Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/932809.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Merlin_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Merlin/Arthur_Pendragon_(Merlin), Merlin/Uther_Pendragon_(Merlin)
  Character:
      Arthur_Pendragon_(Merlin), Merlin_(Merlin), Uther_Pendragon_(Merlin)
  Additional Tags:
      Sexual_Slavery, Canon_Era, Dubious_Consent, Power_Imbalance, Voyeurism,
      Slavery, Bodyswap, Spells_&_Enchantments, Summer_Pornathon_2013,
      Alternate_Canon
  Series:
      Part 1 of claudine's_summerpornathon_2013
  Collections:
      Summer_Pornathon_2013
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-08-19 Words: 691
****** A Caged Animal Thus Bites ******
by claudine
Summary
     Arthur wants what he cannot have: his father's bed slave, Merlin.
Notes
     Challenge One: Kink_Grab_Bag
     Kinks used: bodyswap, power imbalance, voyeurism
     Entry #55
     Warnings: underage (Merlin is 16), allusions to Arthur/Uther
He’d seen his father with his bed slave.
Uther is older now, not the warrior he once was, but still taut with muscle and
virile as he’d pounded into that pale arse, each thrust punctuated by a
squelch.
Til then, Arthur hadn’t known the meaning of wanting. He’d stayed, watching,
until his father came with a cry, the boy—Merlin—trembling underneath and
making soft, whining animal noises.
He’d fled, and for three weeks after, he fucked his fist with the stark memory
of that mouth—flushed pink with pleasure and moaning like a whore. He wondered
what it would be like to have it wrapped around his cock.
 
                                      ***
Coming across a hedgewitch selling her wares had been a stroke of luck.
“The potion will switch your bodies for one night only,” she’d said, bidding
Arthur to remember and take caution.
He plans to do it when everyone is deep in their cups after the banquet,
leaving him safe to slip away unnoticed.
 
                                      ***
Arthur inhales, then wipes a palm down his breeches. It would not do to lose
heart now when what he wants is this close. He shuts his eyes, squeezing tight,
and thinks desperately of the image of his father; stern and proud, always
disapproving, always expecting more.
As the magic takes effect, his stomach tingles. He can feel it. A quick check
in the mirror and he’s off, imitating his father’s stride as he walks towards
the bedroom where his father’s bed slave is kept waiting for his master.
“Boy,” he calls out softly, then clears his throat. Be commanding, he reminds
himself.
“Sire.”
Merlin sits up, his lips parting. His legs are spread, wanton, the laces of his
breeches half undone. Arthur can see the pink of his nipples through his gauzy
white tunic and swallows, his throat dry. Finally, he’ll be able to taste the
boy, fuck him into the mattress until he moans like a bitch in heat.
Arthur moves towards the bed with his father’s sure gait. But as he pushes
Merlin down, his fingers become frustratingly clumsy, unsure. Merlin shrugs out
of his tunic and doesn’t say a word, his lashes lowered.
Arthur takes his time to look his fill, at the smattering of dark hair on
Merlin’s pale chest, under his arms. He leans forward to take an experimental
lick at a nipple, then blows on it, causing Merlin to shiver and moan.
Sensitive. Then he inhales hard in the hollow of his underarms. The deep, musky
smell makes him desperate for the rut.
The breeches come off easily after that, and he slips his fingers into Merlin’s
arse, finding it already slippery with oil and his father’s seed from an
earlier coupling. There’s a fleeting sense of wrongness—but he shrugs it off as
he sinks himself inside that tight warmth. He is young, green, and can barely
reign it in; his hips snap fast, almost violent, and Merlin’s body bounces like
a rag doll as he whines and asks for more.
In the haze of fucking, Merlin calls his father’s name, propriety forgotten.
“Merlin,” Arthur responds, feels the deep heat in his belly, his mind whiting
out from intense pleasure as he comes deep inside in quick spurts. Merlin pulls
on his cock desperately, coming after, still moaning, breathless.
In the afterglow, Arthur turns, inadvertently catching sight of himself—no,
Father—in the mirror and stiffens all over. The distant guilt comes back; he
can almost hear his lecture. He stands and prepares to leave, but Merlin
catches his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.
“You’re Prince Arthur, aren’t you,” he says.
Shocked, Arthur turns around. “How did you know?” A tendril of fear is
beginning to make its way down his spine.
“You called me by name,” Merlin muses. “Your father never does. Calls me boy
like the fuck toy I am.”
Arthur has never heard his father’s bed slave talk that much and belatedly
realizes that behind those sultry eyes is a shrewd mind. “What do you want?” he
asks, his voice harsh.
 
                                      ***
He doesn’t expect to find himself in that gauzy white shirt, arse dripping
come, terrified.
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