Rating: Hard R/ NC-17
Character/s: Merlin, Arthur
Summary: You claim him like he's wanted you to for years.
Warnings: sex, but nothing too explicit...
Word Count: 469
Author's Notes: I'm not really sure what this is... I kind of just wrote, and hoped for something pretty to appear :s I'm not sure that I succeeded, and I'm just praying that it makes some kind of sense xD Also, I get ridiculously nervous when I write anything vaguely resembling smut, so I hope that's all okay :O
You claim him like he’s wanted you to for years; like he’s wanted from the first day, when you insulted him, and he fought back, wily thing that he is. Beneath you he’s pliant and gasping, long white limbs on the brink of snapping as you force him under and under, rage and adoration battling for dominance deep down in your stomach.
Closer to the surface, are the more animal desires; the lust which you’ve felt, ever since he defied you the first time, and then continued to fuel every time you asked something of him, and he disobeyed. Every time you were forced to call him out on it, and watch him squirm, not even pretending that you didn’t take delight in the power you had over him. The power which only he could extinguish.
You would have stepped away, palms upwards in surrender, with only a single word from his wide, talented mouth.
But he never asked you to stop. He gave and he gave, yet you never took it as far as you do now. You never pinned him down, stripped him bare and took him, hips rolling obscenely, skin glowing in the firelight from the grate by your bed.
Because now you know.
You know about the fucking magic, and all the times he’s saved you. The two ought to cancel each other out, but you can’t make them fit. So you stop trying, and plunder his body, because he wants it, and you want it, and you might not get the chance again.
A cry from beneath you, a sob of your name, and his heat clenches around you, forcing evidence of your pleasure to pulse through you and into him, so he’s full to the brim and it leaks out, trailing down his thighs. Another yell, and you feel warmth striping your stomach. His warmth. Him.
“I...I love...” his moan is broken off, when you lower your neck, flattening your tongue over his stomach, and then the insides of his legs, cleaning him, covering your passion with your care, revelling in the way he whimpers, before his breathing begins to even out and he finally lies still.
Conquered and complacent, obedient and content.
But then, it’s he who pushes himself up a little, eyes heavy lidded and curious. He who lifts a hand, to let a long finger trail across your cheek, before fastening in the hair at the back of your neck, and pulling you to him.
The first kiss you share tonight is long and wet and he groans when you bite his lips, and you gasp the first time he forces his tongue into your mouth.
You want so hard to be in control, but he owns you. It’s unintentional, but it’s there. And maybe, maybe, it’s time you gave in.