re setting.”
“Whatever you wish, sire.”