Title: A Cure For All Ills
Character/s: Arthur, Gwaine
Summary: Gwaine's twisted his ankle. Arthur's fixing it.
Word Count: 403
Prompt: Amnesty Prompt - Superboy (photo)
Author's Notes: Well this was fun to write
Gwaine’s on his knees in the changing room toilets, Arthur Pendragon, rugby team captain, right there in front of him. They’re both more than a little dishevelled, both from the training session and the making out. They smell like grass and mud, especially since Gwaine’s entire left side is coated in it. The pitch was perhaps a little too waterlogged to play on, and his foot had twisted, and he’d gone down.
Arthur’s supposed to be taking him to Matron’s, but he knows a much better cure for a twisted ankle and a bruised pride. Gwaine paws at Arthur’s tracksuit bottoms, and Arthur smiles, helping him get them down. Yes, he’d been right about this.
Gwaine takes one look at Arthur and laughs. There’s the blown pupils still, but there’s a full blown grin too, and Arthur has to look down to see just what’s so funny. Only to remember that most of his clothes were in the wash when he got dressed this morning.
“Superman, Arthur? Really?”
Arthur allows him one humouring smile.
“Just get on with it, or Coach’ll be here to check on us.”
Gwaine grins again and grips onto Arthur’s hips, leans in to mouth at him through his pants, right over the S. Arthur’s already half hard from the kissing, and Gwaine’s firm touch just takes him all the way.
Pulling back, Gwaine grins again. He eyes the wet patches on Arthur’s pants, before deciding against making that into a thing and just pulling them down to get his mouth on Arthur’s cock properly. He loves giving head, one of the many things Arthur can never admit to loving about Gwaine, and he dives right in, taking Arthur as deep as he can and sucking. Gwaine licks as he bobs his head, sucking hard, so wet that a little spit escapes his lips. Arthur lets out a little whimper at the sight of it.
“Fuck,” he says, and Gwaine only moves faster, until Arthur’s coming embarrassingly quickly with no warning at all down Gwaine’s throat.
He drops to his knees, pushes his hand down the front of Gwaine’s jogging bottoms, and strokes him hard. Gwaine clamps their lips together, hands on Arthur’s shoulders to support him as he comes, biting down on Arthur’s lip to keep quiet.
With Gwaine’s head heavy on his shoulder, Arthur smiles.
“Still want to go to Matron’s?”
“Nah, feeling a lot better now.”