Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/357563.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Merlin_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Merlin/Arthur_Pendragon
  Character:
      Arthur_Pendragon, Merlin_(Merlin)
  Additional Tags:
      2k
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-03-06 Words: 1787
****** Indian Summer ******
by rufflefeather
Summary
     Summary: ‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘I think about you too.’
      
     Disclaimer: Product of my twisted mind, all events fictional, don't
     own anything.
Notes
     Written for eloquent_toast 's Merlin Wankfest 2011 which is just
     about the best place to hang out. I have no excuse for this, only
     that a dirty mind is a joy for life. I have no idea if they wrapped
     cheese in oiled cloths, how they oiled those cloths and what they
     oiled them with but there is oil and boys and wanking SO WHO CARES!
See the end of the work for more notes
Arthur will remember this as the hottest after summer of his youth. October
already rolled past into November and still the sun burnt with an August
strength. So maybe it is the curious indulgence that comes with too many sultry
days, or maybe it is the way Merlin would lick the glistening sweat from his
lips, the way the wetness would cause the hair to curl around his ears that
gave Arthur’s dreams in day and night a feverish sensitivity of forbidden want
and need. Or maybe it is just this way with teenage boys, their bodies
thrumming with an always present demand no matter what the weather is like.
He finds Merlin behind the kitchens, bent over a task with set determination of
one who knows he has no choice but get the work done. Arthur watches him, legs
bony and crossed beneath him, fringe still sticking to his forehead even though
he is hidden in the shade. Merlin glances up, notices Arthur leaning against
the wall but doesn’t acknowledge him in any verbal way. The oppressing cling of
heat is too much to do anything but concentrate on his work. Arthur shifts,
restless and more than a little annoyed.
‘What are you doing?’ he demands eventually, suppressing the urge to swipe at
his own fringe with a sweaty palm, knowing it won’t improve matters in the
slightest. Instead he uncrosses his arms, hoping to catch a non-existing
cooling breeze. He is tall now, features almost grown in to the fullness of his
mouth, almost looking like the man he will once be.
Merlin puffs out a breath, flipping up a sticky strand of hair. ‘Oiling cheese
cloths,’ he tells Arthur gruffly, irritated that he has to work and Arthur,
does not. ‘Don’t you have something more interesting to do than stand there?’
‘No,’ Arthur tells him, following Merlin’s fingers as they dip into the oil
again. ‘Too hot to hunt, too hot to train, too hot to lie down and do nothing.’
‘Poor you,’ Merlin mumbles, his eyebrows pulling together in a frown, as his
slicked hands smooth over a circular cloth, up, down, around, turn it over,
repeat.
The truth is, Arthur had been lying on his bed, because it is cooler in there
that outside, when the strange heat had built in his belly. It is a normal
occurrence now, it doesn’t make him nervous anymore like it used to. He had
closed his eyes and turned over, pressing his need into the mattress but the
release hadn’t come. One of his older friends had once asked him what girl he
thought of, when he - you know, did that thing. Arthur had looked at him and
had muttered something about no one in particular. The boy had grinned and
punched his shoulder lightly before telling him it was all right.
‘Merlin?’ Arthur asks advancing a little and wringing his hands behind his back
as he watches him roll one of the cloths into a tight coil before dipping his
hands into the oil again.
‘Mmm.’ Merlin doesn’t bother looking up from his work and doesn’t see how
Arthur’s eyes are slightly too wide, too intent on the way he massages the oil
into his palms and fingers before spreading them over a new cloth. Arthur steps
a little closer still, and sinks down on his knees.
‘Do you ever-,’ Arthur begins, and he feels his cheek redden. ‘Do you ever
think about me?’
Merlin frowns and finally looks up to see his Prince bite the inside of his
lip. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks and Arthur sees the apple of his throat bob up
and down, the tendons of his neck straining.
‘I mean,’ Arthur whispers. ‘At night, when you are alone do you ever- do you
ever think things. About me.’
‘I-,’ Merlin stares, his mouth a little slack in horror, his cheeks and ears
burning as if Arthur just discovered one of his darkest secrets. ‘I’m sorry,’
Merlin breathes. Arthur wants to look away because he can feel the shame
stinging, but he is unable to. Merlin’s eyes are wide and blue, there is a
trickle of sweat that pearls its way down his temple and all Arthur can think
of is how it might taste on his tongue.
‘It’s okay,’ he whispers. ‘I think about you too.’ He feels how his eyelids
become heavy, when Merlin’s gaze flickers toward the bulge in Arthur’s breeches
and back up again. His hands have stilled, there is oil dripping from his
fingers. A sudden intensity crosses his features and a heat that has nothing to
do with the sun spreads in Arthur’s chest.
‘Take it out,’ Merlin orders him, voice low and hoarse.
He wants to say no, he wants to get up and leave and never think about this
again but Merlin looks down, his tongue briefly pressing against the droplet of
sweat on his top lip and Arthur realizes his hand is already moving. His
fingers feel clumsy and stiff as he fumbles with the closing of his trousers
but he can’t look away, he can’t look down from Merlin’s face to see what his
fingers are doing wrong.
At last he closes his fist around himself and pulls, a deep sigh pressing
through his open mouth and he sinks back on his heels. He pumps his sweat
slicked palm up and down, the muscles in his thighs and buttocks clenching
hard. Merlin’s eyes widen, his mouth is stuck in the shape of a small o and he
can’t seem to make up his mind where to look first. At Arthur’s flushed face or
at the pink, moist head that appears and vanishes with increasing speed in
Arthur’s hand.
‘Arthur,’ Merlin moans when Arthur gives a violent shiver of anticipation and
pleasure. ‘Can I touch? Please Arthur, I want to touch.’ The thought is
dangerous and scary and exhilarating all at once and Arthur focusses on
Merlin’s mouth, imagining what it would feel like and,
‘Yes. Merlin, yes.’ His breath stutters and his eyes almost close so it is a
shock when Merlin’s oiled palm clasps over his own hand.
‘Move,’ Merlin hisses hotly. Arthur slides his fingers down the shaft a little,
not letting go but enough to make room for Merlin’s hand. It isn’t his mouth,
Arthur thinks, but the oil is warmed through the heat of the day or the
friction of Merlin’s palms and he knows it can’t feel all that different. ‘Oh,’
Merlin breathes, when Arthur twitches in his hand and he tightens his fist.
Arthur can barely suppress the groan in his throat and he rocks back on his
heels, watching Merlin kneeled before him. ‘Let me Arthur,’ Merlin whispers and
he is glad to allow his hand to fall away, because this, this is more than he
ever thought it could be. The pressure that builds beneath his navel is strong
and unfamiliar, nothing like what he is used to in the darkness and solitude of
his own chambers.
Merlin fits both his palms around Arthur, fingers entangling around the shaft
as he strokes in slow, long movements. The oil smells slightly sweet and feels
just as delicious.
‘I think about this Arthur,’ Merlin whispers and Arthur jolts, because Merlin’s
voice is right beside his ear. He hadn’t realizes his head had dropped to
Merlin’s shoulder. ‘I think about this all the time. When I am alone, when I
touch myself I think about it being you. I want it to be you.’
‘Me too,’ Arthur mumbles into his neck, his lips brushing against Merlin’s
skin. He tastes of sweat and soap and something Merlin smells of but that he
can’t name.
‘I think about my hands on you,’ Merlin continues in a shaky voice. ‘I think
about them, and wonder what noises you would make when they are on you.’
Arthur’s thighs are starting to tremble, he can feel the pressure mounting, he
can feel it starting to clench around his groin and the weight of it is so
much, it is so much he doesn’t think he can contain it. ‘I think about my hands
doing this,’ Merlin breathes into his ear, right before he curls his fingers
around Arthur’s sack, squeezing gently. The noise coming out of Arthur’s throat
is filthy and stifled by the skin of Merlin’s shoulder.
‘Merlin,’ he whimpers. ‘Merlin I’m going to-, it’s going to-‘ he gasps, his
hips start to rock into Merlin’s hand, still stroking, gripping, tight, loose,
tight, loose, tight, tight. ‘Merlin!’ He wants to pull away, shame suddenly
taking over but Merlin quickly pulls a hand away and places it on the small of
Arthur’s back keeping him in place.
‘I want it,’ he whispers. ‘I want it Arthur.’ When Arthur still a little, he
puts his hand back and works both up and down twice.
‘Merlin,’ Arthur whines.
‘Yes. Please Arthur, give in. Give in to me, I’ve got you.’ Merlin slides a
hand down further when he feels Arthur beginning to shudder around him, feels
Arthur’s hands come up and clasp his shoulders, when he feels Arthur’s teeth on
his neck. Arthur cries out when Merlin slides a finger beneath his sack and
against his opening, feels the pressure explode through him, riding the wave
with his hips rocking against Merlin’s pumping hand as he spurts his seed into
Merlin’s palms.
Merlin wraps an arm around Arthur’s waist as he waits for him to come down, his
thumb tracing small patterns into the fabric of his shirt. Arthur can hear him
murmuring against his neck but doesn’t understand what he is saying. Doesn’t
care, really. He waits for his knees to stop trembling and for his breathing to
slow down again before he sits up slowly. For a moment he is afraid to look at
Merlin, as if everything is suddenly going to be different. As if Merlin is
going to be different.
But Merlin looks flushed and a little embarrassed and his hair is standing up
on end. He gives Arthur a small smile and a glance from beneath his eyelashes
before he reaches out and grabs a dry cloth to wipe his hands. After a moment
hesitation he hands it to Arthur, who quickly cleans himself up before doing up
his trousers, cheeks still red.
‘You know what else I think about?’ Merlin asks him softly, his hands twisted
into a knot in his lap.
‘No,’ Arthur says.
‘About kissing you.’
‘Oh.’ Arthur feels a pleased smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ‘Do
you-, would you like me to kiss you Merlin?’
‘Yes, Arthur. I think I would like that very much.’
 
  Ozark_Henry_-_Indian_Summer . 
End Notes
     Here_at_LJ.
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