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Title: In Which Merlin Is Really Sort Of A Pervert, But Arthur Is Okay With That
Pairing: Merlin/Arthur, [Arthur/snail!Merlin frottage] (highlight to read)
Rating: NC-17
Word count: ~1700
Warnings: Um. Bestiality, I suppose? And pushy!bottom!Arthur which, I don't know, I've been told I really ought to warn people about. Also, very not-beta'd, so there will probably be grammar weirdness and shameless abuse of innocent italics. Just…BE WARNED, 'kay?
Disclaimer: This Merlin & Arthur = Not Mine. BBC's. *wistful sigh*
Summary: Merlin is curious. And also sort of a pervert. (Although that bit's not entirely his fault. Mostly, but not entirely.)
A/N: Written for [livejournal.com profile] speedpr0nz Round 3, Picture Prompt #12 (very NSFW). 1h30 on the dot. *grins*



To be perfectly honest, it all started with a bet.

A stupid bet.

A stupid bet that wasn't even really a bet because Merlin had made it against himself, sort of, only not really because how could he bet against himself when the money was coming out of and going into his own pocket and, anyway, he didn't have any money to begin with because he'd spent it all on candied fruit at the Midsummer Fair not a fortnight ago?

Ahem.

But the important bit was: it started with a bet. Merlin's own mind conjured it up one afternooon, as he lay naked in the lakeside sun with a pleasantly worn out, pleasantly snoozing Arthur beside him. A breeze blew across them from the water, stirring their hair and the tips of the grass—and Arthur, who quite typically had chosen to lie belly-up in all his glory, gave an ever-so-slight twitch of his love-bitten hips.

The thought wandered across Merlin's mind: Did Arthur just get turned on by the wind?

And the rational part of his brain replied: What? No. That is ridiculous. Also very, very wrong, and probably impossible anyway, given the number of times we just—

To which the rest of him countered: The hell with that! Let's see if we can make him do it again…

It's a physiological impossibility. Gaius would—

No! No Gaius! Eurgh…

Shouldn't interrupt, now maybe you'll learn. Anyway, I told you so.

Oh yeah? Want to bet?

Please. He can't possible be that sensitive.


Yes he can. To practically anything at all, as long as it's us doing it!

Of course…


So there Merlin lay, on his side and facing Arthur, fingers curling and twisting languidly as he drew the breeze back and forth and around Arthur's (now definitely interested) cock. It was a treat that had Merlin licking his lips, watching the velvet-smooth length stir to life between Arthur's legs without any visibile stimulation.

At first, Merlin was sure it would only become half hard, at best; the soft, teasing brushes of air couldn't be enough to coax it fully to life. Then he discovered the trick of cupping his hand, palm downward, and drawing his fingers into a slow curl, dragging a twisting column of air along the length of Arthur's cock, until Arthur moaned out load and his cock twitched against the golden skin of his belly.

Arthur's eyelids fluttered, his hips shifting restlessly with desire, and Merlin realized he had better back off and…re-assess the situation. Though, the result seemed fairly clear…

Rubbish it's clear! You know how sensitive Arthur is to that thing you do, when you lick him and then blow on his cock, and palm it while it gets all hypersensitive and twitchy from the warmth of your breath…

Merlin's eyes glazed over, but he could practically hear his rationality screaming at him.

Focus! The point is, that little trick isn't anything new, and it certainly doesn't qualify as—as "anything at all!"

Oh, pipe down and pay up.

Absolutely not!
Merlin was really starting to dislike his rational side. Maybe that was why he'd gotten into the habit of ignoring it over the years. If it's to really count as "anything at all, so long as it's…us," then it ought to be something less than appealing in its own right, don't you think? Not something some doxy on the street could do to equal effect.

Arthur would never like a doxy better than us!

Irrelevant.
Merlin hadn't even known he knew that word. Either shut up, or put up something really impressive.

His rational side, Merlin decided, was bit of a smug prat. Rather like Arthur, actually. Was that why he never listened to Arthur?

Quite possibly.

Well, that and the fact that Arthur could never stop talking for more than two minutes together, and if Merlin had actually listened to everything Arthur said, he would have gone mad ages ago.

Arthur was quite nice like this, as a matter of fact: all splayed out and lovely and quiet. Never mind anything Merlin did to get a reaction out of Arthur; right now he could do just about anything he wanted. And Arthur was always so pushy in bed, too. The stories Merlin had heard belowstairs all suggested that anyone who liked getting his arse played with that much ought to be a little more compliant regarding the whole affair, but no. Arthur had to be the bossiest bottom in the entire history of unnatural acts!

Why, most of the time he would actually try to push Merlin away from his cock, where Merlin was perfectly willing to do things that most lovers had to be cajoled and wheedled into even considering. And did Arthur care? No, he was only intent on getting Merlin to go even lower down, as if Merlin didn't pay him enough attention in that spot when all was said and done! Didn't Merlin deserve a little quality time with one of his own favorite bits of Arthur's anatomy?

Well, yes, actually. As a matter of fact, he did.

And wouldn't that be lovely, he thought, eyes going a little unfocused as he stared at Arthur's cock and imagined lavishing it with all the attention he wanted. He could run his lips over it and taste the salt-bitter eagerness; maybe rub his cheek against it, watch Arthur's eyes go all funny as Merlin made himself glisten with pre-come. He could almost feel it, warm and slick against his skin, making it easy to work the long, thick length with smooth-gliding strokes.

He'd make Arthur grit his teeth and throw his head back, and writhe. He'd stroke him firmly, relentlessly, the kind of strokes that made Merlin wonder if he couldn't work Arthur's cock with his whole body, and not just with his mouth and hands. He'd rub himself against it and feel it swell even large beneath him, heat and want against his cheek and his chin and his chest and his own, half-neglected cock—

Wait a minute.

Now that was definitely a physiological impossibility.

Merlin let out a little moan—or would have, had he lips or lungs to moan with—as he realized that he was, in fact, laid out full-length agains the hard shaft of Arthur's cock. Even more, there was a definite weight on top of him, pressing him down against it and forcing a delicious friction that made Merlin tingle from his eyestalks to his tail—

What?!

--and, he also realized, making it exceedingly difficult for him to move at all, let alone try to get away.

Every beat of Arthur's heart made Merlin's tiny, transformed body throb in time with it. The trembling rush of blood beneath his skin was enough to vibrate Merlin into an immobile frenzy. The drops of precome that slid down Arthur's shaft and over Merlin's body had him trying in vain to writhe with pleasure. His slick underside thrust and undulated desperately against the impossible heat of Arthur's cock, and, oh, he couldn't move very much or very fast, but every stroke was so good, and he was so close, please, he could come like this, he had to be able to come like this, a body couldn't feel this good and not come—

"What the—Merlin!"

And then, suddenly, the delicious rubbing and sliding and stroking was gone, and Merlin was unceremoniously hoisted into the air by—oh. His shell.

Well, that explained the weight.

His eyestalks waved feebly, showing him little more than a large, blurry, peach-colored blob as Arthur lifted him up to what was presumably face height.

You," Arthur said sternly, "are the most perverted, lecherous, terrible manservant ever to plague this kingdom. I'm sure of it. Positive, even. Did I mention the bit where you're perverted?"

Merlin flailed his eystalks indignantly, attempting to convey his supreme irritation, and also the fact that it was a bit pot and kettle for Arthur "No-Move-Your-Tongue-Lower-Come-On-You-Can-Get-It-In-Deeper-There-Oh-Yes-There-Just-Like-That" Pendragon to be calling him, Merlin, a pervert.

Arthur, apparently, did not agree.

"Honestly," he muttered, and the peach blob in front of Merlin took on a decidedly crimson hue. "You would have had me having it off with a—a snail? In broad daylight? While I was sleeping, nonetheless? What would you have done if I had come?"

Merlin would have blinked in confusion, if he had had eyelids at this juncture. Since he did not, he had to make due with staring blankly. He got the distinct impression that Arthur-blob was rolling his eyes.

"Snails breathe through their skins, idiot! I might have drowned you! Which doesn't actually sound all that bad for me, though it would be rather ignonimous way for you to go. Here Lies Merlin, son of Hunith, drowned in the Flood of his Prince's Manly Virility—oof!"

And that was that absolute last straw, it seemed, because suddenly a full-sized, very human, very naked Merlin was sitting on Arthur's stomach and jabbing an accusatory finger into Arthur's breastbone.

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It," he growled.

"Oh, you know I love it when you talk rough to me," Arthur smirked, and glanced up at Merlin through thick blond eyelashes. "Also, wonderful to see you're back." He wriggled pointedly beneath Merlin.

This time, Merlin did blink.

"Oh, come on!" Arthur whined, thrusting up with his hips so vigorously he nearly dislodged Merlin. "Your perverted snail frottage woke me up from my nap and made ma all horny, it's only fair you should fuck me back into a coma."

He managed to bump and wriggle Merlin off successfully this time, pulled his knees up by his ears, and smiled. No one, Merlin thought, so completely and totally in someone else's power (at least in theory; Merlin was still working out how, and even if, Arthur had managed to wriggle his way out of that one) should be able to look so damn smug about getting what should have been his comeuppance.

"Hurry up!" Arthur was down to cajoling. "If you do me really good, I'll even let you suck me off before I pass out."

And, really, how could Merlin turn down an offer like that?

It was a stupid bet, anyway.

-fin-


ETA: multiple spelling/grammar fails fixed *facepalm*
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